Chapter 291

A faint click echoed through the dressing room-the soft turn of the doorknob, shockingly loud against the hush inside the room.

Hannah's pulse spiked, her muscles freezing tight. Vicki? Was that woman back already? If Vicki caught her alone with Vincent, the gossip mill would spin out of control, trashing her reputation in seconds.

Hannah didn't hesitate. Reflexes kicking in, she reached out and clamped a hand around Vincent's cool wrist.

"Go. Hide." She shoved him urgently toward the curtained nook off to the side, her words little more than a breath.

She'd just wrapped up the show. The last thing she needed was some messy headline about her private life hijacking everything she and her team had worked so hard for.

Vincent blinked, momentarily startled by her sudden shove. He glanced down at her slender fingers clamped tight around his wrist.

Instead of letting her shove him away, he twisted his arm with effortless grace, drawing her in until there was barely a breath between them.

The heat radiating off his body mingled with hers; the air seemed to crackle between heartbeats.

A lazy, predatory grin played across his lips, sharpening his features with a dangerous charm. "Hiding me again, Hannah?"

His voice rumbled low, threaded with unfiltered amusement.

His voice rumbled low, threaded with unfiltered amusement."What happened to the Hannah I remember-the one who spins every PR disaster into a front-page win? Are you really telling me a surprise guest is all it takes to knock you off balance?"

His casual taunting-delivered at the worst possible moment-almost made her snap. She shot him a blistering glare, her voice tight with exasperation. "Oh, you've got a brilliant plan?I just walked off the runway, and now I'm alone in a dressing room with my ex-husband. Do you think that's the kind of headline I need right now?"

If it were Vicki turning the doorknob outside the dressing room,with Vicki's talent in throwing baseless accusations, what happened after Vicki barged in would be a total disaster.

"| couldn't care less about anyone's opinions." His breath skimmed her ear, hot and close, making her shiver.

Hannah had no patience left for arguing with him on this. She shoved him again, more forcefully this time.

Suddenly, the doorknob stopped turning.

Beyond the doorway, two young women's hesitant voices drifted through, crisp yet wavering.

"Hold on, this room seemed to be marked for Ms. Scott. Oops -wrong room for us-it's the one next door."

"Oh, thank God we didn't walk in. That would've been beyond embarrassing. Let's go,hurry!"

Their footsteps scrambled away, chased by sheepish, muffled laughter.

So,it was not Vicki. Just a pair of models who'd confused this room for another. The tension in the air dissolved in an instant,leaving Hannah hollowed out and trembling. Her strength vanished, the adrenaline crash leaving her dizzy and,damp with

vanished, the adrenaline crash leaving her dizzy and damp with sweat beneath her clothes. She let out an uneven exhale,fingers slackening on Vincent's wrist.

Vincent immediately noticed the shift in her posture, eyes narrowing as he studied her. He broke the heavy silence with an almost offhand question. "So, what happened with Alice?Why didn't she go on stage?"

Hannah leaned against the edge of the dressing mirror,deliberately avoiding his gaze. "Allergic reaction. Pretty severe.She just couldn't do it."

His eyebrow arched. "Wasn't thata little too convenient?"

Hannah's fingertips drifted along the edge of the mirror, as if tracing patterns could help steady her nerves."Yeah."

He tilted his head, voice lowering as he pressed. "Do you think one of your people set her up?"

Was there a traitor among them? The thought pricked at Hannah, but her gut said no. She closed her eyes and silently ticked through her core staff, dismissing each with a shake of her head. "I really don't think so. But we're not ruling anything out," she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper.

Vincent hadn't taken his eyes off her.

That unwavering focus made her skin crawl. She opened her eyes, only to meet his dark, unfathomable gaze. He still hadn't left.

"The show's finished, Mr. Jones," she said, her words clipped and glacial. "Shouldn't you be on your way out?"

She tipped her chin, gesturing coldly toward the door.

But instead of leaving, Vincent closed the distance with a deliberate step, his tall frame casting a shadow that nearly enveloped her. He leaned in, his voice grazing the shell of her

enveloped her. He leaned in, his voice grazing the shell of her ear. "Turns out you were right."

She frowned at the sudden closeness. What did he mean by that? Her lashes fluttered, confusion flickering in her eyes. Was he referring to what she'd said before-her certainty that there was no traitor on her team?

Her frown deepened. "Maybe I'm wrong. There could still be a traitor..."

He interrupted, smooth and unbothered, "That's not what I'm saying."

She was puzzled. Not that? Then what was he talking about?

Catching the bafflement in her eyes, he offered a faint smile."Cloudtop Restaurant. Three nights from now. Seven o'clock.I'll be waiting."

He wasn't extending a dinner invite. It was an order-delivered with his usual, unquestionable authority.

She blinked, caught off guard. "For what?"

His gaze never wavered. "Dinner."

Hannah's eyes narrowed, defiance sharpening her features. "I have no interest in dining with my ex-husband."