Andrew Lane fell silent for a moment, his voice dropping to a low murmur. "I'm here to meet a client."

Emily Blair followed up naturally, "And where's your client now? You came all the way over here—what about them?"

"It's all taken care of," Andrew replied.

"Oh," Emily said quietly.

A hush settled between them. For several minutes, the only sounds were their footsteps echoing down the dim corridor.

Emily lowered her gaze, squinting in an effort to follow the rhythm of Andrew's stride. After a short distance, she lifted a hand and poked him gently in the back.

He turned his head slightly, his voice deep and steady. "What is it?"

"Do you even know where I'm supposed to go?" she asked softly.

"The ballroom," Andrew answered without a hint of hesitation.

Emily paused, surprised. "How did you know that?"

He was quiet for a moment, then said, "I saw you heading that way earlier." She glanced at his back. "How much farther?"

"Almost there."

Emily bit her lip.

She was almost certain now—she had night blindness. No matter how long she spent in the dark, her eyes never seemed to adjust. The world around her stayed stubbornly out of focus, forcing her to rely on someone else just to find her way out. The helplessness of it made her unusually irritable and impatient.

The more anxious she felt, the quieter she became.

Suddenly, Andrew stopped.

Emily, caught off guard, walked right into him, her nose bumping painfully against his back. She winced, stepping back and cupping her nose, her voice muffled by her hand. "Why'd you stop?"

Andrew turned to face her, reaching for her wrist and pulling her closer.

She stumbled forward, instinctively putting up a hand to keep some space between them. "What are you doing?"

He was standing right in front of her. Even in the darkness, she could just make out his head lowered, his face closer than she liked.

A little too close, actually. Emily frowned and tried to pull her wrist free, putting some distance between them, but Andrew's grip was unyielding.

She hated this uncertainty, the closeness, the ambiguity of their situation. Her lips pressed together in a thin line, eyes cast down, her whole posture radiating impatience.

Though she couldn't see her own expression, Andrew could-bathed in the faint green glow of an emergency exit sign, he saw the irritation and something else: nervousness.

He leaned down, his voice low. "Are you scared?"

Emily's face tensed, her tone defensive as she tugged at her arm again. “No. Just let me go, will you?"

Andrew didn't answer.

The more she struggled, the harder she tried to wrench her hand free. "Andrew Lane!"

The moment her voice rang out, he released her wrist abruptly.

Emily rubbed her wrist, anger and embarrassment flaring. "I don't need you to lead me. I can walk by myself."

Resolutely, she braced a hand against the wall, carefully edging around him and moving forward on her own.

She'd barely taken a few steps when her breath caught in her throat.

A strong arm snaked around her waist, firm as iron, anchoring her in place.

Before she could react, she felt the warmth of Andrew's chest pressed against her back, his presence enveloping her completely.

His voice came in a low whisper at her ear, "Don't be afraid."

He was much too close.

Emily's heart thudded in her chest; she grabbed at his arm, teeth clenched. "Let me go."

"I'll take you out of here," Andrew said, his voice so close that his breath brushed against her ear, sending a shiver down her spine and making her shrink into herself.