Elizabeth, however, was scared out of her wits. She huddled in a corner, refusing to move. It wasn't just the servers; cats with black and white bow ties were weaving around people's ankles. It was too much for her. She practically bolted from the ballroom.

Emily let her go and told her employees to enjoy themselves instead of sticking by her side. Soon, she was alone. She found a sofa in a quiet corner and sat down. The coffee table beside her was laden with small cakes and pastries. Having just finished her meeting, Emily was hungry, so she picked up a small plate and began to eat.

A shadow fell over her, and the cushion beside her dipped as someone sat down, maintaining a polite distance.

Emily didn't need to look up; she recognized the distinct scent of Andrew Lane's cologne.

After a moment, a glass of orange juice appeared in her line of sight. "Don't just eat. Have something to drink, you might choke."

She swallowed the bite in her mouth, pushed his hand away, and picked up a glass of wine from the table instead, taking a small sip. It was a light, crisp vintage, fitting for a casual party.

Andrew's voice drifted over. "All alone? Waiting for me?"

He had become incredibly brazen these last couple of days, bordering on shameless.

"Plenty of people are here alone, Mr. Lane," Emily said coolly. “Does that mean they're all waiting for you?"

"I don't care about other people," he replied flatly.

"And I have nothing to do with you."

"Whether we do or not isn't your decision alone."

Anger flared in her chest again. She couldn't understand why he was suddenly so fixated on her. Had he not gotten his fill of toying with her all those years ago? Was he back for another round?

They were in a deserted corner, so Emily decided to confront him directly. She set down her plate, took a large gulp of wine, and placed the glass back on the table with a sharp click.

"Andrew Lane, tell me right now. What is it you want?”

His voice was low and smooth. "I want a lot of things right now. Which one are you referring to?"

"Don't play dumb,” she snapped. "You've been acting strange ever since you found out I was with Tristan Davis, harassing me at every turn. What's your game?" She let out a scornful laugh. “Don't tell me your wife died, you got lonely, and decided to look up an old flame."

It was both an accusation and a test.

This time, Andrew was silent for a long while. Growing impatient, Emily turned to look at him and found him staring down into his wine glass, watching the liquid swirl. "I'd like to know that, too."

Emily frowned. "What's that supposed to mean?”

He drained his glass, loosened his tie with his other hand, and leaned back against the sofa. Emily looked away, annoyed by his theatrics. "If you're not going to talk, I'm leaving."

“I made a promise to someone,” he said suddenly. "Once that promise was fulfilled, I was free to go after what I really wanted."

She didn't understand a word of it. "So? That's your excuse for harassing me?"