**Chapter Ten** As Jericho strides towards me, time seems to suspend in its tracks, and the lingering sensation of his lips on mine sends a shiver coursing through my body. It’s a dangerous thought to entertain, especially as I brace myself for what lies ahead. Sanity—something I desperately need—teeters precariously as the sheer magnetism of him draws me in. How could I focus on anything else when he appears to have stepped straight from the glossy pages of a magazine, carrying an aura of confidence that echoes throughout the grand New York night? Once just a boy who left me breathless, he has transformed into a man—one of the most coveted in this hemisphere, no less. The moon casts a soft glow upon him, highlighting the sharp lines of his jaw and the effortless elegance of his stance. A gentle breeze plays with his perfectly styled hair, and his attire—a sleek black shirt that clings to his frame, beige trousers that accentuate his build, and polished tan brogues—exudes a sophistication that makes my heart race. Despite my best efforts over the years to blend in, I still feel like an outsider in his presence. Yet, tonight, his gaze fixes on me with an intensity that suggests I hold significance, like some rare treasure in the midst of a gilded treasure trove. Just earlier, a Maybach whisked me from Gina's place to this exquisite terrace, a gesture that could easily fool me into believing I matter—at least for one fleeting night before reality crashes back in. Even as nerves twist within me, I managed to patch together my finances: clearing the arrears on my loans and paying off bills that had been suffocating me. For the entire day, I’d tiptoed around the lies spun for Eden, who’d bombarded me with questions about how the auction went, eager to know the details of my encounter. I’d told her about the money—a comforting truth for her—but fabricated a softer story about an elderly man wishing to have me accompany him to a wedding, conveniently omitting any mention of Jericho. That was a door to questions I simply couldn’t face. Standing on this terrace, under a canvas of stars, the skyline of New York framing us, feels both impossibly romantic and oddly disjointed. It’s as if the universe is playing some grand trick, placing us in this surreal moment where neither of us truly belongs. Jericho halts mere inches away, his towering presence overwhelming me. My wedge heels elevate me slightly, yet the height difference still has me feeling diminutive. A teasing smirk plays at the corners of his mouth as his gaze sweeps over me, a spark of playfulness lighting up his expression—a dangerous mix of charm and intensity that renders me speechless. “Hello,” he says, his voice a smooth baritone, each word wrapped in an enticing playfulness. “Hi,” I stammer. “Did you get here okay?” he inquires, his eyes locking onto mine as if trying to decipher the secrets hidden beneath my surface. “Yes, I did. Thank you.” The words spill out, yet I know I owe him gratitude for more than just the ride. “And thank you for the extra money. You didn’t have to do that.” “I know,” he replies, his gaze piercing as if gauging the extent of my honesty. “Did it help?” “A lot,” I confess, feeling the weight of my ungratefulness slowly lifting. He leans in closer, probing further. “I hope that means there won’t be any more auctions.” “No,” I assure him, preparing myself for the next question. “There won’t be.” I offer him the reassuring news I had conjured earlier, almost as if it were a lifeline for my pride. “I plan to leave the club in three months. Everything will be okay by then.” “What about in the meantime?” he presses, his curiosity slicing through the air. “Will you just be on the aerial hoop, or will you have to do other things?” Other things—like the unspeakable acts I’ve tried to suppress from my mind. An ember of embarrassment flares up inside me. “I’ll only be working on the aerial hoop. The auction was the most outlandish thing I’ve done there. Even when I’m booked for parties, it’s just serving drinks.” He contemplates my response, searching my face for any hint of deception. I feel bare and exposed, my past hanging over me like a dark shadow. How can I expect him to believe that I’m anything but a mere pawn in a sordid game? “I suppose that sounds okay,” he finally concedes with a nod, a flicker of relief igniting within me. “Are you sure you don’t need any more help?” he inquires next, and the sincerity in his voice makes my chest tighten. It’s a loaded question, one I’m tempted to answer with a desperate “yes.” My pride hangs by a frayed thread, yet I refuse to admit vulnerability—not again, not with anyone. My experiences have forged lessons in my life that I’m reluctant to revisit, hard-earned knowledge that tells me to rely on no one but myself. “I’m okay now,” I nod, forcing a smile. Jericho straightens, satisfactory evident in his demeanor as he processes my words. “Alright, sounds like you have a handle on things.” “Yes. I do. Thanks again for your support, despite the circumstances.” Yet those circumstances weigh heavy on my heart—a mixture of gratitude and unsettling tension linger in the air between us. He hesitates, and for an instant, I wonder if the burning question on my tongue will escape. Why did he kiss me? No, asking that would only complicate everything. I swallow my curiosity down. “So… um, we’re here.” My hand flutters nervously, gesturing to the magnificent surroundings before us. “I’ve heard good things about this show.” “You’ll love it,” he assures, the edges of his demeanor softening. The tension between us melts just enough for me to breathe easier. “We’re having dinner first, then we’ll see the show and have a chance to look at the artwork afterward.” “That sounds good,” I reply, a hesitant smile beginning to form. “Perfect. Are you ready?” Am I ever ready? No—especially not for the enigma that is Jericho Grayson. Contemplating the storm of feelings he stirs within me makes my head spin. Yet, I have no choice. “Yes,” I lie, forcefully banishing my worries to the recesses of my mind. “Let’s go,” he says, his voice lowering as his gaze roams over my dress, before extending his hand toward me. As I step closer, he guides his hand to the small of my back, his fingers grazing my bare skin, igniting a fire deep within me. A rush of desire surges through me, awakening dormant feelings I thought long buried. I glance up, catching his gaze, and I find the same look he gave me the night before—a look that sends shivers down my spine and makes my heart race. The combination of fear and exhilaration coils tightly in my chest, a strange cocktail I can’t quite digest. Focus, River. Concentrate. This isn’t just a date; it’s a pivotal part of my job. Anyone else winning me at that auction wouldn’t faze me, but because it’s Jericho, the stakes feel infinitely higher. Still, if I could frame these forthcoming hours purely as a professional obligation, perhaps I could weather the storm without losing my grip. But that’s easier said than done. Breaking the spell of our shared gaze, he ushers me into the vibrant interior of the building, ready to embark on the next chapter of our night together. I just hope I can emerge from this unscathed.