Chapter 60

**G R A C E**

When I step out of the house, Sofia is right beside me, practically glowing in her stunning brown gown. It’s strapless, with a fitted bodice that flares out into layers of soft tulle, the kind that looks effortless but probably took a village to create. She’s pinned her auburn hair up into a sleek bun, with tiny, glimmering pins that catch the light every time she moves. If anyone’s meant for a masquerade ball, it’s Sofia—the picture of sophistication. Next to her, I feel like the lesser star in a constellation, which is honestly fine by me.

“Are you sure this looks okay?” I ask, smoothing the midnight blue fabric of my dress for what must be the hundredth time.

Sofia doesn’t even look at me. “If by ‘okay’ you mean you’re about to stop traffic, then yes. You’re fine.”

I roll my eyes, but I can’t help smiling. She has this way of making me feel like maybe I belong here, in this world of couture gowns and masked balls. Even if I’m faking it half the time.

As we step onto the porch, I brace myself for the walk down the beach. The heels, the sand, the distance—all of it feels like a disaster waiting to happen. But instead of Karl’s towering figure leaning against the post, there’s a small beach buggy parked just outside, the driver already waiting.

“Thank God,” I mutter, half to myself. “I was starting to sweat just thinking about that walk.”

Sofia laughs as we climb in, the soft hum of the engine already a relief. “You think I’d let you ruin that dress before the night even begins? Please.”

Once we’re settled, I glance at her. “So, is Karl running late or…?” I can’t help but think back to how giddy she was earlier, telling me all about their day. Apparently, they spent the day riding horses and sharing tacos And the way she was talking about it, it sounded romantic Instead of the utter chaos that was Matt and I.. By the end of it, Sofia was practically glowing. She confided in me that tonight might be the night they finally take things to the next level, and I couldn’t help but feel genuinely happy for her. She deserves someone who makes her smile like that.

She shakes her head, a secretive smile tugging at her lips. “Nope. I told him not to come.”

“Wait, what?” I blink at her. “Why?”

“Because,” she says, leaning back with a dramatic sigh, “one of the biggest traditions of masquerade night is for couples to find each other in the crowd. It’s like a game. You’re supposed to spot your partner before the first dance, and whoever you catch for that dance becomes your unofficial date for the evening. Romantic, right?”

I narrow my eyes. “So you’re just… gambling on the idea that you’ll magically find Karl in a room full of masked strangers? Do you know what he is wearing?”

Sofia shrugs, completely unbothered. “Oh no, nobody knows what anyone is wearing, but I’ll find him. Trust me.”

Her confidence is maddening and weirdly infectious. I’m not sure if I’d have the same faith in my observational skills. “Who else knows what I’m wearing?” I ask, suddenly a little paranoid.

“No one,” Sofia says firmly. “Just me. So don’t worry about it.” Then, with a teasing grin, she adds, “Why? Is this about the hot horseman from this morning?”

“Oh, my God, stop.” I swat at her, but she just laughs. “What horseman?” I add, trying for casual.

She gives me a look, one eyebrow raised in that infuriating way she has. “The one with the pretty blue eyes. The one you were all smiles and laughter with while the rest of us were eating tacos. Don’t play dumb, Grace.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I say, staring out at the beach like it suddenly holds all the answers to life’s questions. My tone is light, but inside, my brain is doing somersaults. If Sofia’s going to assume I’m thinking about some random horseman, fine. That’s better than the truth. Way better than her knowing that my thoughts have been tangled up all day in… well, her brother.

Which is bad. For a million reasons. Not the least of which is that he’s Alex Moretti—arrogant, infuriating, and completely undeserving of the amount of real estate he’s taken up in my head. He hasn’t even checked on me since last night, which isn’t exactly shocking. That’s just how he operates. He does what he wants, when he wants. Walks into rooms, takes up space, touches people—me—like it’s his right. And I’m done letting him.

In fact, I have an idea. A brilliant one. I am going to make sure he cannot find me. Whatever game he is playing, if I can't stop him, I'm going to make it very difficult for him. Suddenly, the entire idea of a masked ball sounds like the best thing in the world.