MARK

I scanned the ballroom for the third time, my eyes darting frantically between the clusters of investors and the white rose displays.

Still can't find her, not even a glimpse of her reflection.

Just minutes ago, Aria was standing on the stage, bathing in the applause, looking like the queen of New York. But now, as the orchestra began to play a slower waltz and the waiters circulated with fresh champagne, the silver dress was nowhere to be seen.

She hadn’t come to say goodnight or offered a professional handshake to seal the evening’s success. She hadn’t even sent a text message. She had simply evaporated into the night...