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I laughed. “‘Anything you say in Latin sounds profound,’” I translated delightedly.

I’d been obsessed with language—its history, its influence—since I was little, and as the daughter of a politician I’d seen firsthand how words could be used to change people’s minds. My father was an expert at it. In fact, my logophilia—my love of words—came from him. From a young age, he was always quizzing me on vocabulary. Always urging me to choose my words carefully.

Suddenly, though, I found myself speechless.

Across the ballroom, in a shawl-collar tux that looked like Tom Ford had made it just for him, was the most attractive man I’d ever seen in my life.

Raw, animal magnetism seemed to emanate from him. He was dark and handsome and strong-jawed, the sleeves of his jacket hugging broad, sculpted shoulders. His posture was both laid-back and confident. When he threw his head back to laugh, I felt a tightening in my gut. I wanted nothing more than to be in on the joke.

“Victoria?” the congressman broke in. “Are you alright?”

I’d stopped dead in my tracks.

“Sorry,” I said, realizing I had been holding my breath.

We resumed, dancing closer to the mystery man. He seemed to be focused on the gentleman in front of him—an older, leaner, grayer version of himself. I couldn’t tear my gaze away, desperate for the younger man to look in my direction.

Finally—finally—he looked up. His eyes were green.

Not just any green. A pale shade, like sunlight through leaves, a color you’d call…viridescent. From the Latinviridis. So striking against his warm skin tone.

And then our eyes caught.

I felt my pulse quicken under his gaze. I wasn’t usually one to bask in the attention of strangers, but amid the sea of black and white eveningwear, I knew I was impossible to ignore.

In my shimmery blue dress and diamond earrings, I was meant to give the impression of an American princess, down to the tiara in my upswept hair. My skin glowed, my makeup natural except for a dark red lipstick; a concession from my father. The lipstick made it clear that I was a woman now. I hoped the green-eyed man had noticed.

Over McDonnell’s shoulder, I could see him still looking my way. My skin tingled.

Who was he?

Feeling bold, I murmured an apology and pulled away from the congressman mid-step, making my way toward the man even as I tottered a little in my silver satin heels. There had to be a way to meet him. He was here for a reason; my father never invited people to events like this unless he needed something from them.

Across the room, the man abruptly turned his back to me as his companion grabbed his arm in emphasis. I halted in the crowd, my pulse still pounding in my ears.

How was he having this effect on me? It wasn’t as if I hadn’t been around attractive men before. As a politician’s daughter, I’d rubbed elbows with celebrities of all sorts—actors, musicians, artists. None of them had ever made me breathless the way this stranger did.

I’d had crushes, too—fleeting moments of infatuation with the older brothers of school friends or the college-age baristas at Starbucks—but this felt completely different. The source of those previous crushes had been boys. Whoever this guy was, he was aman.

I shivered.

Forcing myself to act casual, I feigned interest in the orchestra. The last thing I wanted was for him to look back and discover I was still staring at him like he was my birthday cake. I might not have been very experienced with men, but I knew they appreciated a chase.

“There you are!” Michelle said, sweeping up behind me to take my arm. “Daddy needs you.”

I spotted my father as we headed over. As always, his posture was upright, his presence commanding. The gray streaks in his hair gave him a look of authority and experience. We had the same steel blue eyes, the same headstrong nature. Of course, I kept mine hidden beneath a veneer of docility. I’d learned from a young age that if I really wanted something, I had to play the good girl. Make my father think it was his idea all along.

We came upon him speaking with a colleague, and I presented my cheek for a kiss.

“And the princess arrives,” my father announced. “Are you excited about your gift?”

“Very much so,” I said. “I can’t wait.”

He smiled at me, and I felt a rush of joy and pride. Our arguments about college lately had been dredging up all the old fears: that I wasn’t the kind of daughter he wished he had. But in that moment, things between us felt exactly right.

“First things first,” he said, turning me to face his guest. “Tori, my dear, have you met Congressman Ellis?”

“It’s an honor.” Ellis took my hand and placed a kiss on top of it. His gaze however, remained fixated on my cleavage.