EIRA'S POV
I was going to lose my mind.
What was I supposed to wear?
For the tenth time, I stood before my wardrobe, surveying the clothes strewn across my bed as though the right outfit might magically appear if I glared at the mess long enough.
Tonight, I had to attend that insufferable jerk Peter's party.
For Tessy.
Only for Tessy.
Otherwise, I would sooner throw myself into a volcano.
With an exasperated groan, I flung another dress onto the growing pile.
And because the universe apparently despised me, Adrian had spent the entire past week avoiding me.
No arguments. No cutting remarks. Not even one of those infuriating glances that made me wonder what was going on inside his impossible head.
Nothing.
I hated it.
Which was ridiculous, considering how often I'd wished he'd leave me alone.
Apparently, the universe had a twisted sense of humor.
"Ugh!"
My gaze landed on a dress draped over the corner of my bed.
Finally.
Twenty minutes later, after a brutal war with my makeup, my hair, and a pair of shoes determined to break my ankles, I hurried downstairs.
I was late.
Again.
The moment my cab pulled up outside Peter's mansion, I prepared an apology for Tessy.
Then I stepped out.
And forgot how to breathe.
Holy.
Shit.
Peter's mansion looked less like a residence and more like a palace designed to make ordinary people painfully aware of their bank balances.
Golden lights illuminated the sprawling estate, glinting off marble pillars and towering windows. Crystal fountains shimmered beneath the night sky, while luxury cars lined the driveway.
Everything was immaculate.
Extravagant.
Almost offensively beautiful.
I glanced down at myself.
Suddenly, my dress felt inadequate. My shoes felt cheap. Even the way I stood seemed embarrassingly ordinary.
Around me, guests drifted through the entrance in designer suits and glittering gowns, wearing the effortless confidence of people who had never questioned whether they belonged somewhere.
And then there was me.
A girl who had nearly strangled herself with a necklace ten minutes ago.
Wonderful.
I was about to retreat to the safety of the cab when I spotted Tessy.
She looked breathtaking.
Her royal-blue gown swept elegantly around her, delicate jewelry glittering against her skin. But it was the happiness illuminating her face that made her truly beautiful.
She looked like a princess on the verge of her happily-ever-after.
The thought should have made me smile.
Instead, something tightened in my chest.
I ignored it.
The instant Tessy spotted me, her face brightened.
"Eira!"
She hurried over and pulled me into a hug.
"You look marvelous!" she exclaimed, drawing back to admire me. "Like an actual princess!"
I laughed.
"And you look so beautiful that I might have to start disliking you."
She giggled and hugged me again.
For a fleeting moment, everything felt right.
Then a woman approached and murmured something in Tessy's ear.
Her expression shifted.
"Oh, I have to meet someone," she said apologetically. "I'll be back in a few minutes, okay?"
"Of course. Go."
She squeezed my hand before hurrying away.
A waiter approached with a tray of drinks. I politely declined, preferring to keep my hands free in case I needed to defend myself against the aggressively wealthy.
That was when I saw her.
Victoria.
Of course.
Because apparently, the evening hadn't accumulated enough disasters.
She stood across the room in a blood-red gown, her lips curved into a smile that made my instincts scream in protest.
The moment our eyes met, she tilted her head.
Then smiled wider.
Oh, no.
I knew that expression.
It belonged to someone who had already decided to ruin my evening and was merely choosing the most entertaining method.
Victoria leaned toward one of her friends and whispered something.
The girl glanced in my direction, then started walking toward me.
She wasn't looking at me.
She was looking over my shoulder.
My brows knitted together.
What—
Cold liquid drenched the front of my dress.
I stumbled back, gasping as the drink soaked into the fabric.
The surrounding conversations faltered.
Several people turned to stare.
"Oh! Oops."
The girl pressed a hand to her mouth, her eyes widening with theatrical innocence.
"I'm so sorry!"
Behind her, Victoria and her friends burst into laughter.
Heat crawled up my neck.
My fingers curled into fists.
For one glorious second, I imagined introducing Victoria to an entire tray of drinks.
Preferably one at a time.
But I wasn't here for her.
I was here for Tessy.
So I swallowed the retort burning on my tongue, lifted my chin, and walked away.
None of them were worth it.
I climbed the stairs in search of a bathroom, hoping to salvage my dress before Tessy noticed the stain.
Halfway down the corridor, a girl's laugh stopped me.
Soft. Breathless. Intimate.
A familiar male voice followed, low enough that I couldn't make out the words.
Something felt wrong.
I approached the partially open door, intending to knock and ask for directions.
Then I glanced inside.
And the world tilted beneath my feet.
Peter.
His hands rested on another girl's waist, his mouth pressed against hers. Her arms were looped around his neck, and he kissed her with the ease of someone who had forgotten the existence of consequences.
The same man who was supposed to stand beside Tessy tonight and announce their future together.
For several seconds, I couldn't move.
Then disbelief gave way to rage.
How could he?
How could he smile at Tessy, hold her hand, make promises to her face, and betray her without a second thought?
My throat constricted.
She had done nothing to deserve this.
Nothing.
I pulled out my phone.
Proof.
If I accused Peter without evidence, he could deny everything, twist the truth, and convince Tessy that I was the problem.
Not this time.
I raised my phone and began recording through the narrow gap in the door.
My pulse hammered as I captured his face, the girl's arms around him, and the unmistakable intimacy between them.
There.
That was enough.
I stopped recording and began to retreat.
One step.
Then another.
Almost there—
CRACK.
The door shifted beneath my elbow.
Peter pulled away from the girl.
His gaze snapped toward the doorway.
And found me.
For a fraction of a second, neither of us moved.
Then his expression hardened.
Shit.
I ran.
My shoes struck the polished floor in frantic beats as I tore down the corridor. I refused to look back.
I needed Tessy before Peter could reach her.
I spotted her mother near the staircase and rushed toward her.
"Where's Tessy?"
She looked startled by my urgency.
"Left corridor. Third room."
I was already moving.
"Tessy!"
I found her standing before a mirror, adjusting her earrings.
She looked radiant.
Happy.
Completely unaware that the man she loved had just made a mockery of her trust.
The sight nearly broke me.
"Eira!" she exclaimed, turning toward me. "What do you think? Is everything perfect?"
"I need to show you something."
"Not now!" She laughed, turning back to the mirror. "I have to look perfect for Peter."
The words struck like a blade.
"Tessy, please. Just listen to me."
"Eira, I'm nervous enough already. This night means everything to me."
"That's exactly why you need to see this."
I caught her wrist gently.
She turned, her smile faltering when she noticed the stain on my dress and the urgency in my face.
"What happened?"
"I found something about Peter."
Her brows drew together.
"What are you talking about?"
I unlocked my phone and opened the recording.
Then—
The door swung open.
Peter stood in the doorway, not a hair out of place, his expression a masterpiece of manufactured concern.
"My father's looking for you, Tessy. It's time."
Tessy's face brightened.
"Oh! I completely forgot!"
She started toward him.
"Tessy, wait!"
She paused.
I reached for her hand.
"Please. Just give me one minute."
Uncertainty flickered across her face.
Then Peter held out his hand.
"Come on, sweetheart. Everyone's waiting."
Sweetheart.
The audacity was almost impressive.
Tessy glanced at me apologetically.
"I'll be right back, okay?"
Then she took his hand and left.
With him.
The door closed.
I stood frozen, my phone clutched in my palm.
She hadn't even seen the video.
A bitter laugh escaped me.
Of course.
What could possibly go wrong?
The door opened again.
Peter stepped inside and closed it behind him.
The pleasant expression he'd worn for Tessy vanished.
His gaze dropped to my phone.
That smirk appeared.
I took a step backward.
"Give me my phone."
He crossed the room without answering.
I retreated again.
"Peter—"
His hand closed around my wrist. He twisted sharply, forcing my fingers open.
A cry escaped me.
My phone slipped from my grasp.
He caught it before it hit the floor.
"No!"
I lunged for it.
He shoved me back, and my shoulder struck the wall.
Before I could recover, he'd unlocked the screen.
"Let's see what we have here."
"Don't you dare!"
I reached for the phone. He lifted it beyond my grasp and watched the recording.
His face remained impassive as he witnessed his own betrayal.
When it ended, he raised his eyes to mine.
"Delete."
One tap.
Gone.
"No."
I stared at the screen.
The only proof I had.
Gone.
I lunged again.
Peter caught my upper arm and flung me aside. My hip struck the edge of a table, sending a sharp jolt through my body.
Then he hurled the phone against the wall.
SMASH.
Fragments scattered across the floor.
My gaze followed them.
"You—"
"How many times do I have to tell you not to interfere in my life?"
His voice was quiet, controlled, and chilling.
"Your life?" I snapped. "You were cheating on Tessy!"
His jaw tightened.
"You should have kept your nose out of it."
"She deserves to know!"
Something in his expression hardened.
He crossed the distance between us and slammed me against the wall.
Before I could slip away, his fingers clamped around my jaw, forcing my face upward.
Pain shot through my cheek.
"Listen carefully," he snarled. "Stay out of my business."
I seized his wrist with both hands.
"Let go of me!"
I tried to wrench his hand away. He tightened his grip, then locked his other arm around my waist, pinning me against him.
The pressure stole my breath.
I shoved at his chest.
Nothing.
I twisted, trying to escape his hold, but he shifted his stance and trapped me more securely against the wall.
"Why, Eira?"
His voice dropped to a vicious whisper.
"Why can't you learn to mind your own business?"
"Because Tessy deserves better than you!"
His expression darkened.
He tightened his hold until pain radiated along my jaw.
"Peter, stop!"
"Or what?"
The taunt was almost conversational.
I tried to knee him, but he blocked me with his leg.
Fear swallowed my anger.
This wasn't an argument anymore. This was a man who believed my refusal to obey him gave him the right to hurt me.
My vision blurred as I struggled against his grip.
"Please—"
The word escaped before I could stop it.
Then a shadow fell across us.
The pressure vanished.
A powerful hand seized Peter by the collar and tore him away from me.
I stumbled forward.
Before I could fall, an arm swept around my waist and caught me.
I collided with a solid chest, my fingers instinctively clutching the fabric of a black shirt.
A familiar scent reached me.
Clean. Dark. Unmistakable.
I lifted my head.
Adrian.
His arm held me upright while his other hand hovered near my face. His black eyes moved over my features, settling on the red marks spreading across my jaw.
His thumb brushed a tear from my cheek.
The touch was so gentle that my throat tightened.
"Adrian…"
His gaze dropped to the bruising beneath my skin.
Then he looked at Peter.
The gentleness vanished.
Adrian released my waist only after ensuring I could stand.
Then he moved.
One instant, Peter stood several feet away, straightening his suit.
The next, Adrian had him by the throat.
Peter's feet left the floor.
A strangled gasp escaped him as Adrian lifted him effortlessly, one hand wrapped around his neck.
My eyes widened.
"Adrian!"
Peter clawed at Adrian's wrist, his polished composure crumbling as his legs kicked uselessly in the air.
Adrian didn't strain.
Didn't shout.
He simply held him there.
"How dare you touch her?"
His voice was quiet, carrying a lethal certainty that chilled me more than any scream could have.
Peter tried to speak.
Only a choked gasp emerged.
Adrian's fingers tightened.
"Adrian, stop!"
I rushed forward and grabbed his forearm. The muscles beneath his sleeve were rigid, his arm immovable beneath my hands.
He didn't look at me.
"Please!"
I pulled at his wrist.
"Adrian, you're going to kill him!"
His gaze remained fixed on Peter.
For the first time, I understood that he wasn't trying to frighten him.
He was deciding whether Peter deserved to walk away.
I stepped in front of Adrian, gripping his arm with both hands.
"Look at me!"
His black eyes finally shifted toward mine.
I froze.
The fury in them was immense, barely contained beneath an expression of absolute stillness.
My fingers tightened around his arm.
"Please," I whispered. "Don't do this."
His gaze flickered toward the marks on my face.
Peter made a desperate, choking sound.
"Adrian!"
My voice broke.
"He'll die!"
For one terrible second, Adrian didn't move.
Then his fingers opened.
Peter crashed to the floor, coughing violently as he dragged air into his lungs.
Adrian stood over him, his expression cold and unreadable.
Peter scrambled backward, one hand pressed to his throat.
Adrian took a step toward him.
Peter recoiled.
"Stay."
The single word cut through the room.
Adrian tilted his head.
"Away."
Peter's gaze darted toward the door.
Adrian advanced another step.
"From."
Peter pressed himself against the wall, his face drained of color.
Adrian stopped in front of him.
"Her."
Silence descended.
Peter lowered his eyes.
He didn't argue.
Adrian stared at him for another moment, then turned away.
His hand closed around mine.
I flinched at the sudden contact.
He noticed and immediately loosened his grip.
"Come on."
He led me toward the door, his strides brisk enough that I had to hurry to keep up.
I glanced back once.
Peter remained on the floor, coughing, his hand pressed to his throat.
Adrian didn't look at him again.
We moved through the corridor in silence.
His hand enclosed mine, warm and firm. I could barely organize my thoughts.
Peter's fingers digging into my jaw.
The wall against my back.
The certainty that I couldn't escape.
Then Adrian's arm around my waist, catching me before I fell.
I tightened my fingers around his.
His thumb shifted once against my knuckles.
The small gesture made my chest ache.
We reached an empty corridor, far from the noise and glitter of the party.
Adrian stopped.
His fingers slipped from mine.
He turned toward me, his gaze settling on the marks across my face.
Slowly, he lifted his hand.
His fingertips hovered beside my cheek, close enough for me to feel their warmth, but he didn't touch me.
For one suspended moment, neither of us moved.
Then his hand dropped.
His expression closed off.
"Go home, Eira."
I stared at him.
"That's it?"
His brow lifted.
"What else do you want?"
Under different circumstances, I might have thrown something at him.
Instead, I searched his face for a sign that he cared whether I was all right.
"Nothing," I whispered.
His jaw tightened.
For a fleeting second, something almost resembling pain crossed his face.
Then he turned away.
"Adrian?"
He stopped but didn't look back.
"Why did you help me?"
The silence stretched.
Finally, he glanced over his shoulder.
"Don't flatter yourself."
The familiar arrogance was back.
"Anyone would have done the same."
We both knew that wasn't true.
Before I could challenge him, he walked away.
I remained in the corridor, my fingers pressed against my aching jaw.
Peter had frightened me. His grip still lingered in my memory, an ugly reminder of how quickly a room could become a trap.
But Adrian had unsettled me for a different reason.
I'd seen the moment he noticed the marks on my face.
I'd watched something inside him turn cold enough to terrify the very man who'd hurt me.
And I'd felt his hand loosen the instant I flinched.
He had spent an entire week pretending I meant nothing to him.
Yet when Peter touched me, Adrian had appeared without hesitation.
I looked toward the corridor where he'd disappeared.
The most dangerous thing about Adrian Blake wasn't his temper.
It was the way he'd looked at Peter—as though the entire world could condemn him for what he'd done, and he would still consider it a price worth paying.
Yet minutes later, he'd looked me in the eyes and told me not to flatter myself.
I pressed my fingers against my aching jaw.
Am I wrong, Adrian?
Is everything I feel for you wrong?
If I meant nothing to him, why had he come to my rescue without hesitation? Why had his touch been so gentle when his words were always designed to push me away?
My throat tightened.
Do I really mean nothing to you?
Then why do you keep saving me?