The Meridian Grand Hotel ballroom was charity in name only. In truth, it was a temple to excess. Crystal chandeliers—each the size of a compact car—spilled fractured light across marble floors polished to a mirror sheen. Every reflection caught pieces of the city's elite as they drifted through the space, five hundred strong. People born to power. People ruthless enough to steal it.
This is his world. These are his people.
Elara's hand rested in the crook of Kael's arm as they entered, fashionably late as promised. The air shifted instantly. Hundreds of eyes swung toward them, cataloging everything—the black gown that shimmered like liquid shadow, the diamond that burned fire on her finger, the way she carried herself at his side as though she belonged.
Smile. Play the part. Remember what's at stake.
"Breathe," Kael murmured against her ear, low enough for only her. "You look like you're facing a firing squad."
That's because I am. Every person here is a bullet aimed at what's left of me.
"I'm fine," she lied, tightening her grip on his arm.
"You're terrified," he corrected. There was a flicker of amusement in his voice. "But you're magnificent. Look how they're watching you."
They're watching your trophy. Your newest acquisition.
Still, the attention wasn't the same as the stares in the diner. This wasn't crude or curious. It was calculating. Assessing. The weight of being visible because of who stood beside her. In weeks, she'd gone from invisible to glaringly present. It unsettled her more than she cared to admit.
"Mr. Thorne!" A portly man waddled forward, his tuxedo straining against his bulk. He radiated delight. "We weren't sure you'd attend. And this must be the mysterious woman we've heard whispers about."
Mysterious woman. Is that what I am now?
"Senator Crawford," Kael said smoothly. His hand slid to the small of her back, proprietary. "May I introduce Elara Chen, my fiancée."
Fiancée. The word lands heavier when said to someone real.
"Enchanted, my dear." Crawford's handshake was clammy, lingering too long. "Kael's been keeping you quite the secret. Where did you two meet?"
Here it comes. Curtain up.
"Through mutual friends," she replied, sticking to their script. "It was… unexpected."
"The best things usually are." Crawford winked, a gesture so smug it made her skin crawl. "And the wedding?"
"We're deciding," Kael said smoothly. "Though I'm pressing for sooner rather than later."
Sooner. Because six months may not be enough to break me.
The next hour blurred. Introductions. Half-truths. Lies polished until they gleamed. Names she knew only from buildings or headlines. Politicians with smiles too sharp. Businessmen who shook her hand like they were inspecting a commodity.
Kael stayed close. His hand at her back. His presence pressed against her nerves. She played along, realizing years of fake-smiling through double shifts had prepared her for this—maintaining charm while something inside withered.
This is service work, just dressed up. Smile, nod, sell the illusion.
Except here, she wasn't the waitress. She was the product.
"You're handling this well," Kael murmured as they lingered by the champagne fountain, finally alone for a breath. "Better than I expected."
Should I be flattered? Or insulted?
"I learn fast," she said, taking a glass from a passing tray.
"Yes. You do." His gaze pinned her, hot and clinical at once. "It's one of your most attractive qualities."
Attractive. Because adapting to captivity makes me irresistible.
"Kael Thorne." The voice that cut in was smooth as silk, sharp as broken glass. "Still collecting beautiful things, I see."
The man who approached looked eerily like a variation of Kael—lighter hair that caught light like spun gold, eyes the color of whiskey, features too symmetrical, almost classic. He wore his tuxedo like it was second skin, moved with grace that whispered predator.
Another one. Another dangerous man who probably kills before breakfast.
But his attention felt different. Less like Kael's microscope, more like a laser peeling away her clothes.
"Lucien," Kael said, his tone colder than she'd ever heard. "I didn't know you were invited."
"Didn't know I needed one." Lucien's smile was easy charm laid over steel. "But I understand your… desire for privacy."
Oh no. Not a rival. An enemy.
"Lucien Mercier," he introduced himself, extending a hand to Elara with old-world courtesy. "And you must be the woman who finally tamed the Ice Man."
Tamed. Like he's an animal.
"Elara Chen," she said, meeting his grip. Warm. Firm. Measured.
Don't be fooled. He's just as dangerous.
"Enchanted." He bent, brushing her knuckles with a kiss that felt more intimate than outdated. "I'm surprised Kael found someone able to endure his intensity."
Tolerate. If only you knew.
"Lucien," Kael's voice dropped to warning, "perhaps you should—"
"Ask her to dance?" Lucien cut in, smiling. "That's exactly what I was about to do. You don't mind, do you, old friend?"
Old friend. The look in their eyes says blood and betrayal, not friendship.
Kael's hand dug into her back, hard enough to sting. "We were just about to—"
"I'd love to dance," Elara said suddenly. The words shocked even herself.
What are you doing? This is reckless.
But it was a sliver of agency, however small. And Lucien's charm, dangerous though it was, felt like fresh air after suffocating intensity.
Poisoned air, maybe. But still different.
Kael's jaw ticked, fury pulsing under his calm. "One dance," he said, voice like a razor. "And if your hands stray, Lucien, you'll learn how creative I am with sharp objects."
God. That doesn't sound like a joke.
Lucien's laugh rolled out warm, genuine. "Always so dramatic. Come, Ms. Chen. Let's show them how it's done."
He offered his arm. After a moment, she took it. Kael's eyes burned into her back as Lucien led her toward the floor.
I'll pay for this later. But right now? Worth it.
The orchestra played a waltz, elegant and demanding. Lucien's hand found her waist, respectful distance, yet intimate by nature.
He's good. Too good. Which means practice. A lot of it.
"You're brave," he said as they moved. "Few people defy Kael Thorne in public."
"I didn't defy him. I just accepted a dance."
"With Kael, that is defiance." His smile was conspiratorial. "And I'm grateful. Up close, you're even more striking."
Don't get pulled in. This is another trap.
"You know him well?" she asked, steering conversation away.
"We grew up together." Lucien spun her lightly, effortlessly. "Prep school. Ivy League. Same ambition to own the world."
Same cruelty. Same taste for blood.
"What happened?"
"What always happens when predators share territory." His expression flickered. "We wanted the same things. Companies. Power. Women."
People as prizes. Of course.
"And now?"
"Now we're enemies who pretend civility for business." His hand shifted almost imperceptibly. "Though I admit—his choice of fiancée has never been better."
Fiancée. Right. I'm supposed to be his great love.
"He seems protective," she offered.
Lucien's laugh held genuine amusement. "Protective? Try obsessive. Possessive. Controlling."
If only you knew.
"You don't approve?"
"I don't judge." His eyes lingered on her. "I just wonder what a woman like you is doing with him."
A woman like me?
"What kind of woman am I?"
"One too intelligent, too alive, to be caged." His gaze sharpened. "You deserve more than to be someone's beautiful possession."
How does he know? Can he tell?
"You don't know our relationship," she said. The protest felt weak.
"Don't I?" He spun her again, and when they rejoined, he was closer. She could smell him, warm and expensive. "I know the difference between performance and truth. Between love and survival."
Stop. Please stop seeing me so clearly.
"You're imagining things."
"Am I?" His smile tilted sad. "Then why do you stand like a prisoner? Why do your eyes track him every few seconds? Why does your smile look like fear?"
Because it is fear. Wrapped in silk and diamonds.
"You're projecting," she insisted, pulling back slightly.
"Maybe." His expression said otherwise. "Or maybe I'm the only one bold enough to voice what others see."
The music swelled toward its end. Dread pooled in her stomach. Going back to Kael meant consequences.
Lucien's voice dropped. "If you ever want out—if gilded cages stop appealing—you have options."
Options. Trading one predator for another?
"Why help me?"
He smiled, sharp and strangely sad. "Because the enemy of my enemy can be an ally. And because chaos suits Kael poorly. You, I think, are chaos."
The music ended. Lucien bowed, respectful yet mocking. "Thank you, Ms. Chen. Enlightening."
Enlightening. What is that supposed to mean?
Kael was suddenly there. His arm snaked around her waist, iron tight, dragging her flush against him. His hand tipped her chin up until their eyes locked.
Oh no. This is bad.
His gaze burned—rage barely caged, jealousy raw, something that looked uncomfortably like fear beneath it all.
He's afraid. That I might choose someone else?
"We're leaving," he said softly.
"But we just—"
"Now, Elara." His grip tightened, violence humming under his skin. "Before I make tomorrow's headlines."
This was a mistake. A huge mistake.
Yet, as he guided her toward the exit, fury radiating from every line of him, she couldn't regret it.
For three fleeting minutes, she'd felt almost human.
Almost free.
And by the burning fury in Kael's eyes, he knew it too.