“How… sweet. And sudden.”
“Some things don’t require time,” he replies curtly.
She turns the full wattage of her smile on me. “I suppose we should thank Thierry,” she says, eyes sliding over my dress. “They clearly found you something that… works.”
“It does,” I say evenly. “Though I made a few changes.”
Her brow lifts. “Did you.”
“Cassandra is a designer,” Damien explains before she can angle the insult sharper. “She knows her craft.”
The worddesignerlifts my chin by half an inch. Raquel notices and laughs, then quickly cuts it off.
“You’ve always had excellent taste,” she says to Damien, a compliment that turns into a weapon when it points at me. “You could have had anyone.”
“I have who I want,” he replies. “You can respect that or remove yourself. And if you say another unkind word toward Cassandra, I’ll make the decision for you.”
Those around us hear. Raquel holds his gaze a few seconds, then smiles.
“Of course,” she says sweetly. “Congratulations.” She pivots, her hand touching my arm.
“May I borrow her for a moment?” she asks Damien over her shoulder, voice honeyed.
“No,” he says.
She smiles wider, pretending she didn’t hear. “Just to welcome her,” she coos, already pulling me away.
When we’re out of Damien’s earshot, she hisses, “From one insider to another, a man like Damien eats pretty little liars like you for breakfast. What happens when he finds out you’re just a shopgirl playing dress-up?”
My stomach does a loop. I keep smiling, just like Damien told me to. “Didn’t you hear him? He already knows. And yet, I’m still here.”
For a second, there’s a crack in her expression, then, “Enjoy tonight.” Her gaze skims me again. “See you on the floor,” she says, which sounds like both a threat and a promise. Then she floats away, the bangles at her wrist clinking like coins.
I return to Damien. His eyes find mine first, flick to where Raquel was, then back to me. His hand returns to the small of my back, grounding me.
Across the room, Raquel drifts toward Ivan as if pulled by a tide. He lifts his glass and gives her a sloppy smile. She leans in, laughing at something only the two of them can hear. Alex shifts position by the pillar, reading the room. The strings climb an octave like a warning.
I stand with Damien in the center of the ballroom, the red ribbon on my pulse, the tree lights shining like small crystals, while on the other side of the city, a machine is asking my sister’s heart to wake.
CHAPTER 15
DAMIEN
The vibe of the party changes an hour later.
The string quartet that was playing cheerful Christmas tunes has been replaced by thrumming electronic music. The lights go low. It’s not long before the air reeks of sweat, perfume, and sex. In dark corners, dresses drop, baring thighs and breasts.
Cassandra stands next to me, arm in mine, back straight, chin up. Her tailored dress hugs her curves, the red ribbon flashing at her wrist. She’s perfect—her work, her body—making my dick throb. Men stare at her ass, her breasts, thinking she’s there to be claimed. She’s not. She’s mine, and she knows it. She’s turned on, and I know it.
A drunk with flashy veneers leers, his voice slurred. “Kozlov, that plump ass is too fine to keep all to yourself. Come on, share her with us.”
I wrap my arm around her waist, making my position clear, my glare lethal. “She’s mine,” I growl. “Look again, and I’ll rip those teeth out.”
He stumbles back, silenced, spilling his drink as he goes. Cassandra’s breath catches, her body pressing into me, arousal flushing her skin.
My hand settles at the small of her back. “With me.”
We leave the main floor.
