The dress shines under the light. Almost blue, almost silver, it glints in the light, layer upon layer of crystals catching and sending light shimmering in every direction. And as she raises her dress slightly to walk down, I see the shoes.
The familiar, glass, heeled shoes.
The silver lace on her face doesn’t hide her trepidation as she catches sight of me at the bottom, waiting. I glance away, my eyes landing on a male with entirely too much fucking lust in his eyes.
“Move away,” I say in a bored tone. “Now.”
He leaves. Quickly.
And I’m there to meet her, my hand held out as she slips one delicate, silver glove into it. Stasi blinks up at me. “How much trouble am I in?”
I turn us, smoothly moving back into the crowd. “Enough that we might have to spread the punishment over several… sessions.”
I hear her gulp even over the orchestra. “Oh. Well… Rafe bought my dress.”
I groan. “Of course he did. And I assume Ellen was his partner in crime?”
“It’s not her fault,” Stasi says quickly. “Don’t blame her.”
“Oh, I’m not.” I draw her out onto the dance floor. “I’m going to give her a raise.”
Stasi blinks at me as I bow.
“Dance with me, Anastasia,” I say softly. “I want to dance with the most beautiful woman in the room.”
And her eyes light up. She curtseys, perfect motion.
And then we move. She’s starlight and fire in my arms, and she laughs as I spin us. “I didn’t know you could dance.”
“My father made me take lessons. I’ve never appreciated it more.”
And we dance, to the sound of her laughter. I can feel eyes on us, inquisitive, looking at her. And as the song draws to an end. I take her hand in mine, moving to a door and nudging her through it. “Where are we going?”
“We’re here for a reason,” I say quietly. “So you may as well get the full experience.”
She sucks in breath, as I pull open another door and nudge her through it. Kit and Rafe turn, and Crispin throws up his hands. “Oh, perfect.”
“Crispin,” I drawl. “Mind your manners when you speak to my future wife.”
He stops. “What?”
Kit and Rafe draw Stasi back, keeping her between them as I approach. “We seem to have a little issue.”
Crispin swallows. “Do we? I don’t quite recall – if you could jog my memory—,”
I lean in. “Theproblem,is that your future wife is a liar. A liar, and a fraud.”
Crispin draws himself up. “Now, see here, Silas—,”
I grip his throat. His Adam’s apple bobs beneath my hand as he swallows.
“You will listen to me,” I say coolly. “Nod if you understand.”
He nods.
“Ella Cooper is a liar,” I say softly. “Anastasia was telling the truth. You have been deceived by a pretty face. Not for the first time, but you may come to regret this one.”
I release him, and he massages his throat. “And why… why is that?”
