Lev’s hand rests firmly on the small of my back as we walk into the reception. The touch is light, but it feels like a brand—possessive, grounding, inescapable. I don’t want to escape. Here, I feel safe.
The room stills for a moment, then erupts into polite applause and murmurs. I keep my chin up, my hands steady, even though my pulse is a mess. The pink dress clings to me like a second skin, soft and feminine against the sharp cut of Lev’s black suit. It feels deliberate—like he wanted me to look delicate beside him.
Eyes follow us everywhere. Some are warm and admiring. Others are sharp, assessing, like they’re trying to figure out what I’m made of and how easily I’ll break.
Breathe,I remind myself.Smile when you need to. Don’t flinch. Don’t fumble.
Noelle’s voice echoes in my head, calm and steady from the hours she spent helping me get ready.You belong here, Sasha. Don’t let them see you doubt it.
So I straighten my shoulders, paint on a soft smile, and pretend that I’ve always belonged in a world of crystal chandeliers, men with guns under their jackets, and women who know how to survive them.
We make our way to the platform together, hand in hand, moving through the sea of people and noise. The music is soft but charged, and the air smells like champagne and roses. Cameras flash, glasses clink, laughter rises and fades.
When we finally sit, Lev doesn’t take his eyes off me. He leans close, his breath warm against my ear.
“You’re doing okay,” he murmurs, his voice a low growl meant only for me. “You’re a queen, Sasha. You’re so fucking gorgeous.”
The words slip under my skin like silk and fire. I turn my head slightly, enough to meet his gaze. He’s looking at me like I’m the only thing worth seeing in the entire room.
My pulse races. I shouldn’t care. I shouldn’t want to smile. But I do.
I glance away, biting back a grin, but it’s useless—the corners of my lips curve up on their own. There’s something intoxicating about the way he says it. Not as flattery, but as fact. As though it’s already written in his world that I’m his queen and no one else can touch me.
I catch a few people staring—powerful men with their wives beside them, whispering behind champagne glasses—but I don’t care. For the first time tonight, I actually feel…steady.
Lev’s words echo in my head, anchoring me.
You’re a queen.
I lift my chin a little higher. I can do this. I can survive this world. And maybe, just maybe, I can rule it too. Beside him.
Several minutes later, as the celebration swells around us, I spot Noelle across the room, standing near one of the champagne towers, her hair catching the soft light. She waves when our eyes meet—small, quick, but full of warmth. Relief floods through me, and I can’t help the genuine smile that spreads across my face as I wave back.
For a second, it feels normal—like she’s the one constant thread between the life I used to have and the one I’ve somehow stepped into.
Then the music shifts. The crowd quiets. Mikhail announces the first dance, and all eyes turn toward us.
Lev stands, offering me his hand. There’s something commanding about the way he does it—confident, expectant, but patient. Like he already knows I’ll take it.
And I do.
His fingers curl around mine, steady and sure, guiding me down the short steps to the dance floor. The lights dim, and the soft, low hum of a classical piece fills the space. He pulls me close, one hand firm at my waist, the other holding my hand against his chest.
We begin to move—slow, graceful, almost rehearsed, though we’ve never practiced this.
For a moment, everything else fades. The murmurs. The stares. Even the fear. It’s just us, and the quiet rhythm of the music between us.
Lev lowers his head, his breath grazing my temple. “You were made for this,” he whispers.
I tilt my head up, meeting his gaze. “For dancing?”
“For being mine.”
My heart stutters, and before I can respond, he spins me gently, his hand never leaving my waist, his control absolute. When he draws me back in, I feel his heartbeat under my palm—steady, strong, dangerous.
And I realize that for all my resistance…I’ve never felt more alive than I do in his arms.
Soon, others begin to join the dance floor.
