One couple at first—then another—and within moments, the air fills with motion and soft laughter. The tension eases as people spin and sway around us, and the spotlight that once felt like a noose finally loosens.
Lev’s grip softens, though his hand never leaves my waist. “See?” he murmurs, voice low enough that only I can hear. “You’re not the only one on display now.”
I smile faintly, grateful for the reprieve. “Good. I was starting to feel like the entertainment.”
He chuckles, deep and quiet, and leans down just enough for his lips to brush the edge of my ear. “You still are.”
I roll my eyes, but the sound that escapes me is closer to a laugh than I’d like to admit. Around us, the orchestra swells, and the chandelier lights scatter gold across the polished floor.
Noelle dances nearby with Niko, and when she catches my gaze again, she grins, mouthing something that looks likeyou’ve got this.
And for the first time all day, I actually believe her.
Lev twirls me once more, his hand steady and sure, and when he draws me back in, our movements fall perfectly in sync.
I’m about to tease him—something flirty and light, the kind of thing that would make that dangerous smirk of his appear—when Mikhail suddenly materializes beside us. His expression kills the music in my chest.
“Lev,” he says quietly, voice sharp beneath the polite tone. “You need to come with me.”
Lev’s body goes rigid. I feel it instantly through his hand on my back. His eyes narrow. “Can’t you see I’m dancing with my wife?”
Mikhail doesn’t flinch. “I’m sorry. It’s urgent.”
For a second, the space between them crackles with unspoken words, a tension that doesn’t belong at a wedding reception. I can see the muscle ticking in Lev’s jaw, the way his control strains against whatever instinct is telling him to stay.
I touch his chest lightly, forcing a small smile. “It’s okay,” I say. “Go.”
He glances down at me, and though he tries to hide it, there’s that edge of worry again. “Don’t stray too far from me.”
“I won’t.” I make my tone easy, teasing, even though I can tell he’s not in the mood. “I’ll be at the bar. Getting a drink—or two.”
“Just one. Don’t drink too much.”
“I won’t.”
He nods stiffly, presses a fleeting kiss to my temple, and follows Mikhail out of my sight.
The moment they’re gone, the music seems louder, the lights too bright. I exhale, straighten my shoulders, and make my way toward the bar—heels clicking against the marble, heart oddly restless in my chest.
At the bar, I order a glass of champagne—something light to calm the noise still buzzing in my head. The bartender nods and moves off, leaving me alone for a moment amid the clinking glasses and murmured conversations.
I rest my hand on the counter, exhaling slowly, when a soft, lilting voice cuts through the sound around me.
“Hi Sasha,” she says.
I turn, and my breath catches for just a second. The woman standing beside me is striking—sleek black hair that falls straight down her back, flawless porcelain skin, and a confidence that seems effortless. Her lips are painted a muted rose, and her almond-shaped eyes glimmer with polite curiosity.
She extends a delicate hand, her smile both warm and assessing. “Elara Chang,” she says smoothly. “Congratulations on your wedding. I’ve been admiring your dress all evening. It’s absolutely breathtaking—I had to come over and tell you in person.”
Her tone is friendly, and being a good judge of people, I find myself relaxing at her smile.
I manage a gracious smile and take her hand. “Thank you,” I say, putting just enough lightness into my voice. “You’re very kind. Your dress is splendid as well.”
Elara’s smile widens, catlike. “I swear,” she says, glancing toward the sprawling flower arch across the room, “the Rusnaks must’ve bought out every rose in Europe for this.”
I laugh before I can stop myself. “I mentioned one time that I like roses. Just one time.”
Elara leans closer, lowering her voice conspiratorially. “Men like your husband don’t do simple.”
