It wasn’t reassurance.It was selection.
“And if I wanted Veronica,” he added, his voice low and controlled, “you wouldn’t be guessing.”
I didn’t soften.
And neither did he.
He leaned in again, not touching this time, close enough that I could feel the heat of him, the weight of his restraint pressing heavier than his hands ever had.
“You think challenging me gives you leverage,” he murmured.“It doesn’t.”
“I think standing my ground earns me respect,” I replied.
A beat passed.Then another.
The corner of his mouth tipped with recognition.
“You’re learning,” he said.“But not here.”
Voices drifted down the corridor—laughter, footsteps, the echo of a door opening somewhere nearby.
The world rushed back in.
Creed glanced once toward the sound, then back to me.His hand lifted to straighten the collar at my throat, precise, intimate, controlled.
“Tonight,” he continued, “you walk at my side.You observe.You listen.You keep your composure.”
The hallway swallowed the end of the tension as we stepped back toward the ballroom, the music swelling to meet us like nothing had happened.
I stood motionless, fingering the collar as I watched Creed retreat to greet a prestigious benefactor, his absence leaving a hollow ache in my chest.My skin still burned where his hands had held me, where his voice had wrapped around me like silk and steel.
This wasn’t forgiveness.It was a test.
He hadn’t brought me here to make me feel small.
He’d brought me here to see whether I could hold my ground without his hand at my back.
Before I could sink further into my spiraling thoughts, a voice cut through the haze.
“Peyton, right?”
I turned to find Bane beside me, close but not touching.Creed’s friend from the theatre, his opposite in every way.
Where Creed was gravity, Bane was silk and shadow, charm sharpened into something that watched instead of lunged.His tuxedo was flawless.His smile easy.His eyes alert and calculating.
“Yes,” I replied, forcing a polite smile.“Bane, isn’t it?”
“The one and only.”He inclined his head slightly, amusement flickering in his expression.“We met at the theatre, though I doubt I left much of an impression.Creed tends to overshadow everyone in the room, doesn’t he?”
His words held a teasing edge, but there was something beneath them, something I couldn’t quite name.
“Where’s your girlfriend?”I asked, glancing over his shoulder.
He gave a dramatic sigh.“That relationship has sailed its last voyage.”
“I’m sorry.”
Bane shrugged.“I’m terrible at relationships.Creed is too,” he added lightly.“And yet, here you are.”His gaze flicked to the collar.“Lovely choice.”
