The words landed between us calm and steady, unafraid.
Something dark and approving flickered across his face.
Good.
“Tonight isn’t about you proving devotion,” he said.“It’s about whether you can stand beside me without flinching.”
Then he turned and left the room.I took a few moments to reframe my composure before stepping back into the swirling crowd, my pulse racing, my heart aching.
Bane reappeared like a shadow that had decided to test the light.
“Still standing?”he asked lightly, glass of champagne in hand, eyes sharp with curiosity.“Impressive.”
I didn’t turn toward him right away.I took a breath and let the room settle around me.
Then I faced him fully.
“Yes,” I said.“I am.”
His brow lifted, amused.“Creed has a way of...leaving people rattled.”
“I’m not rattled,” I replied.“I’m discerning.”
That earned me a slow smile.“You keep saying things like that.It makes a man wonder.”
I held his gaze.Didn’t soften.Didn’t retreat.
“Wonder what?”
“How much of this is choice,” he said, gesturing vaguely toward my collar, the room, the evening,“and how much is pressure?”
There it was.
The offer was disguised as concern.
I stepped closer.Claimed my space.
“You mistake discipline for coercion,” I said calmly.“That’s your blind spot.”
His smile faltered, just a fraction.
“You don’t have to work this hard,” he said.“Some men don’t require submission to feel powerful.”
“And some men,” I replied evenly, “mistake access for interest.”
That landed.
Bane studied me now, not predatory, but curious.He recalculated.
“I could make this easier,” he said.“No expectations.No tests.”
I nodded once.“I know.”
A pause.
“And that’s exactly why I wouldn’t choose you.”
His jaw tightened.“Because of Creed?”
