Another turn. Applause somewhere behind us as another couple joins the floor.
“Spring,” he presses. “It gives us time to formalize contracts.”
“There are no contracts,” I say softly.
“There are always contracts.”
I let my gaze drift briefly past his shoulder.
Riot hasn’t moved, he stands at the edge of the floor now, no longer seated, watching us with an intensity that makes my pulse steady instead of spike. Konstantin follows my line of sight and then looks back at me. “You see?” he murmurs. “This is precisely why clarity is required.”
“Clarity?” I ask.
“Yes. So there is no confusion about where you belong.”
The music slows into its final refrain. I meet his eyes fully now, letting the smile fall away just enough for him to see the truth beneath it. “I do not belong to a season,” I say quietly. “And I do not belong to you.”
The song ends and applause rises. I step back before he can pull me closer again. The music swells into applause as the dance ends, but Konstantin does not release me. His fingers tighten around my arm. “Excuse us,” he says smoothly to no one in particular, already steering me off the floor. His grip is firm enough that I have to match his pace to avoid stumbling. To anyone watching, it looks urgent. Intimate. A couple in need of privacy. He does not stop until we reach a shadowed alcove just beyond the main ballroom, half-hidden by a marble column and heavy velvet drapery. The music is still audible, but muted.
The second we are out of sight lines, his composure fractures. “Drop the fucking act,” he snaps in hushed, furious tones.
I pull my arm free. “What act?” I ask evenly.
He steps closer. “The defiance. The glances. The silent provocations.”
“I am not provoking you.”
“You are undermining me.” He rakes a hand through his hair, the prince slipping, the demon stepping forward. “We are getting married in March,” he says flatly. “It will be announced tonight. You will stand beside me and smile. You will be the perfect bride. You will do exactly what you were raised to do.”
“No.” The word lands between us.
His eyes flash. “You do not get to say no.”
“I just did.”
His jaw tightens, and in one sharp motion he backs me against the wall. Marble presses cold against my spine. His hand slams against the wall beside my face. “You will marry me,” he says, voice low and shaking with contained fury. “The alliance will be forged.” I hold his gaze. “Or I will kill your father.”
For half a second, there is silence. Then I laugh. It slips out before I can stop it. “You really think you could get to him?” I ask.
His face darkens. He leans in close, so close I can feel the heat of his breath against my skin. “I got to you,” he murmurs.
THIRTEEN
RIOT
I seeit before anyone else does. From across the dance floor it looks smooth, controlled, almost intimate. A man guiding his fiancée somewhere private. But I’ve been watching his hands all night, watching the way he touches her like he’s staking a claim and the way she shifts just enough to avoid him without making a scene. When his grip tightens on her arm and he steers her off the floor without asking, something in my chest locks hard.
Mason says my name low from the table, a warning, but I’m already moving. I don’t rush. I don’t draw eyes. I cut through the edge of the room while the orchestra swells and applause covers the shift. They disappear behind a column near the side corridor. I stop just before the alcove and listen in to their conversation.
“I got to you,” he tells her.
That’s it, I’m tired of letting him breathe the same air as her. I step around the column and find him braced against the wall with one hand beside her head, body crowding hers. She’s backed against marble but she’s not shrinking. She’s glaring up at him like she’d rather burn the place down than bend. Hedoesn’t see me until I grab him. I fist his lapels and rip him back hard enough that the fabric strains. He slams into the opposite wall with a crack that echoes down the corridor.
“What the hell—” he starts.
I drive him back again, forearm across his chest. “You don’t put your hands on her,” I say, my voice low and even.
He shoves against me. “This is between me and my fiancée.”
