“No.”
The single word dared Trystan to push further. The rim around Trystan’s blue eyes flickered gold.
My heart leapt into my throat. Wolves didn’t flash gold unless they were close to losing control.
This was going from bad to worse.
Then the lights went out.
My hand shot out and found Rocco’s arm. His fingers closed over mine—warm, steady, instant.
A collective murmur rippled through the crowd before a single spotlight flared to life, focusing on Julienne standing in the middle of the dance floor. She looked absolutely stunning—diamonds glittering like stars against her crimson gown, her smile radiant as she gazed up at her husband on the stage. She looked every inch a queen.
And my boss. And my friend.
“A toast to my beautiful wife.” Costin’s voice carried across the silent ballroom, thick with emotion. “She’s the one who turned me from a monster into the man I am today.” He raised his champagne glass, the crystal catching the light. “To Julienne.”
“To Julienne,” I repeated with everyone else, lifting my glass.
The crowd drank. The lights came back up. Applause filled the room.
I turned to say something to Rocco?—
But he had vanished.
One second his hand had been wrapped around mine, warm and steady. The next—gone. Like I’d imagined the whole thing. I blinked, looking around. Trystan still stood there, watching me with those sharp blue eyes.
“Looking for someone?” he asked, one eyebrow raised.
My stomach dropped. I scanned the crowd frantically, searching for Rocco’s dark hair, his broad shoulders.
He was gone.
Chapter Eleven
Rocco
Asshole.
That’s what I was. A goddamn asshole. All because of fucking Angelo Santi.
I leaned against the closed door at the end of the hallway, my chest tight. The muffled sound of applause drifted from the ballroom behind me. The toast. I’d slipped out during the toast, when the lights were down and everyone’s attention was on Julienne.
I stole the keys out of Selena’s purse.
I was breaking her heart. Again.
But it was better this way. She needed to move on. Find someone else. Someone who wasn’t a disaster wrapped in a tuxedo. Someone who wouldn’t use her and leave her wondering what the hell happened.
Except the thought of her being with anyone else made my fangs lengthen, pressing against my lower lip.
She’s not yours, I reminded myself.You made sure of that.
I shoved off the outside door. Evening air rushed over me, cool against my skin. The party noise faded behind me as I headed for Iris Hall, where Julienne Piaget’s office was located.
I slipped between the magnolia trees, moving silently through the manicured grounds of Red Rose Academy. I’d walked these grounds just a few years ago when I was a prince. Back when my future stretched out before me, full of promise. Back when I still believed I deserved good things.
Now I was just a thief in a borrowed tuxedo.
