“Dance with me.” Not quite a question. More like a prayer.
She took his hand. Let him lead her onto the floor as another song began. When he pulled her close—closer than Lilith had been, close enough to feel his heart pounding—she felt the tension thrumming through every line of his body.
“What did she say?”
“Nothing important.”
“Victor.”
He sighed, his breath stirring her hair. “She reminded me of Venice. Cairo. Marrakech. All the other times she’s tried to claim me.”
“And?”
“And I told her I wasn’t interested then, and I’m not interested now.” His hand tightened on her waist, pulling her impossibly closer. “I told her I’m yours.”
The pendant went suddenly, startlingly heavy, like a hand pressing against her heart.
Ava pulled back just enough to see his face. The gold flecks in his eyes were bright, almost glowing in the candlelight.
“Kiss me,” she said.
“What?”
“They’re all watching. The partners, Lilith, everyone.” She ran her hand up his chest, feeling his heart stutter beneath her palm. “Let’s give them something to see.”
He studied her face. Reading her. Making sure.
Then his hand came up to cup her cheek, thumb brushing her cheekbone, and he kissed her in front of everyone.
It wasn’t desperate or practiced. It was deliberate. Thorough. His lips moved against hers like he was proving a point, like he meant every second of it. His tongue traced the seam of her lips and she opened for him, letting him in, forgetting about the audience, the evaluation, everything except the heat of his mouth and the steadiness of his hands.
The world contracted to this single point of contact.
Someone cleared their throat loudly.
They broke apart, reluctantly, slowly, to find Grimm standing nearby, looking amused.
“Perhaps save something for the bedroom,” he said dryly.
Heat flooded Ava’s face, but Victor just smiled. Calm. Satisfied. “My apologies. I sometimes forget myself around her.”
“Young love.” Grimm’s eyes were shrewd, calculating. “Do try to remember you’re being evaluated.”
He walked away. The entire ballroom had gone quiet during their kiss, Ava realized. Conversations had stopped. Heads had turned. Now, slowly, the noise resumed, but charged differently, weighted with speculation and recalculation.
“That was…” Victor started.
“Necessary.”
“Effective, I’d say.” His thumb brushed her hip through the dress. “Though I’d be lying if I said it was entirely strategic.”
They stayed another hour, mingling, performing. But Victor’s touches became more natural: his thumb tracing circles on her back when she laughed, his arm tightening around her waist when Beleth made an unsettling joke about contracts. Ava leaned into him like she belonged there.
Because maybe she did.
The penthouse wasquiet when they returned.
The rose petals had been removed. Housekeeping, apparently, despite her protests. Replaced by chocolates on the pillows and champagne chilling in a silver bucket. Someone had dimmed the lights to something intimate.
