“Let’s go inside and dance,” she says, her deep blue eyes big like a doe’s.
I nod and she tugs me through the door. Inside it’s smoky. Bodies are pressed close together.
No one notices us, and I like that.
We wind through the crowd onto the dance floor. Chelsea wraps her arms around my neck, and I grab her waist.
“When we first met, I thought you were so dangerous, so sexy,” she admits.
“And I thought I’d met a flower in a sea of darkness.”
She smirks. “I’m not a flower. I have claws.”
I tip my head back and laugh. When my gaze settles back on her, something in my chest shifts. There is no one on this planet who makes me feel like she does. No one who accepts all of me without cringing at the dark parts.
No one but this beautiful thorny rose.
We dance for a few minutes, and when the song changes, she stiffens.
“What?”
Chelsea swallows and nods to the right. A few couples away is a man and woman kissing and dancing.
“Do you know them?”
“Him,” she murmurs. “My uncle.”
“And that’s not his wife.” She shakes her head. “What should we do?” She opens her mouth. Nothing comes out and my heart cracks. “I’ll say something.”
She grabs my cuff. “No, don’t.”
“Chelsea…” She’s looking away, and I hook a finger under her chin and gently turn her face until she’s looking at me. “He’s hurting your family. The woman he’s with may not even know.”
She nods slightly.
“I’m not telling you to make a scene. But if you’d like to leave, we can.”
The hurt in her face breaks my heart. I wrap my arm around her and guide her out of the bar, back outside into the cleansing air. Our bodyguards follow, keeping a discreet distance.
We walk in silence for a few minutes until she murmurs, “That’s why I didn’t want to get married. My aunt married Charlie for the same reason we all have to marry—because the magic dies without us, and her marriage is a sham. I never wanted that.”
Her voice cracks on the last word.
I stop walking and turn to face her. "Look at me."
She does, tears gathering in her eyes.
"This"—I gesture between us—"is not that. Will never be that."
"I know," she whispers. "But seeing him… It just reminded me how easily love can turn into obligation."
Her words settle between us, the only sound being that of footsteps on the cobble streets.
I take her hand. “You couldn’t pay me to have a sham marriage with you.”
She smirks and wraps her arm around my waist. “More like—you couldn’t get rid of me if you tried.”
“Why would I get rid of you? I want babies with you.”
