Page 28 of Villainous Rise

“Deal with it,” he said dismissively, his attention already drifting to a group of influential donors. “Or go alone. I’m working the room.”

My patience snapped. “I’m your handler and I’m not supposed to leave your side because of your stunt with Ms. Sands, remember? I need a break. Now.”

For a moment, I thought he might actually refuse, but he must have realized how it would look if we started arguing in public.

“Fine,” he said through that camera-ready smile. “Five minutes.”

He placed his hand on my lower back again and guided me toward the terrace corridor.

“You’re making this more difficult than it needs to be,” he muttered as we moved through the crowd, stopping twice more for quick handshakes and greetings.

“I’m doing my job. Part of which is making sure you don’t overextend yourself.”

He snorted. “I don’t need a babysitter, Annie.”

“Alliance PR literally said that you do.”

“You know,” Valor said as we stepped outside, “you could try to look more impressed with me in public. It’s part of the deal.”

I bit back a sharp response. The quiet of the terrace beckoned, promising at least a temporary reprieve. The party hadn’t been going on long enough for anyone to really need air so it was deserted outside.

Thank god for small mercies.

“I specifically had my stylist send over a different red dress for tonight,” Valor continued, gesturing at my outfit with a dismissive flick of his wrist. “Its shade of red would have perfectly complemented my costume palette better than that red.”

I glanced down at my gown. An Alliance stylist had picked it out specifically because it matched the red of Valor’s stupid cape.

“I’m not your accessory.”

Valor laughed, the sound practiced and hollow. “Of course you are, Annie. The Alliance didn’t pair us because of your sparkling personality.” His eyes swept over me critically. “And that hair. That updo is too ordinary.”

I suppressed a growl. I thought the stylist had done a good job. I felt pretty with my hair styled this way.

“And the shoes,” he continued, his face twisted in genuine disappointment. “Kitten heels? Really? You’re already so much shorter than me. It throws off our entire aesthetic.”

I’d dealt with difficult Supers before, but Valor’s particular brand of narcissism was intolerable.

“Listen to me very carefully,” I said, keeping my voice low but sharp. “I am your handler for the evening, not your dress-up doll. The arrangement is that I appear as your girlfriend in public, not that I submit to your fashion critiques or ego trips.”

Valor’s face changed, looking too cold and predatory for a so-called Hero. “And that is exactly why you need to learn your place. You are stiff and cold. You look at me like I’m something you scraped off your shoe.”

“I have no reason to act any other way,” I snapped back. “Our relationship is a PR stunt. The contract does not require me to actually submit to you.”

His eyes narrowed, the gold around his emerald green eyes flashing. “The contract requires you to be mine for the cameras. Right now, you barely tolerate my presence.”

Valor moved and suddenly he was in my space. His hand clamped around the back of my neck and his thumb pressed into the pulse point at my throat as he dragged me flush against his chest.

“This is how you are to behave,” he murmured. His voice shifted to the tone he used to manipulate crowds with his power, concentrated solely on me. I could feel him trying to press into my mind and force compliance. “You look at me like I am a god. Like you are desperate for my attention.”

I kept my expression deliberately blank and fought the urge to flinch away from the suffocating warmth of his power. “Let go of me. Now.”

Valor glared down at me.

“You think you are untouchable because you work for Havoc,” he said, giving me a cruel smile as his fingers dug into my skin. “Out here in the dark, you are just a fragile little human. I could snap your wrist and tell the press a League member ambushed us. I could drag you back inside crying and the world would still think I was the Hero comforting you. They’d believe whatever I told them without question no matter what you said to them. All I would have to do is tell them not to listen to you and they wouldn’t hear a word you said.”

The terrace suddenly felt incredibly isolated, the distant hum of the party miles away.

“I said, let go.” Each word came out clipped. “Or I promise you, you will regret it.”