Two Or Five

JANEVERA’S POV

“I’m sorry for the embarrassment my nephew caused you,” Caesar murmured, his lips brushing the shell of my ear as he guided me through the crowd towards the dance floor. His voice was low yet intimate. The heat of his breath sent a shiver racing down my spine.

I let him lead, my fingers resting lightly in his, his other hand firm and possessive on the curve of my waist. The moment we stepped onto the polished floor, the string quartet melted into a slow, sensual melody. We began to move, bodies close, steps unhurried, perfectly in sync.

But even as we danced, I could feel Caesar’s mind drifting elsewhere. His gaze occasionally flicked towards the mezzanine, calculating. I knew exactly what he was thinking: how the hell could Neven even afford this obscene display? The two-million-dollar venue, the celebrities, and the army of paparazzi outside. It didn’t add up for a man who burnt through money like cheap cologne.

‘Maybe Olivia funded it,’ I thought, a bitter little smile tugging at my lips. Or maybe I’m overthinking. Maybe, for once, he actually tried to impress someone he claims to love.

“Are you okay?” Caesar asked softly, pulling me back to the present. His thumb traced a slow circle against my waist, grounding me.

“Yeah,” I whispered, tilting my head to meet his eyes. A flush crept up my neck. “Just thinking about how boldly I grabbed you back there.”

His mouth curved into a dark, knowing smirk. Without warning, he spun me once, twice, before pulling me back against him. My back pressed flush to his chest, his body solid and warm behind me. He folded my arms across my own chest, trapping them gently under his as he rocked us slowly to the music, hips moving in a rhythm far more intimate than the dance required.

The position was sinful. Public enough to seem romantic. Private enough to feel obscene.

“You feel that?” he murmured, his voice rough against my ear.

Oh God, I did.

His cock was rock-hard, thick and insistent, pressing firmly against the curve of my ass through the thin fabric of my dress. The heat of him, the unmistakable size, the way it throbbed with every subtle roll of his hips, it was impossible to ignore. My touch from earlier had clearly awakened something primal in him, and now he was letting me feel every inch of the consequences.

I blushed furiously, heat flooding my cheeks and spreading lower. My breath hitched as he rocked again, deliberately grinding that impressive hardness against me in time with the music. A soft, needy sound almost escaped my throat.

“Caesar…” I breathed, half protest, half plea. My nipples tightened beneath the silk of my dress, aching against the fabric, while liquid heat pooled between my thighs with every roll of his hips.

He chuckled slowly, the rich sound vibrating through his chest into my back. “You woke the beast, sweetheart. Rubbing me like that in front of everyone… bold little thing.” His lips grazed the sensitive skin of my neck, sending sparks racing down my spine. “Now you get to feel exactly what you did to me.”

I bit my lip hard, fighting the filthy urge to arch back and grind against the thick, rigid length of his cock pressing insistently into the curve of my ass. The entire ballroom was still watching us, whispers slithering through the air, camera flashes popping like fireworks but all I could focus on was him. The powerful cage of his body, the heat of his hardness, the way he owned me so effortlessly in front of the man who once claimed to own me.

The music swelled. I was seconds from losing myself completely when a sharp, familiar voice cut through the haze.

“Caesar. A word.”

Olivia appeared at the edge of the dance floor, champagne flute in hand, her smile tight and venomous. Her eyes flicked between us with barely concealed disgust.

Caesar didn’t stop moving. His arm stayed locked around me, hips still rocking us slowly to the sensual rhythm. “I’m busy with her,” he said coolly, not even sparing Olivia a glance. “Whatever you want can wait.”

Olivia’s expression twisted. Before I could react, she stepped closer, too close and “accidentally” jostled her glass. Cold champagne splashed across the front of my dress, soaking the silk over my breasts and dripping down my stomach in icy rivulets.

“Oh my God,” she gasped, fake horror dripping from every syllable. “I’m so sorry, Jane. How clumsy of me. You should really clean that up before it ruins the fabric.”

The liquid clung to me, making the dress translucent in places. Caesar’s jaw tightened, his protective grip on me firming.

“I’ll go with you,” he said immediately, already turning us.

“No need,” I cut in smoothly, placing a calming hand on Caesar’s chest. My voice stayed light, even sweet, though my dress clung cold and damp to my skin. “Just talk to her, Caesar. I’ll be quick.”

I gave him one last reassuring look, letting my fingers linger a second longer than necessary, before slipping from the warm circle of his arms. The cool air kissed the champagne-soaked silk over my breasts, making the fabric cling obscenely. I kept my chin high as I walked away, feeling the weight of hundreds of curious, hungry eyes on my back.

The hallway to the private restrooms was quieter and dimmer, a blessed escape from the glittering chaos. But I wasn’t alone for long.

I felt him before I saw him, that familiar, suffocating presence. When I glanced over my shoulder, there he was. Neven. Stalking after me like a man possessed.

‘This was planned,’ I thought, with irritation and something sharper twisting in my chest.

“Stop following me,” I said firmly, not slowing down.

He didn’t stop. His footsteps echoed closer. I wonder what he wanted from me since he already has Olivia.

“You look so damn good tonight,” he murmured, his voice thick with whisky and desperation. “Irresistible. I had to try my luck… to win you back. Whatever it takes, Jane. Even if it’s by force.”

I didn’t make it far.

His strong hand suddenly clamped around my wrist, yanking me sideways into a shadowed alcove just before the bathroom door. My back hit the wall with a soft thud. Neven caged me in instantly one arm braced besides my head, his body looming too close and too hot. The scent of his cologne mixed with whisky wrapped around me like a toxic memory.

“Olivia’s probably seducing him right now,” he snarled, low and ugly with jealousy. “By the time you fix your dress, she’ll have her hands all over him. And there’s nothing you can do about it.”

I met his wild eyes without flinching, even as my pulse hammered. “I don’t care.” The lie tasted sweet.

His face darkened, rage flashing hot. “You’re not tryna date my uncle, right? Or going on actual dates with him? Ugh…. he’s a player, Jane. You know that.”

“And you think you’re better than him?” I shot back.

Something ugly twisted in his expression. He snapped my face to the side with a rough grip on my jaw. I pushed hard against his chest, trying to shove him away, but he was stronger, fuelled by alcohol and fury.

“Hey, don’t be rude,” he growled, slamming me back against the wall. His body pinned mine, and he leant in, trying to capture my mouth in a bruising kiss.

I turned my head at the last second, his lips grazing my cheek instead.

“At least I don’t fuck around and dump women like he does,” Neven hissed against my skin. “With time, he’ll do the same to you. You’ll see.”

It wasn’t supposed to hurt but it did, a sharp, unexpected sting deep in my chest. ‘Could it be that I actually care about his uncle?’

“What would people say if they found out you’re dating my uncle?” Neven continued, voice venomous, his breath hot against my ear. “They’ll probably call you a gold-digging whore. Is that what you want?”

His fingers dug harder into my jaw, possessive and cruel, as the distant swell of the waltz drifted mockingly down the hallway.

“Stop,” I gasped, pain flaring hot where his fingers bruised my jaw. “Neven, you’re hurting me.” But he didn’t let go. If anything, his grip tightened, eyes blazing with possessive madness as he pressed his body harder into mine, pinning me against the cold wall like he could physically force me back into being his.

And for one terrifying heartbeat, I wondered if Caesar would come looking… or if some dark, treacherous part of me even wanted him to.

“It’s true,” Neven snarled, his breath hot and whisky-sour against my face. “You’re a fucking whore. You’d stoop this low just to charm my uncle? Spread your legs for him like some desperate revenge plot?”

I laughed bitterly, even through the ache in my jaw. “Yes. With my beauty that you never seemed to notice when I was yours.”

His expression fractured, something ugly and desperate cracking through the rage. “You’re doing this just to get back at me, right?” His voice dropped, delusional, clinging to a fantasy only he could see. “Fine. How about this? I’ll cut off the engagement tonight. Right now. We can come back together, the way it was always supposed to be.”

For a moment, the bruising grip on my jaw loosened. His hand released my face, and his expression softened into something almost tender, like the violence from seconds ago had never happened. He reached up with that same hand, fingers trembling slightly as he tried to brush a loose strand of hair from my cheek in a gesture that might have been sweet once.

I slapped his hand away so hard the sound cracked through the hallway like a whip.

“You must be insane,” I hissed, venom dripping from every word. “If you think I’m doing any of this just to get back to you… when I already have your uncle. And he has me in ways you never could. In ways you never even dreamed of.”

Neven’s face twisted into jealousy, fury, and wounded pride warring across his features. “You know if you don’t want me running straight back to Olivia, you’d better—”

“Fuck off,” I snapped, shoving at his chest with every ounce of strength I possessed. He barely budged, but the words hit harder than my hands ever could. “So shameless. It’s your engagement night and you’re still out here trying to force yourself on me like some pathetic, desperate boy.”

Neven’s eyes darkened with something unhinged, something dangerous. His breathing grew ragged as obsession bled through every word. “You’re mine, Jane,” he growled, voice low and trembling with barely contained madness. “I’d rather kill you than let him have you. I’d rather burn everything down than watch you walk around with his mark on your skin.”

Before I could draw another breath, he crashed forward like a man drowning. His hands grabbed at me roughly, fingers digging into my waist and jaw as his mouth slammed toward mine in a brutal, possessive attempt to claim what he’d already lost forever.

I turned my head at the last second. His lips crashed hot and angry against my cheek instead, teeth scraping skin as he tried again. His body pinned me harder against the cold wall, crushing me, one hand already sliding down, forcing its way under the hem of my dress, fingers greedily climbing up my thigh toward my panties.

I shoved at his shoulders, twisting, trying to push him off me. “Neven—stop!” But even as panic and disgust flooded my veins, a darker, more treacherous thought slipped through my mind: What if Caesar finds us like this?

Would he understand I was fighting? Or would he see me pinned against the wall by my ex, dress riding up, and think I’d run back to the man I used to belong to?

The possibility sent a chill racing down my spine.

And the worst part?

A small, twisted piece of me almost wanted him to walk in right now, just to see what Caesar Dominic would do when someone tried to take what he’d already claimed.