CHAPTER TEN: A DANCE WITH SHADOWS

Ivy

The dress they sent me was black satin backless, high-slit, sleeveless, a spider’s web stitched in luxury. It hugged my hips like a threat and shimmered like sin. It wasn’t me.

It was the version of me they wanted: polished, poised, untouchable.

A Blackwood.

Lucien didn’t say a word when he came to my door. He just stared. His eyes didn’t move from mine, but I felt them on every inch of exposed skin. The air between us felt thick with things unsaid, things undone.

“You clean up well,” he finally muttered. His jaw was taut, as if saying anything nice cost him blood.

I didn’t reply. I didn’t trust my voice not to tremble.

Because the way he looked at me tonight… it was a promise, or a warning. Maybe both.

The car ride was silent. Not the comfortable kind. The kind that bruises. He sat beside me, close but not touching, one leg crossed elegantly over the other, cufflinks glinting like tiny blades. I stared out the window, watching Manhattan blur past.

I used to love the city at night. Now it looked like a lie dressed in light.

Lucien broke the silence first. “Smile. They’ll be watching.”

I didn’t look at him. “Then let them see what they paid for.”

He let out a breath—almost a laugh. But it died too quickly.

The gala was held at the Blackwood Grand Hotel, one of Lucien’s many opulent trophies. Gold chandeliers rained light onto the marble floor. Diamonds clinked in glasses. Faces wore smiles like weapons.

Every eye turned when we entered.

And Lucien—the man who moved through boardrooms like a predator—placed a hand on my lower back. Possessive. Controlled.

I smiled like a good girl.

But inside, my stomach curled.

They whispered my name. They compared my neckline to my net worth. They measured me with their eyes and decided if I was worthy of his name.

Lucien leaned toward me during the introductions, lips brushing the shell of my ear. “Don’t wander. You might attract sharks.”

I tilted my head and whispered back, “And you’re the lifeguard?”

“No, Ivy,” he said coldly. “I’m the ocean.”

I tried to breathe. I tried to focus on the music, on the glint of chandeliers, on anything that wasn’t him.

But Lucien knew how to haunt a room even when he wasn’t speaking. He’d step away for a moment, then return with a glass of champagne and a colder gaze.

I’d been to high society events before—my father used to drag me along before things fell apart—but I had never felt this kind of spotlight.

Not until I was his.

Someone tapped my arm. “Mrs. Blackwood?”

I turned, trying not to flinch.

A tall man in a velvet blazer smiled at me. Charming, a little too polished. His dark hair curled around his ears. Eyes that gleamed like trouble.

“I’m Julian Hart,” he said, offering his hand. “Investor. Fan of hostile takeovers. And apparently, I’m your dance partner.”

Lucien appeared beside me instantly. “She’s not dancing.”

Julian didn’t blink. “Why not let her speak for herself?”

I looked between them, feeling suddenly like a bone between two wolves.

I smiled coolly. “A dance sounds lovely.”

Lucien’s jaw ticked, but he didn’t stop me.

Julian’s hand slid around my waist as he led me onto the floor.

“You like poking bears?” I asked him.

“Only the ones who need to be reminded they’re not gods,” he said, spinning me gently. “You don’t seem like the kind of girl who likes a leash.”

I laughed softly. “You know nothing about me.”

He lowered his voice. “I know you didn’t marry Lucien for love.”

I stiffened.

Julian smirked. “That’s not a judgment. Just an observation.”

The music shifted. So did the air.

And then I felt him.

Lucien stood at the edge of the floor, eyes dark with something unspoken. His jaw was set. His fists, clenched.

“I think I’ve angered your keeper,” Julian murmured.

“He’s not my keeper.”

“No,” he said, gaze flicking toward Lucien. “But he looks like the kind of man who cages what he can’t control.”

The song ended.

Lucien was already walking toward us.

“You’ve made your point,” he said to Julian, voice like cut ice.

Julian bowed slightly. “Of course. But I’m not the one who’s losing her.”

Lucien didn’t respond. He just reached for me. Not a request. A command.

He took my hand and led me off the floor, through a side door, down a quiet corridor. The sound of violins faded behind us.

He didn’t speak until the hallway was empty.

“What were you thinking?”

I yanked my hand away. “That I could breathe for five minutes.”

His eyes burned into me. “You don’t get to play games with men like Julian Hart. He’s not harmless.”

“And you are?” I shot back. “Tell me, Lucien—do you get jealous or just territorial?”

He stepped closer. “I own what I pay for.”

I slapped him.

The sound cracked in the hallway.

For a second, everything stilled.

Lucien’s face turned slowly back to me. No rage. No surprise. Just… stillness.

“You’re not afraid of me,” he said.

I lifted my chin. “Not yet.”

He stepped forward, eyes locked on mine. “Then let me teach you why you should be.”

The hallway was cold. He pressed me against the wall with his gaze, not his hands, and yet I couldn’t move.

“Ivy,” he said, voice low, “you think you hate me now?”

I swallowed. “Yes.”

“Good.” He leaned in. “Because hate keeps you alive in my world.”

And then he brushed a knuckle down my cheek.

A touch. Barely there. And yet it burned.

I turned my face away. “What happened to you, Lucien?”

He didn’t answer.

Just stepped back. And walked away.

I didn’t return to the ballroom. I found a shadowed stairwell and sat there, legs curled beneath my dress, heels kicked off.

My heart was pounding. Not just from anger. Not just from fear.

From want.

God help me.

I wanted to understand the storm that lived in that man’s chest.

I wanted to survive it.

I wanted… to be the reason it broke.

But as I sat there, alone in that echoing stairwell, I heard something that didn’t belong.

A voice.

Familiar.

Through the vents.

“…She doesn’t suspect anything. But the wedding was just step one.”

Lucien.

My blood turned to ice.

Another voice answered, low and sharp. “You know the terms, Blackwood. One wrong move, and she dies.”

The air left my lungs.

I pressed my hand to my mouth.

And I knew—whatever game I thought I was playing…

I was already losing.