CHAPTER FOUR-- The Reception.  

By the time I entered the ballroom later that evening, I had already mapped four exits, noted the camera placements, and memorized the security rotation in the west wing hall.

And yet, none of that steadied the pounding in my ribs when every face in the room turned toward me.

The emerald dress clung to my body like a second skin. High neckline, open back, a slit that traced up my thigh like a whisper. It was elegant but dangerous, designed to suggest everything while revealing very little.

Exactly what I needed to be.

Darius hadn’t come to collect me from the room. There’d been no knock, and no escort. He’d simply sent a note.

Be on time. Don’t forget to wear the green dress. Let them see you.

And I let them.

Heads turned. Conversations paused. Even the pianist fumbled a chord as I stepped onto the marble floor beneath the gilded chandelier. There were at least a hundred guests; they comprised of diplomats, tycoons, foreign ministers, and those elusive figures with no official titles but far too much power. Each person in this room was either a puppet master or a weapon.

And now, I was supposed to be both.

I moved like the bride I was pretending to be- that I’d been trained to pretend to be; gracious, poised, glowing. My heels didn’t falter. My smile never cracked.

“Ah, the new Lady Vale.” A woman’s voice said, sharp and as chilled as wine.

I turned to face Marissa Vale, Darius’ cousin. She was tall, with ice-blonde hair, and draped in silver that gleamed like moonlight on a blade. She was beautiful in the way poison often is.

“I was hoping we’d meet tonight,” she purred. “Darius has never been one for sentiment. I was beginning to think you were imaginary.”

 I hadn’t noted her presence at the wedding ceremony. I was becoming convinced that she’d made herself scarce as a slight. Either to myself or to her cousin. I was sure I’d figure out sooner rather than later.

I smiled. “I assure you I’m quite real.”

“Are you?” She tilted her head, eyes flicking over me with deliberate slowness. “You seem... perfectly made.”

The pause wasn’t accidental.

“Perfection is a dangerous illusion,” I replied smoothly. “But illusions serve their purpose.”

Marissa's smile didn’t reach her eyes. “I imagine your father taught you that.”

“He taught me many things.”

Her lashes lowered. “Pity he isn’t here to see how beautifully you’ve bloomed.”

A veiled jab wrapped in politeness.

Before I could respond, a new voice cut through the air like velvet and gravel.

“Marissa.”

Darius.

He emerged from the cluster of men behind the bar, dressed in black-on-black, no tie, jacket open just enough to show his control wasn’t for show- it was who he was.

He didn’t touch me. He didn’t smile. But his eyes didn’t leave mine.

“Cousin,” he said evenly. “Is my wife boring you already?”

Marissa turned smoothly toward him. “Not at all. She’s delightful. I was just telling her how... perfect she seems.”

Darius’ gaze sharpened. “That’s because she is.”

He took my hand then, fingers closing around mine like a claim. Or a challenge.

Marissa nodded once, her smile tightening. “Then I suppose we’re all lucky, aren’t we?”

She drifted away into the crowd, the scent of white lilac trailing behind her like smoke.

“She doesn’t seem to like me,” I murmured under my breath.

“I know,” Darius said. “She doesn’t like anyone. Other than herself, that is.”

His thumb grazed the inside of my wrist before he let go. “Come. There are introductions to make.”

The next hour was a blur of faces, handshakes, and conversations laced with hidden meanings. I met ambassadors, art dealers, a woman who’d once negotiated arms contracts with three nations in a single evening. They all smiled at me with careful precision. Some flirted. Some watched. A few tried to test the limits of my intelligence.

I passed them all.

But through the throng of it, I never stopped scanning. Not the room, nor the servers, neither the way Darius moved in and out of conversations like smoke through cracks. He was the axis of the room. People revolved around him, feared him, desired something from him. But no one touched him unless he allowed it.

He was a king dressed like a man. And I was the queen brought in to calm the court. Or distract it. 

As I passed near the north wall, I caught sight of Lucian. His arms were folded, expression unreadable. He nodded once. Respectful, but distant. I was almost beginning to believe they had accepted me until I felt a hand at my back.

Darius.

He said nothing. Just guided me with light pressure toward the dance floor. The music had shifted to something slow, dark; something that pulsed under the skin.

I turned toward him. “I wasn’t told there would be dancing.”

“I wasn’t told you’d look so absolutely ravishing,” he murmured, one hand sliding around my waist. “And yet, here we are.”

He took my hand in his, guiding me into the rhythm. His other rested just above the curve of my hip, not indecent- but not proper either. We moved slowly, deliberately, surrounded by other couples who blurred into shadows.

“You’re performing,” I said, voice low.

“Of course. Everyone is.”

“And what are you trying to say with this?”

He leaned in, lips brushing the shell of my ear. “That you’re mine.”

My breath caught. “Is that what you want them to believe?”

His hand tightened slightly. “Is it a lie?”

I didn’t answer. Because I wasn’t sure anymore where the lies ended.

His scent was expensive and subtle- cedar-wood, something smoky underneath. It was the kind of cologne worn by men who didn’t need to impress. Just warn.

“I didn’t expect you to dance,” I admitted.

“I didn’t expect you to learn the floor plan in twenty minutes.”

My pulse stilled.

He smiled against my temple. “The cameras in the west corridor. The servant exit near the kitchens. The blind spot near the garden doors. You’re efficient.”

“You’re watching me.”

“I always watch what’s mine.”

I tried to step back, but he held me just a moment longer than necessary.

“I don’t believe you’re the girl you claim to be,” he said quietly.

My chest tightened.

“Then why marry me?”

“Because I don’t care.”

That stunned me more than if he’d said he knew everything. He turned me in a slow circle, fingers never slipping.

“Whatever game you’re playing,” he said, “play it well. But know this: I’m not the fool you think I am. If you betray me, it won’t be the law you answer to. It’ll be me.”

“And if I don’t betray you?” I whispered.

“Then I’ll protect you from everything- including yourself.”

The song ended. He stepped back, just enough for the world to return to its proper place. The sounds of the room grew louder as the crowd closed in. Darius took a drink from a passing tray, handed it to me, and disappeared into another conversation without looking back. I stared down at the wine, hand trembling slightly.

Not from fear.

From confusion.

Because he wasn’t playing the game the way I expected.

And that made him dangerous in ways I hadn’t prepared for.