You think you can beat my father to this game?

“So, do you now believe whatever I'm here to prove?” 

Elena held his gaze, her pulse drumming in her ears. She wasn’t entirely wrong. She had come to prove, to him, to her father, to herself, that she wasn’t some pawn in their war.

She wanted him to believe her so badly. That way she could peacefully do her job without trying to please him or prove anything to him. 

But what unsettled her was the way Ethan looked at her.

Like he saw right through her.

Like he knew.

The music slowed, the last notes lingering in the air as they came to a stop, still locked in each other’s hold. Neither moved, neither spoke.

And then, just as the applause began around them, Ethan leaned in, his voice so low that only she could hear.

“No, I don't, Ms. Blake.”

Elena barely had a second to process his words before he released her, stepping back with that signature smirk of his.

Leaving her standing there, heart pounding, breath uneven.

And that was when she knew it would be hard to convince Ethan that she doesn't work for her father. 

And she had just become his target.

Elena needed air.

She slipped out of the ballroom, her heels clicking against the marble floor as she made her way toward the balcony. The cool night air kissed her heated skin, and she inhaled deeply, steadying herself.

She shouldn’t have let Ethan get under her skin like that.

It was just a dance. 

So why did it feel like something far more romantic?

The city stretched before her, lights flickering in the distance. She wrapped her arms around herself, her mind spinning with the weight of Ethan’s words, his touch, and the way he looked at her like he knew she was fighting something inside.

She hated it.

“Elena Blake.”

She stiffened. The voice was deep, edged with a quiet authority. Not Ethan.

Turning, she found herself face to face with a man she didn’t recognize. He was tall, dressed in a sharp black suit, his dark eyes unreadable. 

Her pulse kicked up.

“Who are you?” she asked.

The man smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “That’s not important.”

Every instinct in her body told her to be careful.

“You were watching me?” she said, keeping her voice level.

“Observing,” he corrected. “And now, I’m here to deliver a message.”

She tensed. “From who?”

The man tilted his head. “Your father.”

Vincent Blake’s reach was long. She had no doubt he had eyes on her, no matter where she went.

A chill ran down her spine. What if Ethan hears that? He would never believe her. 

She squared her shoulders, masking her unease. “I don’t work for my father,” she said loudly such that anyone around could hear. “You can tell him that.”

The man chuckled. “That’s the problem, Ms. Blake. He doesn’t believe you.”

Her stomach twisted.

“He told me to tell you to stop getting involved with Ethan Calloway,” the man continued. “Walk away now, before it’s too late.”

Her fingers curled into fists.

“I don’t need you, or my father telling me what to do.”

The man’s expression didn’t change. “This isn’t a request.”

The warning hung heavy in the air.

Elena forced herself to meet his gaze, refusing to let him see the flicker of uncertainty in her eyes.

“I don’t take orders from ghosts in the dark,” she said, stepping forward. “If my father has something to say to me, he can say it himself.”

The man studied her for a long moment before giving a slow nod.

“Suit yourself.”

And then, just like that, he turned and disappeared into the shadows, leaving Elena standing there, her heart pounding.

The night suddenly felt colder.

Vincent was watching her.

And he wasn’t the only one.

Behind her, she heard the soft creak of the glass door opening.

She didn’t have to turn to know who it was.

Ethan.

“I was wondering where you ran off to,” he said, his voice smooth as he stepped beside her.

Elena didn’t answer right away.

She was still processing and trying to decide what it meant that her father was sending people to warn her off Ethan, that Liam had confronted her earlier, and that no matter how much she tried to stay out of the war between them, she was already in too deep.

Ethan studied her.

“You look shaken.”

She scoffed, forcing a smirk. “I'm fine

He chuckled. “Of course not.”

The silence between them stretched, thick with something unspoken.

Ethan leaned in slightly, his breath warm against her skin. “Who was he?”

She knew it. He must have heard them. Elena hesitated. She could lie.

Tell him it was nothing.

But for some reason, she didn’t.

“Someone my father sent.”

Ethan’s expression darkened.

His jaw tensed, his usual smooth confidence replaced by something sharper.

Protective.

She wasn’t expecting that.

“What did he say?” Ethan asked, his voice low.

Elena met his gaze. “That I should walk away from you.”

A muscle ticked in his jaw. “And will you?”

She didn’t answer.

Because for the first time, she wasn’t sure.

“You want to keep me? Knowing well I'm your enemy’s daughter” she asked with sincerity in her low voice, meeting his gaze. 

Ethan took a step closer, his body just a breath away from hers.

“The choice is yours. Your father can't scare me,” he murmured.

Elena smiled, but it didn’t quite reach her eyes. “That makes two of us.”

For a moment, neither of them moved. The air between them was thick, and charged, like a storm on the verge of breaking.

And then Ethan reached for her hand.

His fingers brushed over hers, warm, steady.

“Come back inside,” he said softly. “

Elena hesitated.

Not because she was afraid.

But because she knew the moment she took his hand, she’d be crossing a line she couldn’t uncross.

She wasn’t sure she wanted to be caught in whatever games the men were playing. 

But she wasn’t sure she could walk away, either.

Slowly, deliberately, she slipped her fingers into his.

And together, they stepped back inside.

As Elena and Ethan stepped back inside, the world around them faded into a low buzz.

Every eye in the room seemed to land on them.

Some curious. Some calculating.

And some, like Vincent Blake’s spies lurking in the shadows, sharpening their gaze with suspicion.

Ethan kept Elena’s hand in his, his grip just firm enough to remind her she wasn’t alone in this. The warmth of his touch sent something unsteady through her

She couldn’t afford to feel this.

Not for him.

Not for anyone.

But the moment she tried to pull away, Ethan leaned in, his lips dangerously close to her ear.

“Stay,” he murmured, his breath teasing her skin. “Unless you want them to think you’re running scared.”

Elena stiffened, 

“Was he doing this to provoke her father? If he was, she can't afford to make him think otherwise of her” she thought. 

Her father’s spies were watching.

If she left now, it would look like a retreat. Like she was guilty.

She squared her shoulders, lifted her chin, and met Ethan’s challenge head-on.

“I'm not running away,” she whispered back.

A slow, wicked smirk played at his lips. “Good.”

And then, before she could second-guess her decision, he led her toward the dance floor again. 

The orchestra swelled into a slow, seductive melody.

Couples moved in synchronized elegance, gliding across the polished floor. But the moment Ethan pulled Elena into his arms, it was as if the entire room disappeared.

His hand settled at the small of her back, his other hand capturing hers with a confidence that sent shivers up her spine.

“You don't get tired of dancing, Mr Calloway” she questioned as she moved to the rhythm of the music.

Instead of responding, Ethan spun her effortlessly, their bodies moving in perfect rhythm.

Elena could feel the heat of his body through the thin fabric of her dress, the way his fingers pressed just a little firmer against her skin when she tried to put distance between them.

“Careful,” she said, her voice light but laced with warning. “People might think you’re enjoying this.”

Ethan chuckled, a deep, rich sound that sent something unsteady through her.

“Let them think what they want,” he said smoothly. 

Elena’s breath hitched.

For a moment, she almost forgot this was a game.

This was a dance wrapped in strategy, a move in the dangerous chess match between her father and Ethan Calloway.

But then she caught sight of the dark figures watching from the edge of the ballroom.

Her father’s men.

The reminder sent ice through her veins.

She wasn’t here to enjoy this.

She was here to prove she wasn’t her father’s pawn.

Elena tilted her head, letting her lips brush just slightly against Ethan’s cheek as she whispered, “You think you can beat my father to this game?”