Chapter 9 Dangerous Games

The knock came again. Sharper this time.

I didn't answer right away. I just stared at the woman I'd drawn, the one whose face I'd left in shadows, as if I could climb into her skin and disappear.

The door creaked open slowly. Same maid. But this time, her face was tense, pale, eyes flickering down the hallway behind her before meeting mine.

"Miss Lancaster," she said quietly, "your father asked me to remind you that you're expected tonight."

You're expected. A phrase that could mean a hundred things. All of them dangerous.

The words were careful. Polished. But her tone wasn't. There was a warning in it. A quiet echo of power I'd learned to fear in childhood, like the sound of glass cracking under pressure.

I swallowed hard. "He sent you?"

She nodded once. "He said... it would be unfortunate if you embarrassed the family."

There it was.

I stood, numb, brushing my hands on the side of my pants. Charcoal smeared across my fingers like guilt.

"Tell him I'll be ready in fifteen minutes."

The maid dipped her head and closed the door. The click was soft, final. I sat in silence for a beat longer, staring at the mirror.

***

I dressed in silence. Not because I had nothing to say, but because the words would've turned to screams if I let them out.

The black gown I pulled over my head fit too perfectly. Tailored to impress. Chosen not by me, but by Victor's assistant weeks ago. The slit ran up my leg like an invitation I never sent.

I stared into the mirror, trying to find the woman who could belong to Victor Wolfe.

She didn't look back.

The car was waiting out front, a sleek black thing that gleamed under the estate lights. By the time we arrived, the city was a smear of lights outside the tinted window. The estate's private driver didn't speak. He didn't need to. His silence was louder than any lecture my father could give.

When I stepped out of the car, flashbulbs greeted me.

Of course they did.

Everything smelled like old money and real power.

Victor stood near the entrance, surrounded by people laughing too loudly at whatever charming story he was telling. He looked effortlessly perfect in a midnight suit, tailored sharp, tie loose like a movie star who'd just wandered off set.

And then he saw me.

His smile lit up the entire room.

I scanned the crowd for him, pretending I wasn't hoping for someone else.

"There she is," Victor said warmly, breaking away from his group. "I was beginning to think I'd have to send in a rescue team."

I smiled. Barely. "I'm here now."

He stepped forward and kissed my cheek, hand gently resting on my waist. "You look beautiful. Like, breathtaking."

His eyes searched my face, like he really meant it.

And that was the worst part. Victor Wolfe didn't feel like a monster. Not tonight.

He felt like every girl's dream.

"You okay?" he asked softly.

"I had a headache."

"You look like you still do," he said, reaching for my waist. His lips brushed my cheek. "Smile, darling. The cameras are watching."

I smiled. Barely.

Victor studied me for a moment. Noticed the stiffness, the hollowness in my eyes, maybe. "You've been distant lately," he murmured under his breath, guiding me inside. "You know that's not like you."

"I'm fine," I said automatically.

He tilted his head, a hint of concern creasing his brow. "If there's anything I can do..."

"I said I'm fine, Victor."

He didn't push. Just gave a small nod and offered his arm. "Come on, then. Let's give them something to stare at."

The walls were white. Too white. Like a stage dressed up as purity, hiding all the blood underneath.

Art hung like confessionals, silent screams locked in frames.

Champagne. Whispered gossip. Diamonds catching the light like stars.

I stayed close to Victor, letting him guide me like a polished accessory. He knew all the right people, all the right words. He introduced me with pride, never once letting his hand stray inappropriately, never once talking over me.

To everyone here, Victor Wolfe was the perfect fiancé.

And maybe he really was.

Maybe I was the broken one.

But nothing screamed louder than the scent that hit me next.

Faint, but unmistakable.

Masculine. Expensive. Darker than sin.

I hadn't smelled it since the garden. Since him.

My body reacted before my mind did. My breath caught. My stomach dipped. My heart stuttered.

Killian.

I didn't have to see him to know.

That scent had been on my skin. On my pillow. Inside my mouth.

I turned, breath caught in my throat.

And then I saw him.

He looked like sin in a tux. Dark hair swept back, that unreadable gaze cutting through the crowd like a blade.

But he wasn't alone.

She clung to his arm like she was born there.

Long legs. Flawless skin. A dress that looked like it had been poured onto her. She didn't just wear beauty-she weaponized it.

Killian leaned in, said something low near her ear, and she beamed up at him, eyes glittering.

His hand rested at the small of her back, just enough to say She's mine.

I froze.

Victor noticed. "What is it?"

"Nothing," I lied.

But it wasn't nothing. It was everything.

Victor followed my gaze. And when he saw them, his smile didn't falter-it widened.

"Well, well," he said lightly. "My big brother finally decided to show up. And with a plus-one, no less. Wonder where Killian finds these beautiful women."

My stomach twisted.

Then Killian looked up.

Straight at me.

Our eyes locked across the room.

I forgot how to breathe.

For a second, the crowd disappeared. The lights. The noise. Even the woman beside him.

All I saw was him.

And he saw me.

A flicker of recognition passed through his expression. But that was all. No reaction. No surprise. Just cold calculation, like he was measuring the damage.

But there was just the faintest flicker of something behind his gaze.

Recognition.

Memory.

Regret?

No.

Not regret.

Possession.

And something in me... answered.

Victor noticed the shift in my body.

He was watching me now. Carefully. Kindly.

"Ivy," he said, his voice soft again, "you sure you're okay?"

I forced a nod. I turned back to Victor.

"Good," he said, brushing a strand of hair behind my ear. "Because tonight's about us. Not anyone else."

He didn't say anything else. Just handed me a glass of champagne and kissed the side of my head like he was marking territory.

I took a long sip.

Killian's scent still lingered in my nose like a secret I couldn't forget.

And behind my back, I felt his gaze burning through me like fire.