Chapter 2 2

Lucian's voice comes from behind her. She turns, startled. He looks composed again, not a single line out of place.

"Is everything fine now?" she asks.

"Just a false alarm. One of the generators overheated." He gestures toward the crowd. "No reason to ruin the evening."

She studies him. "You handled that fast."

"I prefer problems solved before anyone notices."

He looks toward the dance floor. Couples are already moving again, pretending nothing happened. "Where were we?"

"You left in the middle of our conversation," she says.

"Then let's finish it." He offers his hand. "May I?"

Eve hesitates only a second before setting her glass aside. "I thought you didn't have time for distractions."

"Sometimes distraction is the only way to keep people calm."

The music rises, steady and confident. He leads her back into motion, slower this time, closer. His hand rests lightly against her back, but the grip feels stronger than it should. She's aware of every movement, the rhythm of their steps matching almost perfectly.

"I'm not very good at this," she admits quietly.

"You're fine."

"You didn't even look."

"I didn't have to."

Their eyes meet again. The orchestra slides into a Christmas melody, an older one, soft bells, gentle strings. Around them, couples laugh, whisper, lean too close. For once, Eve doesn't think about the guards, the business deals, or her parents' warnings.

Lucian studies her face. "You don't come to these often."

"I prefer quieter nights."

"Then why are you here?"

"Family politics." Eve shrugs

He nods slightly. "That's how it starts for most of us."

His tone changes, almost thoughtful. "But you don't belong in this world. You're not built for it."

She frowns. "You don't know me."

"I can tell enough." Lucian raises a brow in her direction

"Then you're guessing wrong."

He almost smiles. "I hope so."

The song slows. He steps closer. She doesn't move back.

"Tell me, Miss Moretti," he says quietly. "Do you always walk into rooms full of wolves without realizing it?"

Eve blinks. "Wolves?"

"Just a saying," he says smoothly, but his eyes linger too long on hers.

Before she can ask what he means, a server rushes toward them. "Don Vasiliev, there's a call from the northern border line. They say it's urgent."

Lucian releases her hand. "Excuse me again."

She nods, trying to hide her disappointment. "Of course."

He takes a step, then pauses. "Stay away from the east wing. It's under repair."

"I wasn't planning to explore."

He studies her for a moment longer. "Good."

Lucian walks off with the server, his expression hardening again. The waltz ends, the crowd claps politely, and Eve stands alone at the edge of the floor, trying to understand why her chest feels tight.

She turns toward the buffet to regain her composure and nearly collides with another woman, tall, blonde, wearing a silver gown. The woman steadies her drink with a quick glare.

"Watch where you're going," the stranger says, voice clipped.

"Sorry," Eve murmurs.

The woman's eyes flick toward Lucian across the room, then back to Eve. "You shouldn't get too comfortable. He has his ways."

Eve stares, confused. "Excuse me?"

The woman smiles without warmth. "You'll figure it out soon enough."

Before Eve can respond, the woman walks away, leaving her with an uneasy chill and too many questions about Lucian

Eve sets her half-empty glass down and heads toward the terrace doors. The noise of the ballroom feels overwhelming now, their laughter forced. She needs air, a little quiet.

The night outside is colder than she expects. Snow falls softly over the terrace, coating the stone railing and the tops of the evergreen shrubs. The sky glows pale from the city lights below. She wraps her arms around herself and breathes out, watching her breath fade.

Inside, the orchestra begins another slow Christmas piece, muffled by the doors.

Footsteps crunch behind her. She turns, expecting a waiter, but it's Lucian.

"You shouldn't be alone out here," he says.

Eve forces a small smile. "I was starting to think the same about you."

He stops a few steps away. "You didn't enjoy the company inside?"

"I think I said something wrong to one of your guests."

"Which one?"

"Blonde, silver dress. Looked like she wanted to set me on fire."

Lucian's expression tightens for a second. "Lyra D'Amato."

"Friend of yours?"

"Something like that."

He doesn't elaborate, and she doesn't ask. They stand there in silence, snow collecting on the railing between them.

"You said this place was full of wolves," she says finally. "Were you joking?"

He watches her carefully. "Does it matter?"

"It does if I'm surrounded by them."

His mouth twitches, almost a smile. "Then maybe you should learn to bite back."

She lets out a breath that could almost be a laugh. "I'll keep that in mind."

Lucian takes a small step closer. The snow crunches beneath his shoes. "You're not afraid of much, are you?"

"I didn't say that."

"Then what are you afraid of?"

"Losing control," she admits before thinking.

His eyes narrow slightly, curious. "Of what?"

"I don't know. It's just a feeling."

He studies her as if trying to read something under her skin. "You should trust your instincts. They keep people alive."

Eve looks away, embarrassed. "You make everything sound like a threat."

"It isn't one."

When she glances back, he's closer again. Not enough to frighten her, but enough that she feels his breath in the cold air. The faint scent of smoke and winter spice clings to him.

He says quietly, "This is your first time here. You'll remember it."

"I already do."

Lucian leans slightly, as if about to say more, when a burst of shouting echoes from inside. A man rushes through the doors, phone in hand. "Don Vasiliev, the border patrol needs you now. It's urgent."

Lucian straightens. "I'll be there in a minute."

The man disappears back inside. Lucian looks at Eve once more. "Go find your parents. Don't wander."

"What's happening?"

"Nothing that concerns you." His tone is firm now.

He turns to leave, but Eve catches his arm. "Lucian."

He stops.

She doesn't know what she means to say until the words come out. "You're different from what they say."

He looks at her hand on his sleeve, then at her. "Don't believe what people say about anyone in this world."

Then he's gone, moving back through the doors, already giving orders to the men in black.

Eve stands there, heart still beating fast, the echo of his last look stuck in her mind. She turns toward the snow again, trying to calm herself, but something inside her stirs, an odd pull in her chest, a sharp twist of pain and heat that makes her grip the railing.

Her breathing quickens. The sound of the orchestra fades. A thin shimmer flickers in her vision, gold at the edge of the white snow.

"Eve?" Her mother's voice comes from the doorway. "Are you all right?"

Eve straightens quickly. "I'm fine."

Her mother eyes her suspiciously. "You look pale. Come inside before you catch cold."

Eve starts to answer, but a low, animal sound rises from somewhere deep in the gardens making both women freeze.

"What was that?" Eve whispers.