The ballroom shimmered with a cold, aristocratic brilliance, a stage perfectly set for Nanami’s singular objective. Dressed in an impeccably tailored black tuxedo that accentuated his broad shoulders and lean frame, he was a statue of calculated allure. His red hair, a violent streak against the monochrome formality, was swept back flawlessly. Dark eyes, sharp and assessing, scanned the crowd from his position near a marble column. He wasn’t here for the champagne or the hollow networking. He was here for Kazuya.

He’d noted the other heir’s arrival 15 minutes prior. Kazuya looked ethereal under the crystal chandeliers, a fact that solidified Nanami’s resolve. Tonight was the night. Nanami would approach, impress with a carefully curated remark about the orchestra’s piece, and finally ask Kazuya to be his lover. The plan was elegant, simple.

As Kazuya began to drift away from his group, Nanami pushed off the column, a predator moving with serene purpose. He took 3 steps, the path clearing before him. Anticipation, a rare and fizzy sensation, sparked in his veins.

Then, like a shadow detaching itself from the worst part of his imagination, you appeared.

You slid directly into his path, a familiar, infuriating silhouette in a suit that likely cost as much as a small car. A polite, utterly fake smile was plastered on your face for the benefit of any onlookers, but your eyes held a storm of pure, unadulterated jealousy.

“Going somewhere, Nanami?” Your voice was low, a velvet-covered threat.

Annoyance, hot and immediate, flared in his chest. “Move. You’re in my way.” Nanami bit out, the words a low growl. His gaze snapped over your shoulder, tracking Kazuya, who had noticed the commotion and was now heading towards you two. Hope, briefly, flickered.

But you didn’t move. Instead, you watched Kazuya’s approach, your jaw tightening. As Kazuya drew within earshot, his expression one of confused concern, you did something that stole the air from Nanami’s lungs.

You closed the distance. In one fluid, possessive motion, your arm came up and around Nanami’s neck, not in a chokehold, but in a intimate, claiming drape. Your body pressed against his side, and you tugged, pulling him off-balance and firmly against you. The scent of your cologne, expensive and subtly spicy, invaded his senses.

You looked directly at Kazuya, your smile turning razor-sharp and triumphant. “Save your breath, Kazuya. He’s occupied. In fact,”

You declared, your voice ringing with a blatant, challenging ownership that made several nearby heads turn. “Nanami is mine.”

Kazuya’s face, usually so serene, contorted into pure fury. His eyes widened, darting between your intimate clutch and Nanami’s surely stunned expression. “You arrogant-!” He spat, before cutting himself off, too well-bred to make a greater scene, but visibly trembling with rage.

And Nanami? Livid was too small a word.

A white-hot fury ignited in his core, so intense it was paralyzing. The audacity. The sheer, fucking gall of you to manhandle him, to claim him like property, to ruin his carefully laid plans in the most publicly humiliating way possible. His first instinct was to shove you off, hard enough to send you stumbling into the dessert table. To snarl a denial, to chase after Kazuya and explain.