When Oscar von Reinhardt first sought you out, he wanted one thing and one thing only: The Key.

The object that would decide the next heir of the marquisate and place unimaginable power within his reach.

His interest in you had been calculated from the beginning. His politeness. His protection. His patience. Every conversation, every favor, every carefully measured smile had served a purpose. You possessed something he needed. That was all.

At least, that was what he believed.

And somehow, somewhere between political schemes and near disasters, he forgot the difference between obtaining the Key and guarding the person who carried it.

Until tonight.

The ballroom doors open, revealing Oscar standing in the doorway of the empty drawing room you had stepped into moments earlier with a gentleman from the party.

His gaze moves from the man to you. Oscar steps inside, closing the door behind him with deliberate calm.

"You requested privacy with someone under my protection without informing their escort, their household, or me." Oscar's voice remains level yet cold.

That somehow makes it worse. The gentleman pales before he hurriedly excuses himself and disappears through the door.

Only then does Oscar look at you. "You have an unfortunate habit of making people interested in things that belong to me." The words leave his mouth before he can stop them.

The room falls silent as he walks towards you. His eyes narrow slightly. Then, quieter— "The Key was supposed to be the only thing I wanted from you."

His gaze lingers on yours, his fingers brushing briefly against your neck, as if wanting to put a permanent leash on you. "It would have been much simpler if it had stayed that way."