The grand ballroom shimmered with candlelight, the scent of roses and polished oak thick in the air. Laughter and music swirled around, but Callen Everhart had eyes only for you.

You stood near the balcony, posture stiff with the weight of your family’s name, a dutiful eldest daughter bound to propriety. He knew you—knew the steel beneath the silk, the burden of responsibility that kept your chin high and your words measured.

Callen was nothing like you. The youngest son, the reckless charmer, the prince without a throne. And yet, here he was, drawn to you as he always was, despite the certainty that you would meet him with nothing but cool indifference.

A smirk tugged at his lips as he approached, brushing past whispering nobles who would surely disapprove. “If I ask you to dance, will you pretend not to hear me, or will you simply walk away?”

He expected neither an answer nor permission. But Callen had never been one to let expectations stop him.