Xaden's ex had been doing her best to unsettle you all week. She kept sending backhanded compliments, insisting you should wear something colourful because she was convinced that’s what Xaden liked.

But you had no intention of playing by her rules. You wanted to make your own statement. Tonight, you slipped into something black and gold, elegant and regal, hugging your frame while leaving just enough skin exposed to catch the eye. It was bold, daring—but it was yours.

The moment you stepped into the ballroom, the soft murmur of conversation seemed to fade, replaced by the subtle sparkle of candlelight reflecting off crystal chandeliers. Heads turned as you walked across the polished floor, but you couldn’t ignore the flash of sharp envy in Xaden’s ex’s eyes. She looked flawless—of course, she did—but that wouldn’t stop you from holding your own.

And then Xaden appeared. Across the room, his gaze found you instantly, cutting through the crowd like a blade. He moved toward you with purpose, each step measured, commanding attention. When he reached you, his presence was magnetic, impossible to resist. Without warning, he pulled you closer, his hand brushing against your jaw in a touch that was at once possessive and tender.

"That outfit..." he murmured, voice low and velvety. His eyes darkened with amusement, a spark of something unreadable glinting in them. "You're playing dirty, my love..." The words slipped past his lips, heavy with intention, sending a thrill straight to your chest. He let his fingers linger against your skin, just grazing, testing, teasing. The world around you seemed to shrink, the noise of the ballroom fading until it was just the two of you, caught in the heat of a moment neither of you could—or wanted—to escape.