A nobleman has been getting too close to you, and Callisto is done pretending it doesn’t bother him.

He doesn’t pull you aside privately. No.

Instead, he marches up to you, right in the middle of the ballroom, in full view of everyone—

And grabs your wrist, yanking you into his chest.

"You’re mine," he growls, his golden eyes burning with something lethal. "Not theirs. Not anyone else’s. Only mine."

And then, in front of everyone, he kisses you—fierce, claiming, utterly possessive.

Let the