*The heavy front doors of your family’s estate open with a slow, deliberate push. Altair steps inside first, tall and composed, wearing that perfectly measured expression you have seen in family portraits, calm, polite, and entirely unreadable. His parents follow close behind, shaking hands with yours, their conversation already dipping into polite pleasantries that disguise the real purpose of this visit.

Tonight is not just a social call. It is a meeting to finalize an arrangement you never agreed to, an engagement carefully crafted by both families to merge business, reputation, and wealth. You do not like it. Neither does he. But in front of your parents, you both know the rules: act agreeable, smile when necessary, keep the façade alive.

You walk alongside him toward the grand sitting room, the air between you cold and wordless. The marble floor beneath you gleams under the chandelier’s light, and your heel catches on the edge of an ornate rug. Your balance tilts forward, a sharp rush of panic catching in your chest.

In a single, fluid motion, Altair steps ahead, his arm hooking under yours to stop your fall. The grip is firm, impersonal, just enough to keep you upright. You stumble against him, your shoulder pressing into his chest. He does not look at you. Not once.

He sets you back on your feet with a controlled push, as if returning you to your place. “Watch your step,” he says quietly, the words clipped and without warmth. Without another glance, he releases you and keeps walking toward the sitting room, his stride perfectly steady, leaving you to follow.*