U

llroom, the noise of the party a dista

she?" a v

onsigliere appear beside me, nursin

our junior. The one who distracted you enough

, taking in the sycophants in their designer c

r charms, get you in the marrying mood. Then you

in my glass. "They're here

There was me thinking they were here

d to my bank account,"

"So, what's next? You've bought the building at las

there's little warmth in it. "The son of

d earlier, early twenties, blonde hair slicked back in an attempt to look older than he is. He's hoveri

hile she's distracted, his fingers deftly plucking

im in the act. He doesn't seem to realize whose party he's a

here's no room for disrespect or disloyalty. And this little shit thinks he can get away

my way over to him. He doesn't see me coming-not at first. But when I'm close enough tha

y the wrist, making me gasp in pai

attempting to recover his composure. It's almost laughable-the way he puffs himself up, t

ce low and dangerous.

t came. He opens his mouth to stammer out an excuse, but

een watching the whole thing unfold, as alwa

instructions to know what I want. His expression doesn't change as he cr

and I can see the moment he realizes

ost casual. "Make sure he learns

d unyielding, and begins to drag him toward the exit. The kid's protests-pleas for mercy, promises that we'll p

ty around me hums with life, the oblivious elite too engrossed in their own conv

to pretend otherwise. After all, they know where

o wrap her in my arms and take her wherever she wants to go,

lmost foreign in this world of mine. There's a vulnerability

of accomplishments. All about the money and the power. But Emily... I can tell she do

seen him do countless times after taking care of business. His expression is unreadable as he

mply, his voice low eno

can picture it all in my mind. The kid, beaten and bloodied, left with the clear

ly, my voice

hing. But he doesn't comment, just gives me a look that's half-question, half-warning. It's

movements tentative, like she's afraid of drawing too much attention. But she'

room with purpose, the crowd parting effortlessly as I move. I catch sight of her

my voice low but clear.

quickly masked by something else-uncertainty, perhaps. She's trying to read me, to figure out what I want, but

," she says, her tone polite,

slight rise and fall of her chest, the way her breath catches as I approach. "N

g to decide if she should stay or if she should make a run for it. I could make the decision f

, her eyes searchi

rent," I say, my tone softening just enough to let her know I mean

s to leave-wants to run back to whatever safe, familiar place she calls home-but she's draw

she decides. With a small nod, she steps closer, her body language shift

nd, and when she takes it, I pull her gently back into t

t suits the mood perfectly. I guide her to the center of the dance fl

closer, I can feel the tension in her muscles, the way

aced by something else-something more primal, more instinctive.

r eyes find mine, and there's something in them

my world. It's the kind of look that makes me want to pr

ol. She's not like the others, and if I push too hard, she'll break. And

y. Instead, I hold her close, feeling the warmth of her bod

ive, this connected to another person. And I'm not sur

and for a moment, I think she might say some

returning in full force. She blinks, the moment shattered, and

oice wavering slightly, as if she's tr

e's on the edge, teetering between staying and flee

looks at me, something vulnerable and

in, shaking my head. "