The ballroom glittered with crystal chandeliers and the soft hum of laughter, the air heavy with perfume and expensive secrets. Elena smoothed her gown for the tenth time, her fingers twitching nervously as Adrian's warm palm rested against the small of her back.
"Relax," he murmured, his voice rich and deliberate. "You look like you're about to bolt."
"I'm fine," she lied, scanning the room full of power-hungry socialites and watchful paparazzi. This was Adrian Kane's world, dazzling, ruthless, and suffocating.
Halfway through the evening, a shrill voice sliced through the chatter. "Well, if it isn't the charity case herself."
Elena stiffened. Turning, she met the smug gaze of Cassandra Moreau — Adrian's former flame and notorious queen of high society gossip. The woman's lips curled in a cruel smile.
"Tell me, Elena," Cassandra drawled, her champagne glass swirling lazily, "does it feel strange… knowing everyone here wonders what exactly you did to make Adrian marry you?"
A few nearby guests chuckled under their breath. Heat burned in Elena's cheeks, but she forced herself to stand taller. "I don't owe you an explanation."
Cassandra leaned closer, her breath reeking of wine. "You're just a pretty ornament, darling. But don't worry… Adrian gets bored quickly. You won't be here long."
Elena's fingers curled into fists, her pulse pounding in her ears. She wanted to walk away, but Cassandra's smirk screamed victory.
Just as Cassandra's manicured hand brushed Elena's shoulder, a shadow loomed.
Adrian.
His eyes were cold steel, his jaw tight as he stepped between them. The entire room seemed to pause.
"Touch my wife again," his voice was low, lethal, "and you'll regret it."
Cassandra's smile faltered. The guests whispered.
But Adrian wasn't done. He took Elena's hand and pulled her flush against him, his gaze never leaving Cassandra's. "This," he said, voice dripping with warning, "is the last time I'll be polite about it."