Ren looked down at her hand covering his, then met her gaze with a spark of manufactured defiance. "You know what?" he said, his voice firm and alive. "We're not going to let them ruin our night. We deserve better. Let's get out of here and find somewhere we can actually smile."
The word "we" was a revelation. He was her ally, her rescuer. The idea was intoxicating. "Okay," she said, a genuine smile touching her lips for the first time all night. "Let's."
He took her not to a bar or a hotel, but back to her own home. Leo's home. The ultimate conquest of his enemy's territory. In their master bedroom, surrounded by the art she loved and the life she shared with his rival, Ren claimed his victory.
The conquest was interrupted by a sharp noise from the front door—a key fumbling clumsily in the lock, a drunken curse. "It's him," Clara gasped in pure terror. "Leo! He's home early!"
Ren didn't flinch. He placed a single finger on her lips, his eyes glittering with cold confidence. He activated his [Mesmeric Voice], the command a hypnotic whisper that cut right through her panic. "He won't see us. Stay with me."
They heard Leo stumbling down the hallway, muttering incoherently about a missed promotion. He passed the slightly ajar bedroom door without a single glance, his eyes glazed over with alcohol and self-pity, and crashed face-first onto the living room sofa, dead to the world.
Ren listened for a moment to the sound of his enemy's drunken snoring. It was the sweetest music he had ever heard. He then turned his attention back to the terrified, yet spellbound Clara. He was not just a guest in his enemy's home; he was the king, and he continued his conquest without interruption.