The hall shimmered beneath warm golden lights. Chandeliers hung from the ceiling like frozen stars, reflecting off crystal glasses and polished floors. Soft laughter and murmured conversations filled the air until the doors opened and silence fell.
Llewellyn walked in firs, tall and composed dressed in a black suit that looked like it had been tailored for his body alone. He didn't announce his presence, yet it commanded the room. Conversations slowed. Heads turned. Eyes followed him instinctively, as though drawn by gravity.
Then they saw her, she walked beside him not behind him, not dragged, not hidden but beside him.
Her dress flowed softly and sharp with every step simple, elegant, hugging her form just enough to catch the light. She looked nervous, yes, but steady. Poised. Beautiful in a way that didn't demand attention yet claimed it anyway.
The whispers came quickly.
"Who is she?"
"No one walks beside him."
"He brought a girl?"
Llewellyn didn't spare the whispers a glance. Instead,
Suddenly his hand moved slowly and deliberately rested lightly at the small of her waist possessive but cautious because of her nagging, his hand rested there, just there didn't move like he owed her bare existence and everyone could see what his hand resting on her waist meant, it means ownership, protection, interest. All in one touch.
Diane jolted at the contact. A shiver ran down her spine as his fingers brushed the exposed skin at her side. She shot him a sharp look; why are you doing this?
He met her gaze, unapologetic. I don't care.
She exhaled and allowed it. Lifting her chin, she scanned the grand hall. Every eye was on her. She swallowed hard, her heart racing, but she refused to shrink beneath their stares.
That was when she noticed men in black suits scattered across the room, they were watching her not openly, but carefully. Assessing and guarding.
She leaned closer to Llewellyn. "Is the dress code black?" she whispered.
"They're with me," he replied calmly. "My men."
"Why are they here?"
"In case anyone tries to sabotage the party."
Her breath caught. "Sabotage?"
"I have enemies."
That single word humbled her.
The crowd parted effortlessly as they walked through, but the pressure weighed on her. She could feel judgment in every glance, every tight smile. Her steps faltered slightly.
Llewellyn noticed.
"Don't mind them," he murmured, leaning close enough for only her to hear. "They've never seen me bring a date to a party."
Her breath stilled. She looked up at him, expecting amusement, but there was none. Instead he was looking at her like nothing else in the room mattered.
They reached their table just as Rick appeared, as if summoned by Llewellyn's presence alone. His gaze flicked to Diane briefly.
"You look better than usual," he said flatly.
"Thank—" Diane paused. The words replayed in her mind. She frowned. "Wait… that wasn't a compliment."
Rick smirked. "Did it sound like one?"
She crossed her arms. "You don't look bad yourself. Just… maybe black isn't your color."
"My outfit is nothing compared to your plain dress."
"Coming from someone who looks like he ran fifty miles to get here..."
"I rode my bike. And I had coffee," Rick cut in. "I look alive."
"You smell like caffeine and regret. Maybe try another cup."
Rick grumbled. "Really?"
"Yes. Really."
"That's enough," Llewellyn said quietly.
Rick shot Diane one last glare before leaving.
Diane sighed dramatically. "Why are all your people unhinged? First Jecey, now him. Can't blame them though, their boss isn't normal either."
Diane scoffed dramatically, throwing her hands up. Llewllellyn watched her with growing interest as he lifted his glass, taking a slow sip of wine.
She brushed her hair back sharply, irritation written all over her face. She didn't notice his gaze shift.
Didn't notice that as her hair fell back, it no longer shielded her delicate curves the way it had before.
When she finally lowered her hand, she caught him staring, not glancing.Not pretending. But staring.
Her breath hitched. She immediately crossed her arms, covering herself, eyes flashing up to his. Llewllellyn didn't look away. Instead, a slow, possessive smirk curved his lips—jealousy darkening his gaze. "You know," he said calmly, voice low, "there's nothing you're actually hiding from me."
Her heart slammed against her ribs. B0efore she could respond, he finished the rest of his drink in one smooth motion, set the glass down with a quiet clink, and straightened.
"I'll be back," he said, tone leaving no room for argument.
Then he walked away, leaving her standing alone among people far too rich, far too polished, people she didn't know and didn't know how to belong with.
Her eyes drifted back to the glass he'd left behind. Something about it felt… different. She hesitated, then leaned closer and cautiously sniffed it. The scent was sharp. Heavy and too strong for ordinary wine.
"Is this alcoholic?" she wondered under her breath. She wrinkled her nose, straightened, and quietly set the glass back where it was, unease settling in her chest.
*****
"Rick," Llewllellyn said quietly, eyes fixed ahead, "set up my room. I think I'll crash there for a while."
Rick, lounging in Llewllellyn's reserved section, frowned. "Are you… drinking?" Llewllellyn only nodded. And that alone unsettled Rick.
Before he could say more, a voice burst in from behind them. "Boss!"
Jecey strode closer, eyes sharp with curiosity. "What exactly are you planning to do with her?" he asked. Then he scoffed. "Rick told me she dared to slap you. How does someone even get away with that?" He laughed darkly. "I was thinking, maybe we offer her to our rivals as a peace gift. Let them..." Llewllellyn turned slowly.
The smile vanished from Jecey's face. "There will be no such thing," Llewllellyn said calmly, the danger in his tone unmistakable. "Keep an eye on her. I don't want anything happening to her. Anything can happen."
Jecey swallowed, the laughter choking in his throat. He stepped back, muttering under his breath, retreating just far enough, but not leaving entirely.
Rick watched Llewllellyn rub his forehead, jaw clenched tight.
He sighed. "Why don't you just admit what you're feeling and give yourself some peace?" Llewllellyn didn't respond.
Rick smirked faintly. "I know you hate losing. And I know you'll deny it till the end. But let's be honest, look at you, Llewe. You're worse than I was during my breakup."
That earned him a sharp glance. "I don't know," Llewllellyn muttered, eyes dark. "She stands up to me. Fearlessly. And now I can't get her out of my head. The way she looks… the way she—"
"Okay, bro!" Rick cut in quickly. "I don't need details."
Llewllellyn's attention shifted. Across the hall, he spotted Diane.
From where he sat—relaxed against the couch, one arm stretched along the back, legs loose and confident, he lifted his hand and curled one finger slowly, commanding her to come to him.
She saw it. She saw Rick watching her too.
And Jecey—his gaze cold, hostile, like she'd wronged him in another life.
Diane studied them for a brief moment. Then she did the one thing he didn't expect. She flicked her hair back dismissively and turned away, walking off without a second glance.
Llewllellyn's lips curved into a slow, dangerous smirk.
"So," he murmured, rising to his feet, "that's how you want to play it." He stepped away, leaving Rick behind. But the smirk still lingering on his lips.
Across the hall, Diane felt it. That sudden, unmistakable pressure, like eyes on her back, like danger breathing close.
She slowed.
And somewhere behind her, Llewllellyn took his first step.