Dakota wanted to sink into the floor and vanish. Instead, she let herself be led, fingers still laced with his, as Kade guided her away from the long table, away from the dangerous sparkle in his mother's eyes and Dimitri's impossible calm and the child who had a gift for exposing every last shred of her dignity before noon.
They crossed the dining hall and slipped into the corridor beyond. The moment the heavy doors closed behind them, the world narrowed. The house grew quieter here, sunlight softer where it spilled in golden bands across polished marble floors and carved wooden panels. Kade did not release her hand. He led her toward the stairs with that same unhurried certainty he brought to everything, and Dakota, despite every intention of yanking free and reclaiming some fragment of control, found herself walking beside him, pulse still racing from the breakfast table and the memory of his fingers beneath her dress.
