The flashing lights of the paparazzi were a dizzying contrast to the heated darkness of the car. My lips felt swollen, tingling from James's touch, and I was certain my eyes told a story I wasn't supposed to share. James, however, was a master of masks. He stood tall, one hand possessively on the small of my back, his face a granite wall of billionaire indifference.
******
"Smile, Anna," he murmured, his breath ghosting against my ear. "You're the princess of the Reynolds empire tonight. Don't let them see you're trembling."
I forced my lips into a practiced curve, though my heart was still racing. Every time his palm moved against the silk of my dress, a fresh jolt of electricity shot through me. He had raised me to be a "good girl," but the way he had just tasted me in the car proved he wanted me to be something else entirely.
As we entered the grand ballroom, the scent of expensive lilies and vintage champagne washed over us. This was James's world now—a world of high-stakes deals and silent power plays.
"James! There he is. The man of the hour!"
A tall, blonde man with a predatory smile approached us. It was Julian Vane, James's biggest rival in the tech industry and a man known for collecting scandals as easily as companies. His eyes didn't go to James; they went straight to me, scanning me with a boldness that made my skin crawl.
"And this must be the lovely Anna," Julian purred, reaching out to take my hand. Instead of a polite shake, he pressed a lingering kiss to my knuckles, his eyes locked on mine. "I heard you had a ward, James, but you failed to mention she was the most breathtaking woman in the room."
I felt the muscle in James's jaw twitch. The hand on my back tightened, his fingers digging slightly into my skin—a silent, possessive warning.
"She's my daughter, Vane," James said, his voice dropping to a dangerous, icy register. "And she's off-limits to someone like you."
"Is she?" Julian raised a skeptical eyebrow, his gaze flickering between us. He was a shark; he could smell blood in the water. He could see the way I leaned into James, and perhaps he could see the lingering flush on my neck that no amount of foundation could hide. "You aren't blood-related, if I recall. And nineteen is a very... versatile age. Perhaps Anna would like to dance with someone who isn't her 'father' for once?"
The air between the two men became electric, thick with a tension that threatened to snap.
"I don't think so," James growled. He turned me away from Julian, his body shielding me from the other man's view. "We have business to attend to."
He led me toward a secluded balcony, far from the prying eyes of the donors and the cameras. The moment we were in the shadows, he spun me around, pinning me against the cold stone railing. His eyes were no longer cold; they were burning with a raw, unadulterated jealousy that made my knees weak.
"Did you like the way he looked at you?" he demanded, his voice a low hiss.
"James, stop. He was just being polite—"
"He was looking at you like you were a prize to be won," James interrupted, his hand moving from my waist to my throat, not to hurt, but to force me to look at him. "He doesn't know you like I do. He hasn't seen you grow up. He doesn't know the sound you make when you're scared... or when you're wanting."
He leaned down, his forehead resting against mine. "You are mine, Anna. Not his. Not anyone's. Do you understand?"
**********
The erotic charge in his voice was undeniable. It was no longer about the law or the labels; it was about the dark, possessive need of a man who had everything but the one thing he wasn't allowed to have.
"I'm yours," I whispered, the words a confession and a surrender.
"Prove it," he commanded, his eyes dropping to my lips. "Go back out there, dance with him for one song to keep appearances, and make sure he knows exactly whose house you're going home to tonight."
He stepped back, adjusting his cufflinks with terrifying calm. "If you don't, I might just have to reclaim what's mine right here on this balcony."