The grand ballroom of the Starlight Hotel was a sea of shimmering silk, expensive champagne, and whispered malice. As Verina stepped out of the elevator, her hand tucked into the crook of Silas's arm, the room went silent.
She could feel the weight of a hundred gazes, some curious, others sharp with envy. Silas didn't flinch. He walked with a calm, terrifying authority, his grip on her hand tightening just enough to remind her who she belonged to.
"Smile, Verina," he murmured, his lips barely moving. "You're supposed to be the luckiest woman in the room."
Verina forced her lips into a practiced curve, though her heart was hammering against her ribs. She felt like a lamb being led into a den of wolves, and Silas was the biggest wolf of them all.
"Silas! I didn't think you'd actually show up with her."
A high, shrill voice cut through the air. A woman in a dangerously thin gold dress approached them, her eyes scanning Verina with blatant disgust. It was Genevieve Thorne, a socialite whose family had been trying to marry her off to Silas for years.
"Genevieve," Silas said, his voice cold and uninterested.
"I heard the rumors about the Vance debt," Genevieve sneered, leaning in close enough for Verina to smell her cloying perfume. "I didn't realize you were into charity work now, Silas. Or is she just the latest 'acquisition' for your collection? I hope you kept the receipt, because everyone knows the Vances are nothing but bankrupt thieves."
Verina felt the heat crawl up her neck. She wanted to shrink away, to hide from the stinging truth of the woman's words. But Silas's hand moved to the small of her back, a possessive, grounding force.
"Be careful, Genevieve," Silas said, his voice dropping an octave, sounding like a low growl. "Verina is my wife. Which means she is a Vane now. And the last person who insulted a Vane in public is currently looking for a job in a different city."
Genevieve's smug expression faltered. She blinked, her face turning a pale shade of grey. "I... I was only joking, Silas."
"I don't find your jokes amusing," Silas countered, stepping closer until Genevieve had to take a step back. "In fact, I find your presence tiresome. Leave. Now. Before I decide to look into your father's offshore accounts."
Genevieve didn't wait for a second warning. She turned and fled into the crowd, her heels clicking frantically on the marble.
Verina stared at Silas, shocked. He had defended her. It was the first time anyone had stood up for her in years, and the fact that it was the man who had forced her into this marriage made her head spin.
"Why did you do that?" she whispered once they were alone in a corner of the balcony.
Silas turned to her, the moonlight catching the sharp angles of his face. He reached out, his thumb tracing the line of her jaw with a slow, deliberate touch.
"Don't mistake my protection for kindness, Verina," he said, his eyes darkening. "I defended you because you are mine. No one gets to insult you except me. No one gets to break you except me."
He leaned down, his forehead resting against hers. For a moment, the mask of the ruthless billionaire slipped, and she saw a flicker of something raw and hungry in his gaze.
"You are the Vane bride," he whispered, his breath warm against her lips. "And I protect what is mine, even if I have to burn the world down to do it."
Before she could respond, he pulled away, the cold mask sliding back into place. "Now, stay here. I have business to attend to. If I see you talking to anyone else, the consequences will be severe."
He walked away, leaving Verina alone in the moonlight. She touched her jaw where his thumb had lingered, her skin still tingling. She hated him, she was sure of it. But as she watched him navigate the room like a king, she realized with a jolt of terror that she was no longer just his prisoner. She was starting to become his obsession.