The ballroom glowed under crystal chandeliers.
Gold.
Black.
Glass.
Power.
Elara felt like she had stepped into another world — and this time, she didn't have the safety of shadows to hide in.
This was her first public event as Mrs. Blackwood.
The dress they had prepared for her was black, soft, and dangerous — hugging her like confidence she wasn't sure she deserved.
Dominic walked beside her.
Not leading.
Not dragging.
Walking with.
That alone felt like rebellion.
Every eye in the room turned toward them.
Whispers bloomed like poison.
"That's her…"
"She's so young…"
"She doesn't belong…"
"She's beautiful…"
Her fingers trembled.
Then — warmth.
Dominic's hand closed around hers.
The contact was quiet.
Possessive? No.
Supportive.
A silent promise.
You're not alone.
His thumb brushed lightly against her skin.
Just once.
Just to tell her he was there.
She breathed in slowly.
Eyes tried to swallow her whole.
Women watched her with envy and curiosity.
Men with calculation.
Someone stepped into their path.
Celeste.
White dress. Red lips. Cold eyes.
"Well," she said, looking Elara over slowly. "You clean up nicely."
Elara lifted her chin.
"Thank you."
Dominic's grip tightened just slightly.
Celeste's smile faded.
"Be careful, brother," she said lightly. "Pretty things break quickly."
Then she turned and disappeared into the crowd.
Music started.
Soft. Slow.
A waltz.
Dominic leaned toward Elara, voice low.
"Do you trust me?"
Her heart skipped.
"Yes."
He lifted their hands gently.
"Dance with me."
They moved.
The world blurred.
Her hand rested lightly against his shoulder.
His hand stayed at her waist — firm, respectful, warm.
Their steps were slow.
Careful.
Familiar.
They didn't speak.
They didn't need to.
For those few minutes, they weren't contracts.
Not debt.
Not danger.
Just two broken people moving together in a quiet rhythm.
His fingers brushed the bare skin at the back of her neck.
Not hungry.
Not wrong.
Just… real.
At the end, he leaned close.
"You did well."
Her lips parted.
"I stopped being afraid."
He looked at her.
Like that mattered more than anything.
The music ended.
But the fire didn't.
And from the balcony above, someone watched them with a smile full of hate.