CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
ALICE
"I am not going, Mio. And that is final."
I cross my arms, staring at the bed where a piece of fabric is laid out like a trap.
It's a crimson red, thin-strap satin dress that flows like liquid blood.
It's beautiful, it's expensive, and it has Mio's scheming fingerprints all over it.
"Oh, come on, Alice! It's the end-of-the-season party!" Mio groans, literally dropping to her knees on the floor of her bedroom, pulling at my hand.
"Nate is going to do it tonight. He's going to ask her. If you aren't there, Ellie will know something is up.
Do you want to ruin her dream night because you're being a stubborn hermit?"
I look away, my jaw tightening.
"My head still hurts a little."
"Your concussion cleared up two days ago, you big liar," Mio snaps, standing up and grabbing the dress, shoving it into my chest.
"You are wearing this. You are putting on those contact lenses. And you are going to show everyone at Oakhaven that a little fall didn't break you.
Now, get changed before I drag you out in your sweatpants."
An hour later, I am being dragged through the massive, gilded double doors of the Grand Pavilion.
The party is everything the Oakhaven elite considers a baseline.
Crystal chandeliers hang from a vaulted ceiling, casting a sharp, diamond-like glow over the sea of silk and tailored tuxedos.
The air smells of expensive champagne, roasted vanilla, and white roses.
A live string quartet plays a soft, classical melody in the corner, but the chatter of the wealthy easily drowns it out.
Everything seems perfect....
Right in the middle of the ballroom, the music suddenly shifts into something softer.
Nate steps onto the elevated platform, mic in hand.
His usual arrogant swagger is completely gone, replaced by a nervous, genuine smile that makes his cheeks turn slightly pink.
He looks down at Ellie, who is standing in a cream-colored dress, her hand resting subconsciously over her stomach.
"I didn't think I'd ever find a reason to stop running," Nate's voice echoes through the speakers, deep and steady.
He drops to one knee, pulling out a velvet box that flashes with a diamond the size of a marble.
"But then you crashed into my life, Ellie. Will you marry me?"
The crowd gasps, and then the entire hall erupts into deafening cheers.
Ellie covers her mouth, tears spilling over her cheeks as she nods frantically, throwing herself into his arms.
Everyone is clapping, calling it a dream romance.
No one mentions the secret she's carrying; tonight, it's just pure, unadulterated fairy tale.
I clap from the sidelines, a genuine smile breaking through my cold exterior. I am so happy for her.
But then, the temperature in the room drops to below freezing.
Marcus enters through the side doors.
The heavy, dark energy he carries snaps my attention toward him instantly.
His tuxedo is slightly loosened, the first two buttons undone, giving him a rakish, dangerous look.
His usual flirtatious smirk is nowhere to be found.
He walks straight past the cheering crowd, his eyes locked onto me.
He stops right in front of my bench, ignoring the whispers starting around us.
"Alice," he says, his voice rough.
"About the other day... I shouldn't have snapped at you. I was... out of my mind with things I couldn't control. I'm sorry."
I look at him, my heart softening just a fraction.
"It's fine, Marcus. I know things have been tense."
He extends his hand, his grey eyes searching mine.
"Dance with me? Just one. To show me I'm forgiven."
I hesitate, but then I nod.
"Okay. Just one."
He leads me out onto the polished marble floor.
The music has turned into a slow, rhythmic waltz.
Marcus steps close, entirely too close. His right hand slides to my waist, his palm shockingly hot through the thin crimson satin of my dress.
His other hand grips mine, lifting it up between us.
His movements are deliberate.
He pulls my body against his until there's barely any air between us, his fingers pressing into the small of my back with a possessive weight that makes my breath catch.
He leans down, his lips brushing past my ear as we turn.
"You look beautiful tonight, Alice," he whispers, his breath warm against my neck.
"Too beautiful for a place like this."
The hand on my waist slides lower, his thumb tracing a slow, burning line over my hip.
It's an incredibly intimate gesture, a public statement meant to show
everyone—and someone in
particular—that he is holding me.
And it works. It burns.
Out of the corner of my eye, I see a glass of champagne shatter on the floor near the VIP lounge.
Zade is standing there.
Briar is by his side, but he has completely ignored her.
His amber eyes are glowing with a primitive, murderous fury that makes the entire room feel like a powder keg ready to explode.
His jaw is gritted so tightly the muscle in his cheek is leaping.
Before the song can even reach the chorus, the crowd parts like a broken wave.
Heavy, furious strides echo against the marble.
Suddenly, a massive hand grips Marcus's shoulder, ripping him away from me with a violent, bone-snapping force.
"What the fuck—" Marcus starts, his fists clenching, but he's cut off.
Zade steps into the space between us, his massive frame completely blocking Marcus from my view.
He looks feral.
His chest is heaving, his blazer open, and the scent of sandalwood and cold rain slams into me like a physical force.
"Zade, what are you—" I start to gasp, taking a step back.
He doesn't let me finish. He doesn't say a single word.
His hand darts forward, his long fingers wrapping tightly around my waist, pulling my body flush against his chest with a force that knocks the wind out of my lungs.
His other hand cups the back of my neck, his thumb tilting my chin up so violently my eyes go wide.
And then, right there in the middle of the ballroom, under the diamond light of the chandeliers, he bends down and crushes his lips against mine.
The kiss is chaotic, dominant, and full of a dark, suffocating hunger that leaves no room for escape.
It tastes like expensive liquor, anger, and a desperate, terrifying claim.
The entire pavilion goes dead silent.
The music keeps playing, but the world has completely stopped spinning.
I am trapped in his arms, the crimson of my dress matching the wildfire burning between us, and all I can think as the darkness threatens to take me again is that the game is officially over.
We are burning the palace down.