The orchestra played something slow and dangerous, strings weaving through the gilded air like smoke. Lorenzo’s hand rested at the small of my back, guiding me across the floor with that effortless control he wore so well. We moved in perfect sync, bodies close enough for heat but not quite touching where it mattered.
Every step was flawless on the outside.
Inside, I was cataloging.
Every time he’d whispered ‘mine’ in the dark. Every time he’d looked at me like I was the only thing in the room worth owning. Every promise he’d made with his mouth on my skin.
And the one he’d broken tonight with someone else’s lipstick on his collar.
I let my cheek brush his jaw as we turned, lips near his ear.
“Careful, Lorenzo,” I murmured, voice soft enough to sound like affection. “Someone’s marked
