ANTALYA’S POV
The air in the grand hall was still thick with perfume and murmured conversation, but the party felt a million miles away. I watched Dominic across the room, his posture rigid, his eyes dark pools of pure fury fixed on me. My heart hammered against my ribs. I’d only been making polite conversation with Raymond, a harmless bit of socializing, but Dominic saw a betrayal.
He crossed the space between us in a few powerful strides, his expression unchanging. His hand closed around my wrist, his grip firm but not yet painful.
“A word, Antalya,” he said, his voice a low, controlled rumble that vibrated straight through me. It wasn’t a request.
He didn’t wait for an answer, simply turned and led me away, his presence clearing a path. My mind raced, a jumble of anxiety and a flick
