CHAPTER 7: A DANCE WITH FIRE
237 Words
The ride back from the gala was silent.
Ava stole a glance at Rhys. His face was unreadable, as always.
Finally, she broke the silence.
“Why did you do that?”
Rhys didn’t look at her. “Do what?”
Ava clenched her fists. “Defend me. Act like you actually—“ She stopped herself.
Like you actually care.
Rhys exhaled, adjusting his cufflinks.
“You’re my wife.”
“That’s not an answer.” Ava snapped.
Rhys gaze finally met hers— sharp, unreadable.
“You’re mine. No one questions that.”
Ava’s breath caught.
Before she could reply, the car stopped. Rhys stepped out, leaving her with a racing heart and no answers.
THE DANCE
A few days later, Ava was invited to a private gathering.
Rhys arrived late— as usual.
Ava stood by the bar when a charming young businessman approached.
“Would you like to dance?”
Before Ava could answer, a hand wrapped around her waist.
Rhys.
“She’s taken.” He said smoothly.
Ava’s breath hitched. Before she could argue, he pulled her onto the dance floor.
His hand settled on her waist. The air between them crackled.
Ava smirked. “Jealous?”
Rhys leaned closer, his breath warm against her ear.
“I don’t like other men touching what’s mine.”
Her heart skipped. It was just a dance. So why did it feel like something more?
- Writer
