The reception was a blur of gold-rimmed plates, high-end champagne, and forced smiles. The two people at the center of it, the air felt thin and cold. The rings were on their fingers, and the contracts were signed, but the war was far from over.
"It’s time for the first dance," a coordinator whispered, nudging them toward the middle of the large dance floor.
The string quartet began to play a slow, haunting waltz. Cassian placed one hand on Maeve’s waist and took her hand with the other. Unlike the gala, where they had traded sharp insults and playful jokes, this time they danced in total silence.
The tension was thick. Every time their bodies brushed against each other, a spark of electricity shot through them, but neither of them said a word. Cassian stared just above Maeve’s head, hi
