The music in the grand ballroom shifted, the upbeat tempo fading into a deep, soulful rhythm that pulled the remaining guests toward the center of the floor. Under the glow of a thousand crystals, the atmosphere turned thick and heavy. Cassian stood up, adjusting the cuff of his tuxedo. He didn't ask; he simply held out a hand, his eyes demanding she follow.
"The press is waiting for their headline photo," he said, his voice like cold velvet.
"Let’s give them what they came for."
Maeve took his hand, her heart performing a nervous flutter she tried to hide behind a confident smirk. As they stepped onto the polished floor,
Cassian’s large hand landed naturally on the bare skin of her back. The touch was electric. Maeve felt a shiver run down her spine, but she wasn't about to let him
