The ballroom was lit like a scene out of a dream—crystal chandeliers raining gold over silk gowns and champagne laughter. Yet, beneath the glow, something dangerous simmered. Damian stood near the marble staircase, his posture rigid, his jaw set tight enough to c***k.
Elena knew that look. It was the storm before the break.
She followed his gaze and saw the cause—Adrian Wolfe, a smug, silver-tongued investor who had been circling her like a hawk all evening. He leaned a little too close, his words dripping with practiced charm.
“You deserve someone who sees you for more than an ornament,” Adrian murmured, his voice carrying just enough for Damian to hear.
Elena froze. She wanted to step away, to cut off the tension before it became a spectacle, but Damian’s presence burned into her fro
