“To the real Reese.” His words carry more weight than he probably realizes.
The second shot blazes down my throat, making the party lights swim and dance. The crowd vibrates around us. Designer clothes and perfect faces, camera flashes popping like stars. There are snippets of whispers and curious stares.
“I never actually dance at these things,” I admit to Dante.
“That’s a shame. We could change that.”
If tonight’s about erasing Felix’s slander and shifting the focus to my evolution, it’s time to give them something to talk about.
“You’re right, come with me,” I say, tugging Dante toward the writhing mass of bodies.
Knowing every eye follows our movement, we slip between the people until we’re safely hidden in plain sight. The musicwraps around us, and I let my body sway with the same freeness I felt at Wizard Island.
A group in the corner turns their attention toward us, whispers rising over the clink of their cocktails. Their stares prick against my skin, sharp and uninvited.
I straighten, chin lifted—the practiced stance of someone who’s always been told how to present herself. It makes me seem taller, more confident than I feel. But inside, I shrink with every glance.
Dante sees it instantly. His gaze locks onto mine, and I relax. “Hey,” he says, loud enough for me to hear over the music. “Look at me. Just me. Ignore them.”
“Okay.”
“Like we do in training,” he adds, his expression softening in a way he reserves for only when nobody else is looking. “Focus on your partner.”
Something in me loosens, remembers how to breathe. I relax into the rhythm of us, into the careful space he creates, the one where I don’t have to be anyone but myself.
I’m caught between worlds—powerful under his gaze yet vulnerable under everyone else’s. Half of me wants to shrink away while the other half wants to shine brighter.
“I’m out of my realm here,” I say, letting the confession fall between us like a small, fragile thing.
“Then pretend, Reese,” he says. “Act the part. Act the volition.”
He’s right. I can play a part. I’ve been playing parts my whole life.
So I let my arms go up in the air, moving my body with a new freedom, keeping my eyes on Dante. There’s something holy in the way he looks at me—like I’m both completely seen and completely safe. Every accidental brush of his fingers sendsquiet lightning through me, threatening to pull me right into his gravity.
We maintain my PR-approved bubble of space between us, enough to look casual to the people watching. But the space grows smaller with each beat of the music.
He grazes my arm. Totally innocent, except the touch lingers longer than necessary, and I find myself leaning into it, wanting more pressure.
My hip bumps against his. A coincidence, I tell myself, though I know better.
Oh goodness.
It feels so good. To be here with him. So good that I let the room fade away completely until we’re the only two people left in it.
“I feel like I’m getting away with something terrible in the best possible way,” I blurt out, immediately wanting to slap my own forehead.
“You danced at a party. Revolutionary.” His mouth quirks up at one corner, but his eyes stay soft. “But it looks good on you, being yourself.”
A camera flash ignites his profile, and I notice—again—what I always do. The curve where his jaw meets his neck, the mess of dark curls, untamed from dancing. He moves through spaces like this with effortless confidence, never imposing, always aware.
His shirt clings to his shoulders, hinting at the quiet strength beneath. He smells like damp wood and something unmistakably him. It’s a scent I’ve searched for in rooms he’s already left.
The memory of his lips on mine in the limo crashes back—how gentle he was at first, until he wasn’t. My skin burns hotter than studio lights. Every shift of his body, every twitch of hishands against my waist, pulses with restraint. And I want to be the one to break it.
The crowd surges, pressing us together. His body is solid and too familiar. My fingers brush damp cotton, catching on the heat beneath.
“Careful, Reese,” he says. “Keep looking at me like that, and I might forget we’re supposed to be keeping our distance.”
