"Which is why her husband cuts her off," I said. "Come on, the opening dance is about to start."
The band was in position, conductor raising his baton.
I led Vivienne to the center of the dance floor.
The surrounding guests automatically parted, all eyes on us again.
"Nervous?" I asked quietly.
"Duh," she whispered back. "Everyone's staring."
"Let them stare," I said. "All they'll see is a perfect couple."
The music began.
I wrapped my arm around her waist and swept her into the dance.
The music was bold and sweeping, our bodies finding the rhythm immediately. The hellish training from the past two days showed—I barely had to guide her. When my body shifted right, her weight had already followed.
"Remember," I murmured in her ear, spinning her toward the edge of the floor, "by the windows, that's the Marchettis. Left side, third table is the Romanov family, right side—"
"Right side, second table is the Petrov family, back table is the Kovalskis." She picked up seamlessly. "I remember."
"Good." I looked at herapprovingly.
"Looks like Mr. Pakhan underestimated me." She spun, blue eyes gleaming sharp in the light.
The words barely left her mouth when, during another sharp turn, that stiletto heel landed with surgical precision on my instep again.
Hard.
This woman was treating the opening dance like a battlefield.
I didn't react, just narrowed my eyes slightly. I tightened my grip on her slender waist, palm pressing firmly into the small of her back, pulling her hard against me.
Vivienne gasped softly, body going slack, that vicious stomp transforming into something breathtakingly intimate.
"That's interest on my evaluation." She leaned into me, cheeks flushed, voice still provocatively sweet. "This dance is exhausting. Consider it my reward."
"Indeed, prompt payment." My fingers dug into her waist, feeling her delicate skin tremble under my touch. "So this is my retaliation."
The music reached its finale. As the last note fell, I guided her through an elegant finish, then led her to the most visible spot on the floor.
The murmured conversations gradually ceased. Every eye in the room found us.
I took a champagne flute from a passing server's tray, my other arm naturally drawing Vivienne close, and surveyed the crowd.
"Ladies and gentlemen, tonight's theme is charity, but it's also a... special evening for the Volkov family." I looked out at those politicians and merchants, voice steady and commanding. "I'm pleased to formally introduce everyone to—my fiancée, Vivienne Cole."
The words fell into a brief, suffocating silence.
I felt the scrutiny, the jealousy, the doubt in those stares, and the malice lurking in the shadows.
But then polite, hollow applause erupted. Wave after wave, like a tide.
I felt Vivienne's hand on my arm tighten momentarily. I looked down, about to check if the scene had rattled her, but found her notonly unfazed—she was meeting those stares head-on with an infectiously confident smile.
She lifted her chin, meeting my eyes. Those blue eyes held no pretense, no impurity—only her own clear, razor-sharp fighting spirit.
