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Even if it was her father, it stirred an unwarranted feeling from me. I forced my focus elsewhere before it could take hold. The way the fabric tapered into an arrow above the dimples of her lower back was… dangerous.

Disappointment washed through me as the view was cut off by Draco returning the embrace, his hold gentle but firm. It was both a blessing and a curse—because if it hadn’t, I wasn’t sure where my thoughts would have gone. In the few seconds I’d lost myself, I missed what he said. I only caught her response.

“Please… be gentle with him. I think we still have three more days until the big one,” she said, pulling away as she turned toward the door.

As Valentina passed, her hand slid over the soft wool of my coat, squeezing gently as she moved by. Even though it was a quiet, reassuring gesture, it was bold in all the ways my mind needed. I had been afraid to do the same in her father’s presence, but here she was, asserting that pull without hesitation. It grounded me for that second. Soft. Reverent.

But as soon as it left me, the seeds of doubt began to settle again at the base of my gut. Lord Draco’s face turned unreadable as Valentina touched me. It only fed into my unease, but his response surprised me.

“Of course,” he said, lifting a hand in a small motion to dismiss her.

“I’ll see you later, Alexander,” Valentina added, offering a slight curtsy. I answered with a silent nod, not trusting my voice to come out steady. She stepped into the corridor, her movements as graceful as ever, the door swinging shut behind her with a quiet click.

The moment she left, my stomach dropped.

Being alone with him scraped raw in my senses. It left me feeling exposed. I hadn’t realized Valentina’s presence had been the only thing keeping me from slipping off the deep end. My pulse spiked in my ears, warning my body to stay alert. If it had been up to me, I would’ve walked right out of the office with her. It wouldn’t have done me any good, though, I had a feeling she would’ve pushed me right back in if I tried.

His presence made my skin crawl, the hair at the nape of my neck rising in warning. It was the most discouraging feeling. I never liked being watched, especially not like this. The way his gaze lingered, expectant, stirred me close to dread.

Being cared for by strangers was one thing. But being expected of by them? That was something else entirely. I could learn to care. But meeting expectations, unspoken, heavy, was more than I knew how to carry. My fingers twitched at my sides, the urge to run them through my curls grounding and familiar. I ignored it.

Without a word, Lord Draco moved back toward his desk at the far end of the room. The cloak draped around his shoulders flowed behind him in soft waves as he went.

The office closed in around me as I took it in properly for the first time. The walls stretched high, lined with oak bookshelves filled with rows of worn volumes. Between them, shelves displayed odd-colored liquids, deep crimsons and glowing violets, resting in staggered glass bottles that looked more like potions than anything else.

Everything about the space was steeped in decadence. The ivory walls were flawless, the crimson rug beneath the seating area rich and heavy. If I hadn’t been standing in it myself, I wouldn’t have believed a place like this existed, not that I didn’t know it did… just that I never imagined I’d be in it.

What space wasn’t claimed by books was filled with portraits. Images of him, and a woman. Her skin was like smoldered mahogany, dark and radiant with a living warmth. Her hair was pure white, spilling in abundant curls that crowned her like royalty. She looked like something out of another time, refined, luminous. A Victorian diamond. In some of the portraits, there was a third figure. A little girl.

She was the spitting image of the woman, beautiful in the same quiet way. Matching white ringlets framed her face, soft and delicate. The only difference was her tone, lighter, still a warm, glowing caramel.

They were such a beautiful family, it made me wonder what could have happened to her. The only mention of Valentina’s mother had been brief, and it left me with more questions than answers. Had she died? Valentina had been so aloof when she spoke of her that I suspected she had. The thought pulled at me, heavy, unwelcome. I would never wish death on anyone.

In one portrait, Lord Draco looked… proud. His arm draped over the woman’s shoulder—not in dominance, but reverence. I wondered if she was Valentina’s mother. She had to be. She looked exactly like her. Even the gleam in her eyes matched Val’s. Whoever had captured them had been truly talented. If I ever got the chance to meet them, I’d want to study their craft.

My focus shifted back to the man before me as he pulled his chair from his desk. For the first time since he’d moved, I realized he had been watching me. I didn’t know him well, but it felt like he had been giving me time, to take it all in, to process. When he caught me staring, his lips curved slightly. A smile. Warm… but not quite. It felt practiced.

Lord Draco’s hand rose gracefully in front of him, inviting me forward. I hesitated at the edge of the room, weighing the step. There was a part of me that didn’t want to hear what he had to say. Once I did, there would be no going back, no hiding behind my own naivety. I’d have to face it. And that felt more frightening than staying in the dark.

His brow lifted slightly as he leaned back into his chair. A stillness settled between us, flowing through me as smoothly as water through a stream. Bringing his hand to his chin, he brushed his thumb along the bare skin before saying quietly, “Come. Sit, Alexander. I will not hurt you.”

From head to toe, my body resisted, bracing against the fear tightening in my chest. My pride refused to let it show. I forced myself into composure. Trusting that thin thread of control, I stepped forward and claimed the chair in front of him. My shoulders squared, just slightly, as I moved, pulling out the crimson seat. I lowered myself into it, keeping my back straight as I finally faced him fully.

Every nerve in my body sharpened as I settled in. There was no filter left. My mouth moved before I could stop it. “I don’t even know where to start, honestly.” The words came out steadier than I felt. But the question was already there, burning. The night he took me. Could I trust anyone?

Even if I didn’t fully trust him, I wanted to thank him. Shake his hand. Maybe even smile. But something in his presence warned me off.

Despite the smile he wore, it didn’t feel welcoming. And yet… I couldn’t say that it wasn’t. I didn’t know him well enough. The way his eyes held mine, it didn’t feel like he was seeing me. Not really. It felt like he was looking past me… at the possibility of what I could become. I kept my gratitude to myself, unsure if I even wanted to acknowledge that possibility.

His expression remained pleasant as he spoke. “You’re here because of me, so I suppose it’s only fair that I be the one to start,” he said with a grin. But the slight lift of his brow, the faint twitch at the corner of his mouth, made it clear this wasn’t meant lightly.

The tension in the air felt like a blade pressed to my throat. One wrong word, and it could turn in an instant. “I suppose,” I agreed, a little too quickly. There was no winning here. So I kept my mouth shut and let him take the lead.

A satisfied look settled over him as he leaned forward, his elbow resting against the dark wood of his desk. I could feel the faint brush of his breath against my face as he spoke. “My name is Lord Draco Cyrus Corpus. My daughter may have told you—I am the Hand to King Victor… the man who once tried to have you killed.” He paused. Letting it settle.

The title had crossed my mind before, when Valentina first mentioned it. It hadn’t sat right with me then, and it didn’t now. How close he stood to the man who wanted me dead. But… it also worked in my favor. He had betrayed the one person who trusted him with their darkest secrets. Just because that person was me… Did that make him dangerous? Or did it make him someone I could trust?

His medicinal scent flared through me, coating my tongue and senses as he spoke again. There was an edge in his voice that pulled my attention, sharp and deliberate. “He only gave me the title because he believes you’re dead. We need to keep it that way—for now.”