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I flushed.

“You wouldn’t believe her name, Ci,” Jon added with dry humor.

Arkane nodded toward me with a smile. “Ci, meet Bellerose.” He pulled her to his side. “Bella, this is my brat of a sister, Chiara.”

“Happy Birthday, Chiara,” I said softly. “Nice to meet you.”

“Thank you,” she muttered, snapping her eyes to Arkane. “Kane, please tell me she’s your girlfriend?”

He chuckled, shaking his head. Something about seeing her brother laughing had her smiling warmly. It was only then that I noticed how similar she was to their mother. She had the same flowy ink-black hair and cloud-gray eyes. Even her profile was the same. No wonder everyone had a soft spot for her.

“Let’s go,” Arkane told Chiara. “The guests are waiting for you. Mikhail should also be here.”

“Okay.” She smiled, waving at me before she skipped out of the room, bickering with Grayson and Jon while Lucien and Karl quietly followed.

Arkane and I were the last to leave.

“We got what we came for,” I told him. “I can leave.”

Arkane gave me a bored look. “You’re only leaving when I leave.”

I sighed, following him only to stop short when he halted in front of a powder room.

“Go on.” He gestured, casually leaning against the wall.

I flicked a brow in question.

“You need to wash your hands after touching that dagger,” he said matter-of-factly.

My eyes widened. “How did you know?”

“I just do.” Arkane smiled.

I stood there, not moving, not saying a word.

“If you really want to know.” He leaned in, lips close to my ear. “You’ve been clawing at your palms for the past ten minutes.”

My cheeks heated as I dashed inside the powder room without meeting his eyes and locked the door behind me.

I took in my face in the mirror as I scrubbed my hands clean. My silly habit had never frustrated me as much as it did right now. I learned to break every fear, every hurdle in my life into nothing. I let go of it all, even my past, to keep it from ruining my present. Even this habit was something I accepted, but now, suddenly, with Arkane in my life, it flustered me.

It meant I was letting Arkane get more than just under my skin. But why do I not feel afraid of it at all?

I sighed, taking one last look at my bare face and red cheeks, and exited the room.

Thankfully, for the next hour, time slipped by without any tense hassles. Arkane kept me company in a corner of the room, talking to his brothers and friends while I quietly devoured every possible food at the party. It wasn’t like I had anything better to do.

“Whoever cooks for your family deserves a medal,” I whispered to Arkane.

He smiled at me, but that soon fell when his eyes caught something behind me, and his entire demeanor shifted to an imposing statue.

Frowning, I turned to see a man in a wheelchair enter the hall, with an older-looking man and two guards following him.

Victor Stormhold. The single mole beneath his left eye gave away his identity. Even then, he looked exactly like the pictures. Only much older. His stern eyes were the shade of a dull leaf, his lips contoured sharp as his nose, and his broad face was sullen with high cheekbones and sagging cheeks.

The guests took turns to rush to his side and greet him with the utmost respect, and it wasn’t long before he made his way over to us.

“I see you have brought a guest.” Victor Stormhold voiced stiffly to Arkane upon seeing me. There was no hiding his disapproval of me. His eyes flickered with pure hate. It wasn’t like I was going to marry his son. I was already tired of dealing with Arkane’s family at this point.