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Adeline hid a smirk behind her wine glass. “You did say it wasn't a request, August. Perhaps she prefers to be asked nicely.”

I didn't respond. My gaze stayed locked on the dance floor, on the way Lily moved with surprising ease, slipping into the waltz as if she'd been doing it her whole life.

As if it wasn't me who had asked her first.

The waltz slowed into something softer, a melody meant to coax bodies closer. His hand lingered at the small of her back as he leaned in, murmuring near her ear. When his fingers drifted a shade lower, the pulse in her throat fluttered—something quick and betraying beneath all that practiced composure.

My grip tightened around the glass in my hand, the delicate stem creaking under the force. Lily didn't pull away. She didn't shove his hand higher or step back to remind him of his place. No, she only smiled—smiled—up at him, letting him twirl her in time with the music, her laughter light and effortless.

I had seen her sharp-tongued and unyielding, bristling like a cornered thing whenever I so much as breathed in her direction. Now, she was something else entirely—smooth, alluring, weaving herself into the moment as if she belonged there. And he believed it.

Garrick let out a low chuckle beside me. “I do believe I'm enjoying this.”

I flicked him a warning glance, but he only smirked into his drink.

Adeline, on the other hand, didn't even bother hiding her amusement. “You ought to have been quicker, August. She is rather captivating, isn't she?”

I didn't realize I had pushed to my feet until Garrick murmured, “Oh, this should be interesting.” I didn't give him the satisfaction of a response.

Instead, I strode toward the dance floor, weaving through the bodies with precise steps, ignoring the eyes that flicked toward me in curiosity. I reached them just as he spun her back into place, her breath catching on a quiet exhale.

Without thinking, I stepped in, caught her wrist, and drew her to me. For the briefest flash—real or imagined—something hot sparked beneath my fingers, as if a live wire ran through her pulse.

Her partner stared, affronted.

“Excuse me,” he began. “I don’t believe⁠—”

“You’ve had your turn,” I said, polite but immovable.

He wilted under the unspoken warning and backed away.

“August,” Lily hissed, pushing at my chest. “That was incredibly rude.”

My jaw worked, thumb brushing the inside of her wrist where that strange jolt still seemed to hum. “He was getting too familiar.”

Her eyes flashed. “I was handling it.”

“Were you?” My gaze locked with hers. “Because from where I was sitting, you looked rather comfortable in his arms.”

She let out a tight breath, her fingers flexing against my shoulder. “I was enjoying myself.”

The admission stung more than it should have.

I pulled her closer—closer than was strictly proper. Her breath hitched, and her body softened against mine—the shift from resistance to surrender unmistakable.

“You wanted to dance, Lily.” I guided her into a turn. “So, dance with me.”

“You're doing this to prove a point.”

“Am I?” I let my hand slide just slightly lower on her back.

“And what point would that be?”

“That you always get what you want.”

“No.” I leaned in, close enough that my lips nearly brushed her ear. “That you always end up exactly where you're meant to be.”

“And where's that?”