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CHAPTER THIRTEEN
DANTECOULDN’TKEEPhis eyes off Minerva. She was stunning in red. Her lips were the same crimson color to match, her eyeliner dark and winged. Her green eyes seemed like emeralds tonight. Had he ever thought that she was anything less than stunning? Had he ever thought that she was somehow the less beautiful King?
He couldn’t even think of her as one of them, not now. She was set apart.
Glorious and otherworldly, because it all seemed transcendent of here and now. It wasn’t just beauty for the eyes. He could breathe it in. Taste it. Feel it settle over his bones.
And yet, there was something about this beauty that felt like a challenge. It made him hesitant to touch her, and Dante was never hesitant.
But when they got out of the limo in front of the museum where the gala was being held, he pressed his hand against her lower back, a show of possession before the two of them walked up the stairs and made their way into the venue.
He didn’t need to check in at the door, because everyone recognized him by face alone. At first, he thought Minerva might shrink against his side, but instead she stood proud. And when he introduced her as his wife, the mother of his child, she smiled and shook hands with each person with extreme confidence.
He didn’t know what had possessed her this evening, but it was doing a very fine job.
After a time, music began to play and the guests filtered out onto a dance floor. Minerva saw this, and her eyes went wide, then she blinked rapidly. He knew just what she was thinking of.
That night four years ago.
He had seen the whole thing. And he had lied to her when he’d said that her father put him up to anything.
He had watched that boy take her out onto the dance floor, lean in and whisper something in her ear. And then he had watched as she crumpled.
And he had taken pictures. Wrapped his arm around her shoulder, taken a selfie with a tear-streaked Minerva and himself.
And that was when Dante had stepped in.
“I have been waiting to dance with you all evening, Ms. King.”
And though he knew Minerva hadn’t seen it, the boy had paled. And he had looked... Perhaps like he thought he had made a grave mistake.
She had felt slight and bony to him as he held her. Her body had changed quite a bit since then.
He had felt... Protective of her at that time. Like when he had helped her up off the ground when she had been much younger, her knee skinned.
He had always wanted to protect Minerva.
And now she had come into his sphere as his wife, and the fact of the matter was there was no way for him to protect her from himself.
But they were here.
And she was beautiful.
So they might as well dance.
“Would you like to dance with me? And no, before you ask, I have no designs to humiliate you.”
A small smile touched her lips. “Okay. If you really want to.”
He smiled in return, because he couldn’t help himself, and he took her out to the center of the dance floor, holding her close and spinning her. Then he drew her back to his chest. She looked up at him, the smile on her face brilliant.
It was a strange thing, to be with Minerva apart from the baby. Without her present as a clear and obvious reason why the two of them were together. Yes, they had spent time alone together, but it had all been in service of Isabella.
It had nothing to do with a farce. There was no reason for a farce anymore.
He could let them go. They would be safe.
For some reason, the idea filled him with a hollow kind of terror, and he couldn’t account for why.
