"Would you like to dance, Mrs. De Rossi?"
"I thought you'd never ask."
The second Charlène's fingertips grazed his palm. The temperature in the ballroom vanished. A suffocating silence draped over the crowd.
The man had the audacity to smile, a look of triumph crossing his face as he prepared to pull the future De Rossi Donna into his arms.
He didn't see the shadow moving behind him.
The kind of walk that made conversations die mid-sentence and laughter choke in throats. Heads turned. Eyes followed. Even the air shifted to make space for him.
Still, the man didn't let go of her hand.
Arrogant.
Or stupid.
Maybe both.
Lucien stopped in front of them.
But it was too late.
Lucien's gaze dropped to their joined hands.
He reached out.
He took Charlène's wrist from the man's grip and pulled her behind him in one smooth motion.
"You touched what belongs to me."
The man straightened, forcing a smile that didn't quite hide the tension tightening his jaw.
