The gala at the Vane Museum of Art was a sea of black ties and silk gowns, but Xavier only had eyes for the woman standing beside him. Seraphina was draped in a floor-length gown of midnight blue that shimmered like a captured galaxy. For the first time, she didn't look like a CEO; she looked like a vision.
"Stay close," she whispered, her hand trembling slightly as she tucked it into the crook of his arm. "Isabella is here, and she brought the paparazzi. If we don't look like we're in love, the headlines tomorrow will ruin us."
"Then let's give them something to write about," Xavier said, his voice dropping an octave. He reached over and covered her hand with his, his thumb tracing slow, deliberate circles over her knuckles.
The music shifted—a slow, haunting violin melody that filled the marble hall. Before Seraphina could protest, Xavier led her toward the center of the ballroom floor.
"Xavier, what are you doing?" she hissed, her cheeks flushing a soft, dusty pink. "I don't dance in public. It's too... vulnerable."
"Then be vulnerable with me," he replied, his gaze locking onto hers. He placed one hand firmly on the small of her back, pulling her flush against him. The scent of her perfume—roses and cold rain—swirled around him, making his head light.
As they began to move, the room seemed to fade away. The flashing cameras, the whispering socialites, and even the shadow of Silas Vane disappeared. There was only the heat of her body against his and the way her breath hitched every time his hand pressed slightly firmer against her waist.
"You're a good dancer," she murmured, her head resting for a fleeting second against his shoulder. "Where did a man like you learn to move like this?"
"In the streets of Lagos, you learn to move or you get stepped on," Xavier joked softly, but his eyes were serious. "But I've never had a partner like you, Seraphina. You spend so much time being a queen that you've forgotten how it feels to just be a girl."
Suddenly, the music was interrupted by a sharp, condescending laugh. Isabella appeared at the edge of the dance floor, holding a glass of dark red wine.
"Oh, look at the lovebirds," Isabella mocked, her eyes narrowed in jealousy. "It's a beautiful performance, Seraphina. Truly. But we all know Xavier is just a placeholder. A man from the gutter can't handle a woman who owns the sky."
Isabella "accidentally" tripped, her glass tilting toward Seraphina's priceless blue gown. The red wine began to fly through the air in slow motion.
Xavier didn't hesitate. He spun Seraphina around, shielding her body with his own. The heavy red wine splashed across the back of his white dress shirt and his expensive navy jacket, soaking into the fabric.
The room went silent. Isabella gasped, her fake smile faltering.
Xavier didn't look at the stain. He didn't even look at Isabella. He kept his eyes on Seraphina, whose hands were clutching his lapels, her eyes wide with shock.
"Are you okay?" he asked, his voice low and protective.
"You... you ruined your suit for me," she whispered, her voice thick with an emotion she couldn't hide. "That was a five-thousand-dollar jacket, Xavier."
"It's just fabric, Seraphina," he said, reaching up to brush a stray lock of hair from her forehead. "You're the only thing in this room that matters."
He turned to Isabella then, his expression turning to stone. "The next time you want to play games, Isabella, remember that I'm not just her fiancé. I'm her protector. And I don't care how much your dress cost—if you touch her again, I'll make sure the world knows exactly what kind of 'lady' you really are."
He led Seraphina off the floor, his hand never leaving the small of her back. They walked past the stunned crowd and out onto the balcony, where the cool night air hit them.
Seraphina turned to him, the moonlight catching the tears in her eyes. "Nobody has ever done that for me. Nobody has ever stood in front of the hit."
"Then you've been hanging out with the wrong people," Xavier said.
Before he could stop himself, he leaned in. He didn't wait for a contract or a prompt. He pressed his lips to hers in a kiss that was slow, deep, and tasted of salt and moonlight. For a moment, the Ice Queen melted completely. Her arms wound around his neck, pulling him closer, as if she were a drowning woman and he was the only life raft in the sea.
When they finally pulled apart, Seraphina was breathless, her lips swollen and her eyes bright.
"That wasn't in the contract," she whispered.
"The contract is for the world," Xavier replied, resting his forehead against hers. "That kiss was for us."