Page 20 of The Devil's Canvas

I blink, forcing my expression to remain neutral. There’s no right answer to that question.

Julian doesn’t move. Just watches, taking in every detail.

"Why wouldn’t I?" My voice comes out flat, distant. Just like always.

Dominic exhales sharply, jaw tightening. "Because I don’t know who he is."

Julian chuckles, quiet, dark. "Then ask."

Dominic ignores him. His focus is on me. "Are you okay?"

That question. The one he always used to ask me. The one I could never answer the way he wanted me to. I swallow. "I’m fine."

Julian’s fingers press slightly against my back, his hold still firm, still steady. He hasn’t let me go.

"You’re not." Julian’s voice is smooth, certain.

Dominic stiffens. His gaze flickers between us, something unsettled in his expression. "How would you know?"

Julian doesn’t hesitate. "Because she doesn’t have to lie to me."

Dominic’s jaw clenches. His hands curl into fists at his sides, but he doesn’t speak. Before the tension can break, a sharp, too-familiar voice cuts through the moment. "Well. Isn’t this interesting?"

Melanie. She walks up, chin high, her perfect mask slipping just enough to show the irritation underneath. Her gaze flicks between me and Julian, sharp, calculating.

"You looked like you were enjoying yourself," she says, but it’s not directed at me. She’s talking to Julian.

Julian smiles—slow, amused, like he’s already two steps ahead of whatever game she’s trying to play.

"Your sister’s a good dancer," he says casually. "She doesn’t need to be the center of attention to make an impression."

Melanie’s lips press together, the first crack in her performance. "How sweet. Though I didn’t realize she needed a date tonight. Funny, she didn’t bring one."

Julian hums, his hand still resting lightly on my back it’s not possessive. Just enough to remind her that I’m not alone.

"I go where I’m needed," he says easily. "And right now, she seems to need someone who sees her."

Melanie’s nostrils flare. For a second, she doesn’t know what to say. I wait for her to recover, to turn the moment around, to make me feel small like she always does.

But Julian doesn’t give her the chance.

"You should be more concerned about your husband," he continues, his smirk widening. "Considering he’s been standing here watching her dance longer than you have."

Melanie stiffens, just slightly, but I see it. She turns to Dominic, her expression smoothing into what is supposed to be natural, but there’s unease there. "Are you coming?"

Dominic hesitates for only a second. But that second is long enough for me to see it. Melanie sees it too.

Her fingers curl into the fabric of her gown before she forces them to relax. "I’m sure you’ve had enough fun for one night, Ophelia," she says, voice airy but her face is laced with ice.

She turns before I can respond, slipping her hand into Dominic’s and pulling him back toward the crowd. I should feel victorious, but I don’t.

Julian’s thumb brushes lightly against my spine, a subtle reminder that he’s still here. "That was fun," he muses.

I exhale, staring after Melanie and Dominic. "For you, maybe."

I’m ready to leave. I’m tired—physically and mentally, in a way I can’t quite name.

I’m over all of this. The crowd, the noise, the empty conversations that don’t mean anything. The way people glance at me like they’re trying to figure something out, like I’m supposed to be someone I’m not.

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