Page 55 of The Devil's Canvas

I scoff, shifting my weight against the couch. “Not interested.”

A sharp sigh crackles through the phone. "Oh, come on, Ophelia. Don’t be childish.”

The audacity. I almost laugh. “Childish?”

“It’s important,” she insists, her voice dripping with manufactured patience. “To all of us.”

“To all of us?” I repeat slowly.

There’s a shuffle on the other end, followed by a muted exchange I can’t quite make out.

"Ophelia, please." Dominic. I close my eyes for a second, dragging in a breath before opening them again. Of course he’s involved.

"You don’t have to do this," I mutter, rubbing my fingers against my temple. But we both know he will.

“I’m not asking for much,” he says, his voice softer now, edged with something that almost sounds like regret. “Melanie’s right. This could be huge—for all of us. It’s a big night.”

"For her," I correct flatly, my nails digging into my palm.

A pause. No argument. No denial. Just silence.

Julian watches me, eyes sharp and his eyes turning to liquid gold. I can feel it—the choice settling in my hands. For the first time in my life, no one gets to decide for me.

"Fine," I say, my voice steady. "But I'm bringing a date."

The silence that follows is thick, heavy.

“No.” Dominic’s voice is sharp. Immediate.

But Melanie, sounding almost amused, overrules him. “Yes.”

Julian exhales dramatically, shifting against the couch like this is the most entertaining conversation he’s ever heard. His arm stretches along the back of the couch, his hand grazing my shoulder in a way that’s almost absentminded—like it’s second nature, like he belongs there.

"You know," he muses, voice smooth and tauntingly casual, "I’ve always wanted to walk a red carpet."

Dominic is the first to react. "Who's—"

Melanie speaks at the same time. "Who—"

I don’t let either of them finish. "My boyfriend."

Julian lets out a quiet chuckle beside me, the sound curling around the room like smoke. His fingers trace the curve of my shoulder before his palm settles against the nape of my neck.

He leans in slightly, his voice brushing against my skin.

"Oh, sweetheart," he murmurs, low and amused, "we’re much more than that."

Dominic inhales sharply, the sound picked up by the speaker. "You’re—?"

I glance at Julian. His red-gold eyes meet mine. Waiting. My decision. My choice.

I let out a breath and turn back to the phone.

"We’ll be there."

Another pause.

Dominic’s voice is tight when he speaks again. "We?"

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