Page 8 of Until She's Mine
I nod. “It’s a demanding schedule. But I’m sure I could find time—” Tobias’s hand tightens further, a silent warning.
The corner of Lucian’s lips twitches. “Good. I’ll hold you to that.” He inclines his head before turning away, disappearing into the crowd as effortlessly as he appeared.
Tobias’s grip loosens.
I glance at him, searching for some sign of what he’s thinking, but his expression is unreadable now, smoothed over with a smile.
“He’s just being friendly,” I say, though I don’t quite believe it myself.
“Friendly,” Tobias repeats. “Right.”
He downs the rest of his champagne in one swift motion before setting the glass aside. “Come on,” he says, taking my hand and leading me toward the dance floor. “Let’s not let him ruin our night.”
Tobias pulls me into a waltz, and I let myself be swept along by the music, but my thoughts are on a man who wears darkness like a second skin.
Lucian tends to keep to himself, yet his presence naturally attracts attention.
Tobias hates it—the effortless way Lucian commands a room, the quiet power that seems to radiate from him without effort. It’s a constant thorn in Tobias’s side, a reminder of all he has yet to achieve, all the ways he falls short in comparison. He tries to mask it with charm, but the cracks show whenever Lucian is near.
At least Tobias will be the first to marry.
I know it matters to him, being the first to settle down and prove his maturity, his readiness to take on family responsibility.
As we twirl across the dance floor, Tobias’s movements are stiff, his grip on my hand just a little too tight. His smiledoesn’t reach his eyes, and though he keeps up the pretense of conversation, his words are clipped and distracted.
“I have to go socialize,” he says after the dance ends, letting me go.
So he needs me to stand next to him and smile prettily.
I sigh. “I’ll join you in a second.”
Tobias nods, his attention shifting to the group of important-looking men near the bar. He strides away without another word, leaving me standing at the edge of the dance floor.
I watch him go, my chest tightening with relief. The room hums with laughter and clinking glasses, but it seems distant now, as though I’m observing it all from behind a pane of glass. My fingers brush absentmindedly over the fabric of my dress, grounding myself in the cool silk.
And then, as if summoned by my thoughts alone, I feel that familiar prickling sensation at the back of my neck. My breath catches before I even turn around.
“You look like you could use a drink,” Lucian’s voice rumbles behind me.
I turn to him, my heart hammering in my chest. He’s holding two glasses of champagne, one extended toward me.
“Thank you.” I accept it. Our fingers brush for the briefest moment, and a spark of electricity jolts through me, so sharp it nearly makes me drop the glass. I steady it quickly.
Lucian’s eyes darken, tracking the tremor in my hand. “Would you like some fresh air?”
I know with certainty that this is an invitation I’m not supposed to accept. Tobias would hate it. And yet, the thought of saying no is unthinkable.
I glance over my shoulder, searching for Tobias. He’s deep in conversation, his back to me, oblivious to everything but the circle of men vying for his attention. When I turn back to Lucian,his gaze hasn’t wavered. It’s as if he already knows my answer before I do.
I nod.
Lucian doesn’t wait for further confirmation. He turns and begins weaving through the crowd, his stride unhurried but purposeful. I follow, clutching the champagne glass like a lifeline.
The cool night air hits me as soon as we step outside, a welcome relief from the oppressive warmth of the ballroom. The terrace overlooks the sprawling Blackwood gardens, bathed in the soft glow of moonlight.
Lucian closes the door behind him with a soft click. He doesn’t speak at first, instead moving to stand beside me at the railing.
We stand there in silence, the distant hum of the party muffled by the glass doors. The tension between us is palpable, a coiled spring waiting to snap.
