Empire of Lies and Flames (Ruins of Power #1)

Chapter 10

JAVIER

All I wanted to do was to strangle Luther right there, to tear his hand off Renée’s shoulder and throw him across the room. He had no business laying even a finger on her, let alone pinning her there with that smirk plastered on his face. The whole scene grated against every nerve in my body, and it was taking all my control not to let loose right here, right now. I stepped forward, deliberately placing myself between them.

He gave me a disdainful look. “And who might you be?” he spat, as if the idea of someone protecting Renée was inconceivable.

“Javier,” I said, my voice steady but laced with a warning, pulling Renée toward me and out of his grip. “Renée’s partner.” I met her eyes, giving her a reassuring look, and for a moment, the fire in her softened, and for a heartbeat, I caught a glimpse of something like relief in her eyes.

I leaned in, voice lowering for her alone. “You alright?”

She nodded, swallowing as she whispered, “Yes, thank you.” And just like that, her hand slipped into mine, a small gesture, but it anchored me, giving me a reason not to lose my head and do something... irrational.

I pulled her away, guiding her into a quieter corner of the dance floor. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Luther watching us, muttering something under his breath, but I didn’t care. All that mattered was getting her away from him and making sure she was okay.

Once we reached a safe distance, I pulled her close, probably closer than I should have, but I couldn’t help it. I needed her to feel... safe. I needed her to know that with me here, no one would cross her boundaries. Not even scum like Luther.

The song changed, a slower rhythm winding through the air, and before either of us could think better of it, we moved together, caught up in the rhythm. The soft notes filled the space between us, but the tension was still there, lingering like a tangible thing.

Renée lifted a brow, amusement sparking in her eyes. “Looks like I’ve managed to make your night worse,” she teased, “since I’m making you dance.”

I smirked, meeting her gaze as I slid my hand to the small of her back, pulling her just a bit closer. “I’ve had worse nights.” I shrugged as though unaffected, though her nearness was anything but casual. “Besides, some things are worth a little hassle.” She was close enough that I could feel her heartbeat stutter, the rise and fall of her chest quickening.

She glanced up at me. “You sure? I thought you hated… everything about this,” she said.

“Guess there are exceptions,” I murmured, holding her gaze. That defiant spark was back in her eyes, the one I’d found myself looking for time and again. As her hips swayed in time with mine, I couldn’t help but wonder if she could feel it, too—that strange, undeniable pull between us. My hand pressed lightly against her back, steadying her, but also keeping her just close enough to feel the fire beneath her cool demeanor. And if I was honest? I wasn’t sure I wanted this dance to end.

I searched her face, unable to stop myself from asking, “Are you sure you’re alright?”

Her eyes flicked away, as if trying to shake off my concern. “Yes,” she said, her tone almost dismissive. But I saw the faint tension still lingering in her gaze. “Thank you for stepping in. Really. I was… It was getting uncomfortable.”

I shrugged, fighting back the urge to go back and let Luther know exactly how uncomfortable I could make his life. “I couldn’t just stand there and watch him—watch you feel like that. I’m not about to let anyone make you uncomfortable, Renée. You deserve better.”

My hands slid over her back, my fingers tracing the silky fabric of her gown as I pulled her closer, unable to resist the way her body felt against mine. Every inch of her pressed into me, each beat of the music pulling me deeper under, making it harder to hold myself back. I dipped her low, feeling her grip tighten as she let herself fall into the movement, her confidence searing. She knew exactly what that dress did to me, how it clung to her in all the right places, daring me to keep control.

A soft, dry laugh slipped from her lips, tugging me back from the edge. “You know,” she said, her voice playful, but there was something softer beneath it. “For someone who supposedly hates me, you’re awfully kind.”

“Hate you?” I scoffed, barely managing to keep my voice steady as I met her gaze. “I don’t hate you, Renée. If anything, you’re the one who hates me.”

She shook her head, and for a moment, that usual fire in her eyes softened. “I don’t hate you…” she whispered.

“Liar,” I murmured, my voice low, barely audible above the music. She stiffened in my arms, her jaw setting, that defiance I knew so well returning with force.

“What makes you think that?” she shot back.

I shrugged, doing my best to keep my tone casual. “It’s obvious. You avoid me, glare at me every time we’re forced to work together, and your friends? They’re not exactly subtle about what they think of me.” I let the words hang between us, studying her, hoping to catch even the smallest hint that she’d let her walls down, even for a moment.

She took a breath, and frustration flickered across her face. “Well,” she muttered, her voice rough with something unsaid, “Maybe you’re right. Maybe I do hate you.” Her gaze slipped away; her words laced with a reluctance that suggested more lay beneath.

“Why?” I pressed, pulling her a fraction closer, not willing to let the moment fade away. “What exactly did I do to earn your hatred, Renée?”

She shook her head with a dry, almost bitter laugh. “We don’t have time to get into it,” she said, her eyes darting to my watch, sidestepping my question.

“I’ve got all night,” I replied. I hadn’t planned to dig this deep, not here, not like this, but I wasn’t about to let her slip away now.

She scoffed, rolling her eyes in that infuriating way she did. “Well, I don’t,” she snapped. “My feet hurt, and I’d like nothing more than to get out of this dress.”

Her words, whether she realized it or not, only stoked the fire. I felt my gaze slip over her, lingering shamelessly on the lines of that gown, and the way it hugged her body made it nearly impossible to keep control. “Then let’s head back.”

“Fine,” she muttered, exasperated, but then paused, shooting me a sideways look. “But I need a drink first.”

We drifted off the dance floor to the bar, where she ordered a sangria and I stuck with scotch. I raised my glass, smirking. “To your hatred of me,” I said, watching the way her eyes narrowed as she tossed back her drink, unbothered. Her defiance was something I couldn’t resist, the fire in her refusing to dim no matter what I threw at her.

We left without another word to anyone, silence settling over us as we stepped outside. She shivered as the cold air swept over us, and before I could think twice, I shrugged off my jacket and draped it over her shoulders, my fingers brushing against her bare arms as I adjusted the fabric. She tensed, caught off guard, but for one heartbeat, I could feel her leaning in, allowing the warmth to settle around her. Just as quickly, though, she stiffened, pulling the jacket tight, as if rejecting the comfort, I offered.

We walked in silence, the occasional brush of her hand against mine sending sparks down my spine. Her presence alone stirred something I hadn’t felt in years. Images of our dance lingered in my mind, the way our hands had intertwined, the perfect alignment of our bodies moving together, echoing in every step we took. No matter how hard I tried to shake it, the pull between us was undeniable, something even she couldn’t pretend away.

Halfway to the hotel, I broke the silence. “So,” I murmured, glancing at her, “Tell me—why do you hate me so much?”