Chapter Thirty
Chloe
Accepting his arm meant more than just walking into a party; it was agreeing to be a part of whatever he had planned for me tonight.
I knew what I was to him. A pawn, a piece in his vendetta, something he could move at his will. He had made that clear at the moment he took me into his world. His protection didn’t come for free, and his plans were always a mystery.
That terrified me more than anything.
“Look at me,” he commanded.
I lifted my eyes to his, the weight of his gaze pinning me in place. There was something there, something restrained as if he was battling a war with himself too.
“I would never let anyone hurt you, si?”
Part of me recoiled at the promise I wasn’t sure I could trust. But the other part, the other part, had never been dressed like a princess or invited to a ball. The other part had never been anyone’s first choice before, and because of that, that part didn’t want to let him down.
Before I could rethink it, my hand somehow came to rest on his arm, accepting whatever he had planned for me.
The warmth of his skin bled through the fabric, steadying me in ways I didn’t expect. “Okay.”
We descended the stairs, Zane guiding me through the sea of guests, his hand a firm, possessive weight on the small of my back.
As we moved through the crowd, heads turned, conversations dipped, and eyes locked onto us with a mix of curiosity and intrigue.
Some faces I recognized from social media or television, others I didn’t, but it was clear that everyone knew Zane by the way their eyes either filled with admiration or dropped in fear as we passed by.
Even in a room full of the city’s elite, Zane was the main attraction, and I… I was just a curiosity on his arm.
Every now and then, he would stop to exchange a few words with someone—a politician here, a business tycoon there—but he never left my side, his presence a silent warning to anyone thinking of approaching me.
Then he hovered for a moment, scanning the crowd as he snagged a flute of Champagne from a passing server and handed it to me.
I accepted it and brought it to my lips, letting the crisp bubbles pop against my tongue, hoping the alcohol would help ease the nerves tightening in my stomach.
“Stay here,” he whispered into my ear before I could fully savor the drink.
With that, he disappeared like a ghost, vanishing into the crowd.
All of a sudden, the stares at me seemed to be amplifying in every direction. I felt exposed, vulnerable without him by my side, but it was the irritation flaring in my chest that made my feet move, refusing to take his orders, and I went chasing after him.
The music faded behind me as I stepped into an open hallway that didn’t seem to be decorated like the rest of the party was.
He’d stopped beside two other men and I ducked, pressing myself behind a cold marble pillar, praying my breathing wouldn’t give me away.
Now, I was wishing I hadn’t done this. What was I thinking?
The two men looked older than Zane, both looking the kind of men who bought islands for fun and made people disappear for breathing wrongly.
I strained to catch their voices, forcing my ears to catch every word, though they spoke in foreign languages now and then.
“My men are in position, cameras are recording, tonight better not be another waste of our time,” one of them muttered, his accent strong.
They didn’t look like Zane’s family. Maybe associates? Allies? Whatever they called themselves.
“It won’t be,” Zane’s voice replied, cool and assured. “She’s leverage, a message. Everyone just needs to know who has her. She’s mine.”
My blood iced over. Zane brought me here to provoke.
The other man gave a low chuckle, almost cruel. “And if she turns out not to be that important?”
“Then she won’t stay mine for long, and we go back to the initial plan,” Zane said evenly.
Then the man spoke something in a language I couldn’t identify, but it sounded like a question.
“I’m willing to trade if that’s what it takes.”
Zane answered whatever the man had asked, and my breath hitched.
Trade me? Now? He wouldn’t…he couldn’t…would he?
Panic crawled up my throat. I needed to get out of here before they saw me.
But before I could move, a brutal hand clamped around my arm and wrenched me around, dragging me out from behind the pillar and into the open.
“Let go of me!” I snapped, trying to shove him off. But he was already dragging me forward, pushing me toward the space where Zane and the others were already watching.
Zane’s jaw clicked. He wasn’t happy.
“Well, well. This is her?” One of Zane’s friends asked, too amused, as if he already knew the answer.
“Beautiful thing indeed,” the other man sneered, stepping in close and lifting my chin with thick fingers. “Come on. Give me one round with her, and I’ll return her singing like a bird.”
My eyes widened in horror as the heat of his hand started to burn me like acid.
“She won’t interest you,” Zane said coolly, adjusting his collar like it had suddenly gotten too tight. “She’s too soft and boring.”
I didn’t know what sickened me more, the stranger’s touch or Zane’s words.
“She doesn’t look too boring for an American...” The man mused, running his gaze lasciviously down my body, as if he was cataloguing something he may want to buy. I knew that look too well.
Zane stepped forward, his hand shooting out, grabbing the man’s wrist and bending it back, forcing him away from me.
The man’s smirk twitched, the only sign pain was creeping up his face.
“Non si tocca ciò che non è tuo.” Zane’s voice dropped to a hostile near-growl. “Didn’t your father teach you not to touch what isn’t yours, Tullio?” he added in English. “She’s under my family’s protection.”
Only after finishing, Zane allowed him to take back his hurt arm.
“Protection or possession?” Tullio asked pointedly, rubbing at his reddened wrist. “There’s a difference, my friend.” He dared to add.
“You think I brought her here to entertain you?” Zane snapped back. “She’s part of the plan and no one but me touches her. Have your man standing by for my signal, or your old man will know where your interests truly lie.”
Tullio’s smile faltered. His gaze lingered on me, then flicked back to Zane.
“Very well,” he muttered, stepping back before turning to leave. The other two men in the room followed him out.
The room felt heavier once they were gone. Zane’s eyes cut to me, but I didn’t wait for him to speak. I spun on my heel and started walking away as fast as I could.
My heart was in my throat as I slipped back into the main room, not really seeing anything anymore.
Music thumped in the air again, Champagne glasses clinking, laughter floating in the air. Everyone clueless that they were surrounded by criminals and this party could be their last.
My breaths turned ragged, my heart pounding with the music. For a moment, I considered slipping into the crowd, running out the door, and disappearing somewhere he’d never find me. But the thought barely formed before a hand clamped around my wrist, yanking me back.
Zane dragged me behind a marble pillar and slammed his palm above my head, caging me in, away from the crowd’s eyes. His breath hot with fury, matching my own.
“I told you to wait,” he hissed.
“And I told you I’m not your damn pet!”
“Why the fuck do you keep pushing yourself into danger?”
“Me?” I spat. “You’re the one dressing me up like a goddamn appetizer to use me to heal your fucking ego!”
His eyes narrowed and my chest rose and fell as I fought for breath.
Silence stretched, our ragged breathing tangled together, thickening the air between us.
“I’m not a toy, Zane. I just wanted you to tell me, for once, what was going on. But you never do. You keep dragging me into places that feel like traps. Saying things that only confuse me. Acting like I don’t get a say in what happens to me… And that’s not right.”
I swallowed the lump clawing up my throat.
I gave him time to answer, but he said nothing.
“I’m done with this. I’ll wait in the car.”
I shoved his hands off my waist and pushed past the crowd, weaving through the blur of glittering dresses and waltzing bodies.
But before I could make it ten steps, he caught me again.
This time, spinning me until I collided with his chest like we were in the middle of a dance move.
“Let go!” I gritted out, pushing against him, hard, but his grip only tightened.
The music welled around us, and he pinned me there.
“Let go of me, you idiot!” I hissed, but my words lacked conviction. The heat from his body was making my resistance weaken.
“Not until you listen,” Zane’s breath was warm against my skin, sending an involuntary shiver through me. “I’m not treating you like a toy. I’m protecting what’s mine.”
I stiffened at his words.
“What, because you paid to have me?” I spat, my voice bitter, still remembering his cold words.
“No, Chloe,” his voice turned so low and husky that my entire being sharpened to attention. “Not because I paid for you. Because I’m trying to keep you safe, even if it doesn’t always seem like it.”
I looked up at him, searching his face for any hint of dishonesty, but there was none. It was the first time he’d said something that sounded almost… sweet.
His confession had caught me off guard, and a pang of something unfamiliar twisted in my chest.
“…Zane,” I said, breathing low, my own voice softer now too as I pushed some space between us, and this time, he let me. “You keep secrets. You make decisions for me and leave me in the dark. How am I supposed to trust you when you don’t talk to me? Trust is a two-way street.”
“Hm,” he let out a sound from his nose as if he was actually considering what I was saying for the first time. “I’ll try.”
Somehow, it felt like a small victory.
“Now, dance with me.”
My eyes lifted, meeting his piercing blue ones. “Can you even dance?”
“No,” he admitted, his smirk deepening. “But I’d do anything to put my hands on you tonight.”
My breath caught.
I tilted my head down, hoping to again hide the way my lips curved up despite myself, but Zane had already noticed. He always did.
He extended his hand, and before I could think, my fingers betrayed me, slipping into his palm as if they belonged there.
He pulled me in, our bodies aligning effortlessly, moving together as if they had done this before.
Right on cue, the opening notes of the song ‘Never Let Me Go’ by Florence + the Machine’ started.
One hand settled at the small of my back, the other guiding mine with precision.
The moment our fingers connected, the spark reached my heart in nanoseconds, making my blood circulate at an impossible speed, stimulating my heart and everything in between.
Every time he touched me, my body reacted the same way.
The first steps were careful, as if he was studying my body and the way it moved with him. Zane was a precise man, who took control in everything he did, and dancing was no different.
Around us, the world seemed to blur into muted colors and indistinct faces until there was only the music, only the feeling of his hand on me, only the way my heart gave myself away with each beat.
Then, the first drop of the song hit.
In one swift motion, he spun me away from him, our hands the only tether. The room twisted around me, before he pulled me back, hard.
I crashed against him, breathless.
Moving seamlessly, he turned us again, carrying us across the dance floor like we were the only two people there.
A turn. A spin. And suddenly, I was closer.
Too close.
He was intoxicating, and aware of the effect he had on me, yet, he was in no rush to claim it.
I rested my head on his chest, letting the scent of him envelop me, allowing myself to melt into him, to be swept away by the music and the way he held me.
I’d never waltzed before, but with him in the lead, I didn’t have to think about it. His movements were sure and steady, guiding us effortlessly across the floor. In fact, he was the first man I danced like this… like they do in the movies.
Between the song’s ending and a new one beginning, the world around us was slowly returning.
“I feel like everyone keeps staring at us.”
“Can you blame them?” he replied, and I lifted my head from his chest to search his eyes. “You make everyone else feel lesser, like there’s no one else here but you.”
“Everyone?” I teased, nestling my head back against his chest, smiling to myself and feeling like a teenager.
He didn’t answer, but something told me he was smirking too.
I was playing a dangerous game with a man who could break me in half if he wanted to without a second thought, and despite the danger, I couldn’t bring myself to pull away.
For all the things that were wrong about all this, there was something undeniably right about being in his arms.
I’d been wondering what it was about Zane that made him different, and maybe this was it. Maybe it was the power he had to be bad but all those times he chose to be good instead.
This was proof.
Proof that beneath all the destruction, all the cruelty, he was still capable of kindness.
‘Part of him is still just that boy who lost his parents too soon.’ Clarisse’s words echoed in my mind.
It wasn’t an excuse for his many wrongs, but it explained the man he was—dangerous, deeply broken, trying to survive in the only way he knew how.
In many ways, he wasn’t so different from me.
Maybe that was the real danger.
That I wasn’t afraid of him breaking me.
I was afraid that, in the end, I wouldn’t want him to stop.