20. CHAPTER 18 #2
His hand stayed at the small of my back, as he guided us back into the waltz without missing a beat. The crowd adjusted automatically, as if this had been rehearsed.
I forced my lungs to remember their job. “I thought you’d left,” I managed, my voice sounding smaller than I’d liked.
He eased back until he could see my face properly, his hand never leaving the small of my back.
“What sort of husband would I be if I left my newly wedded wife hanging?” His smirked. “It would be… inelegant. And I have a reputation to maintain.”
I hated that my pulse reacted to his voice before my brain could object.
He pulled me closer, and heat crawled under my skin. Not the good kind.
“You didn’t answer the question,” I snapped, my voice lower and nervous. “I want to know where you—”
“You want to know if I’m as reckless as your brother,” he interrupted, speaking so quietly it drew me in. “Or if I’m as easily distracted as your father.”
The words caught in my throat. My fury, so hot a second ago, suddenly felt like it was hitting a wall of ice.
Was he weaponizing my own family against my temper?
“I am neither.”
Before I could regain my footing, his moved his hand from my waist. The adjustment wasn’t gentle, it felt more of a directive than anything else.
He tightened his hold, his palm flat on my lower back, and physically pivoted me into a sequence so complex it demanded my total focus just to stay upright.
He wasn’t trying to guide me through the dance. He was taking command of it entirely.
“Your feet are lagging,” he breathed, his gaze finally dropping to mine, assessing me. He didn’t look at me as though we’d just met, but with the certainty of someone he believed he’d already figured out.
“Focus, wife. The world is watching. If you want to play the part of a Kade, you’ll need to keep up.”
I was still annoyed, but my annoyance had no space to breathe from being smothered by the sheer, cold competence of his lead.
One moment I was a girl with a sharp tongue ready to demand answers; the next, I was being swept across the floor in a stride so long and powerful I had no choice but to cling to him for dear life.
I hated it.
My fingers dug into the fabric of his suit jacket, my breath hitched as he whirled me through the crowd. Heat spread through my body as the hard planes of his torso aligned with every line of mine.
His palm moved from the small of my back up along my spine, slowly and intentionally. The pressure was feather-light, but the path it traced felt indecent. It felt more intimate than it had any right to be in a room full of witnesses.
I could feel his breath near my temple everytime he moved us through another turn.
He was effortlessly disarming me, using the dance to strip away my defenses until my mind went blank, except for muscle memory and his scent.
His scent.
That poison wrapped around me, and lodged itself in my lungs. Confusing, and definitely unwanted.
I forced my eyes away from him, over his shoulder, searching for something—someone—anyone, to latch onto.
Debo caught my gaze from the circle and wiggled his brows in an exaggerated, supportive way. I couldn’t help it; the corner of my mouth lifted upward in a small, traitorous smile.
Orion noticed. I was beginning to suspect nothing escaped his attention.
His hand left my spine, then his fingers slide up to my jaw. Gently. Too gently, for someone like him. He tipped my chin up so I had no choice but to look at him.
“Don’t look at them like that,” he rasped. “They don’t deserve your loyalty.”
My brows knitted. “Excuse me?”
“In this room,” he continued, his dark eyes locked on mine, “I’m the only one you should trust.”
A slow chill traced my spine for reasons entirely unrelated to the air conditioning.
“Why would I trust you?” I asked. “I barely know you.”
“It doesn’t matter,” he held a little firmer, as though it required no explanation. “You’re my wife now, Mrs. Kade.”
It felt like a brand seared into my skin. Permanent and weighted, replacing everything I used to be.
He wasn’t simply giving me his name. He was overwriting the one I’d carried before it. Telling me, without saying it outright, that the girl who belonged to the Fernández family no longer existed. Only this woman—the one in his arms right now—she was all that remained.
I looked into his eyes, searching for a flicker of warmth, but only found a terrifying, cold conviction. He didn't just want my hand in marriage; he wanted to be the only person I saw when I closed my eyes. I could see the wall he was trying to build around me in the name of protection.
“Is that a promise or a threat?” I managed, my voice sounding really small even to my own ears.
His fingers trapped my jaw as his thumb traced the line of my lower lip. The pressure felt less like a caress and more like a public claim. “It’s a reality,” he said under his breath. “The sooner you accept it, the easier the dance will be.”
I tried to glance away, but his fingers tightened with pressure around my chin.
He held my gaze, forcing me to map the curve of his lips, and the daring look in his eyes.
He seemed utterly unbothered by the hundreds of eyes on us, as if the room itself belonged to him, and we were the only two living souls in it.
The music faded out. I heard the last note die and I let out a silent sigh of relief. The faster we can get this evening over with, the better.
“The music’s ended,” I said, hiding my relief, the words feeling like a thin shield. Someone had to acknowledge the dance was over.
His grip around my waist didn’t loosen. If anything, it became tighter.
“You owe me a complete dance,” he said, his voice a low, velvety rasp “The first one didn’t suffice. You spent my time looking at everyone else.”
He didn't ask for permission. He simply dared me to object with a look that made my blood run cold.
I stared at him, shocked, but trying to mask it. “I—”
The next song started. Another slow rhythm kicked in, a little slower, and a little darker than the last. Around us, the world began to move. I'd assumed we’d step back, leave the floor, trade partners. I'd searched for a way out—a chance to dance with Blaise or Debo, anyone who felt like home.
I was very wrong.
He moved us immediately back into motion, guiding my body with infuriating ease, as if every joint and muscle I owned had been re-registered in his name. My hand was still in his, his fingers interlaced with mine so tightly I could feel the ridge of his ring.
His palm dropped lower on my back this time, unapologetic.
I told myself I was only shivering because the air in the room felt colder now. It had nothing to do with the way he held me like he owned me.
And absolutely nothing to do with the frightening way my body reacted to him before my mind could reject him.
He pressed at my lower back to pull me forward, and my hand gripped his shoulder on instinct.
I jerked subtly against his hold, trying to reclaim some distance, silently counting down and waiting for the dance to end so I could put proper space between us again, but he only held me firmer, his hand still indecently low on my back.
A satisfied smirk formed at the corner of his lips, as though my attempt to pull away had amused him.
I might not like the man I’d married. I might actually fear him, and distrust him. But Orion Kade was very, very good at getting what he wanted, and right now, it was clear all he wanted was me.
ORION
Stephen brought the car around to the back entrance as we made our way out, following a few more drinks and the cutting of the cake.
I wasn’t about to deny the girl her vice. Even I wasn’t cold enough to keep her from her own wedding cake. I made sure the sweet tooth got her fix, then I simply watched her say her final goodbyes.
She hugged her friends. I clinked glasses with my boys. Zane made a crass joke about wedding nights I refused to acknowledge.
Finally, we were walking through the stone pillars to where the Bentley Mulsanne idled. A sigh of relief escaped my lips as we made it out into the cool night.
The driver side door opened first; Stephen stepped out, straightened his jacket, and came around to the rear.
I opened her door myself.
Her dress pooled across the leather as she lowered herself into the seat, one hand gathering the train, while the other braced on the upholstery to steady her.
Everything in me clawed to touch her, to help with her train, but I didn’t.
I was barely surviving the hard on I was nursing from that dance.
Keeping my distance was safer. Less detrimental.
I watched her pull the rest of the train in. Her hair had loosened on the side, and a few dark strands clinging to her neck from the humidity of the Paris air.
Then, she pulled the pin holding the rest of it together in one swoop. Her hair fell to her shoulders in a heavy, luscious wave. She turned her face toward me, perhaps wondering why I still hadn't shut the door. Our eyes locked in that moment.
With the dark waves of her hair spilling over her bare shoulders, she looked like pure, unadulterated temptation. The night light caught every strand perfectly, and the sight could have turned a saint to a sinner.
My throat suddenly constricted with the effort of containing what the sight of her—here, looking like that—did to me.
I should have closed the door, walked to the other side, and ask Stephen to drive. I didn’t. And for five whole seconds or maybe more, I simply stood there, staring at the woman I had no business leering over. She was nothing but a truce made flesh. Yet, I couldn't help myself.
I was frozen by the sight of her, and she didn’t look away. Not once. The night air grew heavy with a hunger so brutal I felt it all the way down my spine.
“Madame Kade,” Stephen said with a nod, interrupting the moment.
She flinched almost imperceptibly at the title. I didn’t hold it against her; it felt foreign on my tongue, too.