Chapter 27 #2
Before I can answer, Theo suddenly goes quiet. That alone is enough to concern me.
I follow his gaze.
Killian.
He's standing near the bar in a perfectly tailored black tuxedo, one hand wrapped around a glass as he laughs at something one of the guests has said. Even from across the room, his confidence seems effortless.
"...Well."
I glance at him. "What?"
He continues staring toward the bar.
Aurelia notices immediately. "...Theo?"
He blinks once before pointing discreetly toward Killian. "Babe... has your brother always looked like that?"
Aurelia bursts into laughter. "Yes."
"You could've warned me."
"I assumed you had functioning eyesight."
"I did not realize he cleaned up this well."
Aurelia smirks. "I suddenly understand why you're so interested in the bar."
Theo straightens immediately. "I have no idea what you're implying."
"Mhm."
"I am simply appreciating exceptional tailoring."
I glance between the two of them. "That's what we're calling it?"
Theo doesn't even attempt to deny it. "Strong shoulders. Good posture." He pauses. "...Very distracting."
Aurelia laughs harder. "Oh, this is going to be fun."
He places a hand over his heart. "That jawline could cut diamonds."
I laugh into my glass. "You cannot be serious."
"I have never been more serious in my entire life."
Aurelia shakes her head. "Theo... Killian likes girls."
"I heard you."
"And?"
"And nothing." He shrugs innocently. "I can admire beautiful architecture without attempting to purchase the building."
I snort. "That might be the weirdest thing you've ever said."
"It was poetic."
"It was concerning."
Almost on cue, Killian glances in our direction. He notices the three of us immediately. More importantly… He notices Theo openly staring.
Excusing himself from his conversation, he walks over with an amused smile.
"I've got two possibilities." Killian says as he reaches us. "Either someone was complimenting me..." His gaze settles on Theo. "...or someone was gossiping."
Theo smiles sweetly. "Why can't it be both?"
Killian laughs. "I walked into a dangerous conversation."
Aurelia pinches the bridge of her nose. "Oh, no."
"Should I be worried?" Killian says while glancing between us.
"I don't know." Theo says, looking him up and down with exaggerated consideration. "Have you always had eyelashes like that?"
Killian blinks. "...I'm sorry?"
"The eyelashes." Theo repeats. "They're unfair."
A laugh escapes Killian. "I've been complimented on a lot of things."
"But not your eyelashes?"
"Never."
Theo sighs dramatically. "Criminal."
Aurelia groans, already shaking her head. "I am not encouraging this."
I can't help laughing. "You don't really have a choice."
Killian smiles, clearly amused. "I've decided I like him."
Theo places a hand over his heart. "Babe, that is exactly what I was hoping to hear."
The group settles back into easy conversation before attention gradually shifts toward the celebration unfolding around us.
Guests drift back onto the dance floor, waiters weave effortlessly between tables with trays of champagne, and the orchestra eases into another song that fills the ballroom beneath the glow of crystal chandeliers.
My gaze wanders across the room until it finds Keith.
For the first time since I can remember, he looks completely at peace. One hand rests at Aurelia's waist as they move together across the dance floor, oblivious to the hundreds of guests surrounding them. She looks up at him with a smile so openly in love it almost hurts to witness.
Watching my brother like this fills me with a quiet sense of relief. He spent so many years carrying the weight of an empire that I'd almost forgotten he deserved happiness too.
My attention wanders through the room. Anton has somehow managed to gather another crowd around himself, effortlessly charming everyone within earshot. Declan and Hazel dance together near the edge of the floor while Steven and Vanya talk quietly with a few guests.
Then I see him.
Nico stands alone near one of the tall windows overlooking the sea, dressed entirely in black yet again.
The ballroom buzzes with conversation, yet he somehow seems separate from all of it.
A glass of champagne rests loosely between his fingers, untouched, while his gaze drifts across the room with practiced indifference. Until it finds mine.
Something in my chest tightens. He doesn't smile or look away. He simply watches me with that unreadable expression he's worn ever since we returned from the island.
He quietly sets his champagne glass onto a passing tray and starts walking toward me. Every sensible part of me tells me to disappear into the crowd before he reaches me. Instead, I stay exactly where I am.
He stops only when there's barely a step between us.
Up close, the formal suit looks almost as unnatural on him as the island had.
Gone are the bloodstained clothes and makeshift bandages, replaced by crisp tailoring and polished shoes, yet somehow he still carries himself like a man who's constantly assessing every exit.
"You've been avoiding me." He says quietly.
I fold my arms, forcing my expression into something far more composed than I feel. "I've been busy."
His gaze lingers on mine, patient enough to make me uncomfortable. Then the corner of his mouth lifts ever so slightly.
"No." He says. "You've been watching me."
I hold his gaze without blinking. "So have you."
"I wasn't denying it."
The honesty catches me off guard.
For a few seconds, neither of us speaks. Then Nico holds out his hand. "May I have this dance?"
I look at his hand longer than I should. "This feels like a terrible idea."
"It probably is."
"You don't sound very convincing."
"I'm not trying to convince you."
A reluctant smile threatens to appear. "One dance."
His fingers close gently around mine. "One dance."
He leads me onto the dance floor just as Until I Found You begins drifting through the ballroom.
His hand settles lightly against my waist, leaving just enough space that I could step away if I wanted to.
I rest my hand on his shoulder, painfully aware of how familiar standing this close to him already feels.
I tell myself it means nothing. The thought doesn't survive the first few steps.
We move slowly with the music, surrounded by dozens of other couples, yet the rest of the ballroom gradually fades into little more than blurred lights and distant voices. Every now and then our eyes meet, only for one of us to look away a second too late.
"You clean up well." I say eventually, searching for something that feels safer than silence. "I wasn't sure you owned a suit."
A quiet laugh escapes him. "I own several."
"I pictured you living exclusively in black tactical gear."
"I considered wearing that."
I can't help smiling. "I believe you."
His gaze drops briefly to the tuxedo before returning to me. "Keith's doing."
"He picked your suit?"
"He insisted."
"I have to admit..." My eyes travel over the perfectly tailored black tuxedo. "He has good taste."
"The man is surprisingly persuasive."
"And here I thought you didn't take orders."
"I don't." A faint smile tugs at the corner of his mouth. "I made an exception."
His eyes linger on mine for a moment. "You look beautiful."
The words are spoken so simply that they steal every prepared response from my mind.
I clear my throat and glance away. "The dress helps."
"No." His voice is calm, almost matter-of-fact. "The dress doesn't make you beautiful."
Heat creeps into my cheeks despite myself.
I focus on the orchestra, on the other couples dancing around us, on anything except the way he's looking at me. "You've become generous."
He doesn't answer immediately.
When he finally speaks, his voice is quieter. "You never talk about Sebastian."
The question catches me off guard. I look back at him. "Where did that come from?"
"You mention everyone else. But not him."
I let out a quiet laugh, though there isn't much humor in it. "Is that what's been bothering you?"
"I'm making conversation."
"No." I shake my head. "You're doing that thing again."
"What thing?"
"You ask questions that sound innocent, but they're never really about what you're asking."
He doesn't deny it. "He's your fiancé."
"I know."
"You don't sound particularly excited when you talk about him."
For half a beat, I miss the rhythm of the dance. "You don't get to comment on my engagement."
I hold his gaze for a minute. "Why?"
This time, he doesn't answer. His eyes remain fixed on mine, as though he's searching for something I'm not ready to give him. The silence stretches long enough that I already know there isn't going to be an honest answer.
That realization stings more than I expect.