Lucius's smile widens, like he's reading every thought I'm trying to strangle into silence.
Before I can gather myself enough to tell him to fuck off politely, the lights dim, signaling everyone to get to their seats.
Shit.
Lucius releases my arm with a slight bow, almost mocking in its elegance.
"Go on," he murmurs. "Your prince awaits."
"He's not my—"
"I'll be watching," he cuts in, his voice low enough to brush the shell of my ear. "Try not to die of secondhand embarrassment."
I elbow him before I can stop myself, and his smile turns wolfish—like he enjoys my harassment.
Rocco materializes at my side so abruptly that I startle slightly. "Ophelia," he says, voice steady after years of conditioning. "It's time."
Lucius has already disappeared, and my chest is filled with anxiety as I let Rocco guide me into the main hall.
