Chapter 4 - The Predator’s BallThe ballroom was a masterpiece of intimidation disguised as elegance.
As Roman led Thea through the glittering crowd, the parting of the guests resembled Moses dividing the sea. Powerful men in custom suits inclined their heads respectfully as Roman passed, their eyes darting nervously toward Thea before snapping quickly back to the floor.
“Drink?” Roman asked smoothly, signaling a passing waiter carrying a silver tray of crystal flutes.
“Just sparkling water, please,” Thea murmured, trying to keep her posture straight and her breathing steady.
Roman took a glass of champagne for himself and handed the sparkling water to her. He kept his hand firmly positioned at her waist, a constant, grounding anchor amid the swirling sea of sharks.
“Mr. Vulov.”
A tall, silver-haired man with sharp eyes and an expensive diamond lapel pin approached them, smiling with a mouth that didn't reach his eyes. It was Senator Harrison, a man whose face frequently graced national news broadcasts for his hardline stance on corporate regulation.
“Harrison,” Roman replied, his voice flat, cold, and entirely devoid of warmth. He did not extend a hand.
The senator’s smile faltered for a fraction of a second before he smoothly pivoted his attention toward Thea, bowing slightly. “And who is this lovely, radiant guest? I don’t believe I’ve had the pleasure of seeing you at previous charity galas, my dear.”
Before Thea could open her mouth to introduce herself, Roman stepped a fraction of an inch closer, his shoulder subtly blocking the senator’s line of sight while his icy gray eyes narrowed into dangerous slits.
“Her name is Miss Sinclair, Harrison,” Roman said, each word weighted with leaden ice. “And she is not a subject for your polite evening inquiries. Go find your wife by the buffet before I lose my patience with your conversational stamina.”
Senator Harrison’s face turned pale. He swallowed hard, forced a stiff, awkward nod, and retreated into the crowd without another word.
Thea let out a breath she didn't realize she was holding, looking up at Roman with a mixture of disbelief and amusement. “You didn't have to be quite so harsh. He was just trying to be polite.”
“He wasn't being polite. He was fishing for leverage,” Roman said, his tone unwavering as he looked down at her. “Nobody gets to question you, interrogate you, or look at you with curiosity in this room. You belong to my evening, Thea.”
The possessiveness in his voice should have terrified her. It should have sent alarm bells ringing through her mind, warning her to run back to her quiet library books and safe, predictable life. Instead, a warm, dangerous thrill pooled deep in her stomach.
“You treat everyone like an enemy target, don’t you?” she asked softly, taking a sip of her water.
“Only until they prove otherwise,” Roman replied. A faint, rare hint of softness touched his features as he looked down at her. “Except for you. You walked right through my defenses without even trying.”
Before Thea could reply, the string quartet on the elevated dais began to play a slow, sweeping waltz. The gentle, melancholy notes echoed through the cavernous ballroom, and several couples drifted out onto the marble dance floor.
Roman set his champagne glass down on a passing tray, turned fully toward her, and extended his hand, palm up.
“Dance with me, Thea,” he requested. It wasn't an order, but it brooked no argument.
Thea looked down at his large, steady hand, then up into his striking gray eyes. Her heart did a frantic flip in her chest. “Roman... I don’t know how to waltz. I’ll step all over your shoes.”
“Then I’ll let you,” he murmured, a genuine, ghost-like smile touching his lips. “Trust me.”
Slowly, hesitantly, she placed her hand in his.
Roman pulled her seamlessly against his chest as they stepped out onto the polished marble floor. The moment his arm wrapped securely around her waist, drawing her flush against his tall, solid frame, the rest of the ballroom seemed to dissolve into a distant blur.
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He moved with effortless grace, guiding her through the intricate steps of the dance with absolute mastery. Thea found herself following his lead instinctively, her eyes locked onto his, her breath mingling with his in the quiet space between them.
For the first time in her life, the invisible librarian felt entirely, undeniably seen.
