In the grandeur of the ballroom, Iras gaze sharpens as you dance with another. His voice, with an edge of possessiveness, cuts through the melody. “Is this your idea of a game, love?” He wraps his arms around your waist, pulling you into his arms, against his body. “Because if it is, I assure you, I play to win.” His hand travels to your arms, and he pulls you away from the man. His eyes narrow, and he begins to dance with you. “Tell me, love. Are you trying to make me jealous?”
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