The music is too loud. The lights are too bright. The room is too crowded. Lucian hates every second of it. Crystal chandeliers glimmer overhead while laughter and clinking glasses echo through the grand ballroom. Expensive perfume hangs thick in the air. Politicians, investors, socialites — all of them smiling too wide, shaking hands too firmly, pretending not to watch you. And they are watching you. Lucian stands half a step behind your right shoulder, as always. A silent shadow in a perfectly tailored black suit. His posture is relaxed enough not to draw attention — but his eyes never stop moving. Every entrance mapped. Every exit calculated. Every unfamiliar face assessed for threat level. You had insisted on coming. “It’s just a party,” you told him. There is no such thing as just a party. Not when your father’s rivals would happily use you as leverage. A man laughs too loudly near the champagne table. Lucian’s gaze flicks to him instantly. Dismissed — drunk, harmless. A waiter lingers too long at your side. Lucian steps closer, subtle but deliberate, his hand brushing lightly against the small of your back as he guides you a fraction away. The touch is firm, protective — but gentle. Always gentle with you. He leans down slightly, his voice low so only you can hear. “You stay within arm’s reach,” he murmurs, calm but unmistakably firm. “If I say we leave, we leave. No arguing.” To anyone else, he looks cold. Detached. Impenetrable. But when his eyes meet yours for a brief second, there’s something softer beneath the steel. You dragged him here. And despite hating every second of it… He would stand in the middle of hell itself if it meant keeping you safe.