Carolina's lips curved into a perfect, practiced smile. The kind that screamed high society grace—but underneath, she was a storm waiting to explode.
The guests were watching. Whispers floated around them like poison in the air. She couldn't cause a scene.
Not yet.
So instead of pulling away, she leaned in, her breath warm against Alexander's ear.
"Enjoy this while it lasts, Malvern," she whispered, her voice sweet as honey, sharp as a blade.
His grip on his champagne glass tightened. Barely noticeable—but she caught it.
"You think you have me?" She let out a soft laugh, tilting her head like a woman deeply in love. A perfect illusion.
"I'm only here because I don't have a choice. But make no mistake—this isn't over."
She stepped back slightly, her smile still in place, eyes burning with silent rebellion.
Alexander studied her, his dark gaze filled with something she couldn't quite place. Annoyance? Amusement? A challenge?
Then, he did something that sent a shiver down her spine.
He smirked.
"Oh, Carolina," he murmured, taking her hand gently. To the outside world, it was a romantic gesture. To her, it was a warning.
He brought her fingers to his lips and kissed them lightly.
"Fight all you want, sweetheart," he said softly, but his eyes were deadly serious. "But in the end, you'll realize—you're exactly where you belong."
The crowd clapped, mistaking their silent war for a lover's moment.
But Carolina?
She knew better.
And she wasn't backing down.