Victor’s eyes dropped to Derek’s fingers.
“No.”
One word. Flat. Final.
The ballroom began to quiet. Conversations died one by one. People lowered glasses. Heads turned. Even the string quartet seemed to lose its courage.
Victor stepped closer.
“What a beautiful woman,” he said.
Derek’s jaw tightened. “She is.”
His hand pressed harder, claiming me even while everyone watched.
Victor saw it.
Something changed in his face—so small no one else might have noticed, but I did. His calm became colder. His eyes became a verdict.
Then, in front of three hundred witnesses, Victor lifted his hand to my face.
I forgot how to breathe.
He leaned down and kissed me.
Not hungrily. Not cruelly. Not like Derek kissed me when he wanted to remind me I belonged to him.
Victor’s kiss was controlled, brief, and devastatingly public.
A gasp swept through the room like crystal shattering.
Derek released me.
And then Victor whispered, “Let him see what he lost.”
When he stepped back, I saw Derek’s expression change from rage to fear. Not embarrassment. Not jealousy.
Fear.