Page 6 of Picture Perfect

He pulls back slightly, studying my face with an intensity that makes me want to shrink away. But I stand my ground, refusing to let him see how much he truly scares me.

"Like I said, after the wedding," I manage, my voice coming out steadier than I feel. The words are a shield, albeit a flimsy one, but the only defense I have left.

A low chuckle bubbles up from his throat, and his grip tightens, fingers pinching harshly. He's close enough that I can feel the rhythm of his heart, a steady drumbeat that seems to mock my own frantic pulse.

"Fine," he sneers, "but don't think I'm a patient man, Adelaide. You owe me."

The threat in his tone is unmistakable, and fear slices through me, sharp and cold. I squeeze my eyes shut, wishing myself anywhere but here. He dives back in, capturing my lips before I have a moment to take a breath.

I angle my head away, trying to escape the sensation of his mouth against my flesh. My hands are pressed flat against his chest, fingers digging into the fabric of his jacket—desperate for some anchor in the nauseating storm he’s stirring within me.

My thoughts spiral into a vortex of despair. 'After the wedding,' I had said, but the very notion of such a day dawning sends icy fingers of fear clawing up my spine. William and Preston's father have been locked in negotiations like two medieval lords bartering over livestock for over a year now; each discussion about dowries and alliances chipping away at my sense of autonomy, reducing me to nothing more than property to be exchanged.

I press my hands against the cool brick, grounding myself, as I will the future to remain unwritten. With every fiber of my being, I hope against hope that the wedding, that final seal on my fate, will never come to pass. In that darkened corner, under the weight of Preston's expectations, I silently vow to cling to whatever scraps of self-determination I can muster.

"Remember, Adelaide," Preston says into my skin, confident and unchallenged, "you're mine."

His words echo mockingly in the shadows as I shudder with a chill that isn't entirely due to the night air. I know that in this twisted game of power and possession, my moves are limited, but I won't yield so easily. Not yet. Not without a fight.

I turn my eyes to the ceiling, trying desperately to stay still and just let this happen when suddenly, a flicker of movement catches my attention.

My gaze snaps open, and across the hallway, through the sea of shadow and light, I find Draven Roberts. His ice-blue eyes lock onto mine, his expression unreadable. But even from this distance, the intensity in his stare is palpable, cutting through the haze of my dread and stopping my heart cold in my chest.

"Addy," Preston's hot breath fans across my skin.

I can't read his thoughts, couldn't hope to untangle the web of ink and aura that make up the enigma of Draven Roberts. Yet, in that moment, his gaze offers a silent reprieve from the suffocating hold Preston has on me.

"Look at me when I'm talking to you," Preston growls, yanking my chin toward him, but I resist, keeping my eyes on the intruder.

"Ice Princess," Dre's voice cuts through the heavy bass of my heart.

Preston's head whips around, finally realizing we aren't alone.

"Draven," I reply, my voice much steadier than expected. We've never spoken, never been this close before. He raises a sharp eyebrow, crossing his arms and leaning into the wall beside him.

"Everything's fine, Dre," I lie, the words brittle and forced.

"Doesn't look fine from here," he calls back, his stance casual, yet there’s a tension in his shoulders that speaks of coiled strength.

Preston releases me abruptly, throwing me a disgusted look as if I've spoiled his fun. "Roberts," he spits out, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand before turning to face off with the angel of death.

Chapter five

Dre

My jaw clenches as I slink closer, making sure to maintain a discomforting distance. The Ice Princess's eyes flicker with something, a plea or maybe a warning, but I don't bother decoding it.

"Preston," I sneer, reaching out to tuck a rebellious strand of hair behind his girl's ear. "What's the occasion for this private little soirée? I'm hurt there was no invitation."

Preston scoffs, his eyes narrowing at me with a concoction of annoyance and superiority. "Just giving my girlfriend a lesson in manners," he sneers, accentuating the word 'girlfriend' like it's some damn trophy.

I fight the urge to roll my eyes, my focus honing in on the little princess. Our eyes lock for a fleeting moment before she retreats, her gaze dropping to the ground. There's a quiet desperation in her, a fear of the consequences if I decide to stir the pot.

And oh, how tempting that is.

I take a step back, my lips curling into a mocking smile. The tension in the room crackles like an electric current. I can practically feel the power coursing through my veins, the thrill of knowing that I hold their fate in the palm of my hand. Addy's vulnerability only adds fuel to the fire that burns within me, urging me to exploit this opportunity.

Preston thinks he can play this game, but he underestimates me. Underestimates us. He's little more than a bug in my web and he's taken one too many wrong steps.

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