Page 144 of Picture Perfect

"Leave it to me." I snag a tart from the tray and bring it to her lips. "Open up."

She giggles, a sound that's music to my ears, and obediently bites into the tart I hold for her. It's a moment of normalcy in a night that's anything but, and I savor it as much as she savors the flavors bursting on her tongue.

"Delicious," she declares, licking a crumb from her lip, and I have to resist the urge to kiss it away.

"Only the best for you tonight," I assure her, my gaze locked on hers, hoping she understands that it's not just about the food—it's about every second we spend side by side, defying the world together.

"Thank you, Saint," she says softly, leaning into me. "For everything."

"Always, Princess," I reply, my heart thundering against my ribs. "You know I've got you."

And as we continue to accept well-wishes and wade through the throng of admirers, I make sure that my presence is felt—not just by her, but by everyone here. Because tonight, Princess isn't just the girl who came from nothing. She's everything—and I'll make damn sure they all see it.

As we navigate the sea of guests, I spot Dre and Chess on the periphery. They're like shadows, just out of sight but never out of reach. There's something predatory in their stance, a readiness that speaks of their fierce protection over Princess.

"Chess is giving someone the stink-eye," I mutter to her, my hand firmly against the curve of her spine.

"Probably Preston," she whispers back, her eyes scanning the room with a wariness that has become all too familiar. She's a fortress—beautiful and unyielding—but tonight, the walls seem just a bit higher.

"Let him try anything," I growl, the thought alone making my blood hot with anger. "I'll put him in his place."

She smiles up at me, gratitude mingling with the fire in her green eyes. "I know you will, Saint. But let's not give them the satisfaction tonight."

"Agreed." I press a quick kiss to her temple, reassuring us both.

We continue through the crowd, the false pleasantries washing over us like waves against rock, until we stand before the Winthrops. Their gazes cut colder than any blade, and it takes everything in me not to react.

"Congratulations, Adelaide," William grinds out through clenched teeth. "You've certainly... ascended beyond our expectations."

Princess stands tall, her chin lifted in defiance. "Thank you, Father. Saint will be a wonderful partner."

"Partner," Wesley echoes, the word dripping with scorn. "Is that what you think you're getting out of this charade?"

"It's exactly what she's getting. Legacy isn't just about bloodlines," I interject smoothly, feeling Princess's slight tremble under my fingertips. "It's about what you build. And together, we're building something extraordinary."

Their smiles are tight, almost pained, and I can tell they're itching to wipe ours off our faces. But they don't know Princess like I do. They don't see the steel beneath her silk exterior.

"Indeed," William says, his tone laced with insincerity. "We look forward to seeing what the future holds for our dear daughter and her... betrothed."

"Expect greatness," Princess replies, her voice steady even as her hand grips mine like a lifeline.

"Absolutely," I add, sharing a look with her that says we're onto their game.

As we move past them, I feel her exhale, a subtle release of tension. I tighten my grip, silently promising her that no matter what they throw at us, we'll face it together. And right now, that means savoring the victory of standing our ground amidst the enemy.

The music shifts to a slower melody, a beckoning call that I can't ignore. I glance at Princess, her eyes reflecting the chandelier's light like stars caught in hazel orbits. A smile tugs at her lips, an unspoken agreement passing between us.

"Come on," I say, voice low, as I lead her to the dance floor. The crowd parts for us, some with genuine smiles, others with envy or disdain poorly veiled behind champagne flutes and false laughs. But none of it matters when my hands find her waist and pull her close.

"Saint," she breathes out, her fingers trailing up my arms before resting around my neck. "I can't believe I did that."

"Believe it." I spin her gently, reveling in the way she fits against me, natural and right. "You were incredible back there. I'm so proud of you, Princess."

Her cheeks flush with a warmth that lights up the room. "Just following your lead."

I lean in, my lips hovering near her ear. "Can't wait to get you home," I murmur, my voice thick with a promise. "And out of that dress."

A shiver runs through her, and she giggles, the sound mingling with the soft strings of the music. "Behave, Mr. Saint, we're in public."

---