Page 52 of Lords of Ruin: Owned

His words make my breath catch, and I barely have time to respond before a petite red-haired woman appears.

“Right this way, Mr. and Mrs. Beaumont,” she says with a polished smile, her tone respectful as she gestures for us to follow her down a softly lit corridor.

I blink, the words catching me off guard. “Oh, we’re not?—”

Vincent’s hand slides up to rest lightly on my waist, his thumb brushing a slow circle against the fabric of my dress. “Thank you,” he interjects smoothly, his tone casual, though I catch the faintest curve of amusement on his lips.

I glance up at him, my brows knitting together, but his expression betrays nothing other than calm confidence. As the woman moves ahead, I lean closer, lowering my voice. “Did you just let her think we’re married?”

His lips twitch, but he keeps his gaze forward. “It seemed easier than correcting her. Besides...” He glances down at me, his cobalt blue eyes gleaming with mischief. “You wear the title well.”

Heat rushes to my cheeks, and I open my mouth to respond, but the woman stops abruptly and gestures toward a set of grand double doors.

“Your theater awaits,” she says, pushing the doors open to reveal a space that takes my breath away.

The theater is breathtaking, every detail exuding opulence. Plush, oversized leather seats are arranged in intimate pairs, each spaced just enough to make it feel as though the room was designed for the two of us alone. The air carries a faint aroma of buttered popcorn—rich and decadent, not the cheap, synthetic kind—making it impossible not to feel tempted.

I glance around, my heart pounding as I take it all in. “This is... incredible,” I whisper, unable to keep the awe out of my voice.

A waiter has already brought trays of gourmet finger foods: mini sliders, truffle fries, and an elegant charcuterie board. Beside it sits two flutes of champagne, the liquid shimmering under the soft ambient lights.

The screen flickers to life, and the opening sequence ofHeathersbursts into view, bold and colorful. My eyes widen as the familiar intro rolls, and I nearly spill my champagne in my excitement.

“Oh my God,Heathers?” I blurt, turning to Vincent with a grin I can’t hold back. “You… you pickedthis?”

He leans back in his chair, his posture effortlessly relaxed, and smirks. “You mentioned it was your favorite once. I figured I’d see what all the fuss was about.”

“I mentioned it once? Like, forever ago?” My heart skips a beat, warmth blooming in my chest at the idea that he’d remembered something so small.

“Once was enough,” he says, his smirk softening into something deeper. “You light up when you talk about it. I wanted to see that for myself.”

I flush and turn back to the screen, trying to downplay the way his words make my pulse quicken. “Well, consider me impressed. I didn’t think you’d be into ‘teen angst and homicidal boyfriends.’”

“I’m here for the homicidal boyfriend part,” he teases, his voice low and smooth.

I shoot him a playful glare. “You would be.”

The movie unfolds, and as the lines and scenes I know by heart play out, I find myself sinking deeper into the moment. Every now and then, I glance at Vincent, expecting to catch him looking bored, but he seems genuinely captivated. He chuckles at the dark humor, smirks at the absurdity, and even leans in to throw a comment my way when something particularly outrageous happens.

During Veronica and J.D.’s infamous croquet scene, he leans closer, his breath warm against my ear. “You’re definitely a Veronica,” he says, his tone light but laced with something that makes my stomach flutter.

“And you’re… what? J.D.?” I quirk an eyebrow, but my pulse is racing at his proximity.

He tilts his head, pretending to consider. “Too obvious. I think I’d rewrite the ending, though. I’d get the girl, and no one would die.”

I laugh, soft and breathy, feeling the heat rise to my cheeks. “Oh, how noble of you.”

“Don’t sound so surprised,” he murmurs, his eyes locking on mine.

For a moment, the movie disappears, the world shrinking to just the two of us. His gaze flickers to my lips, and my breath catches, but instead of closing the distance, he pulls back, reaching for the tray of food.

“Eat something,” he says, breaking the tension with a smirk. “You’ve been too busy quoting the movie to notice.”

“I can’t help it!” I protest, laughing as I grab a truffle fry. “It’sHeathers. You can’t not quote it.”

“Fair,” he concedes, popping a slider into his mouth. “But you’re cute when you get excited. That alone makes this movie worth watching.”

My fry pauses halfway to my mouth as I stare at him. “Are you flirting with me duringHeathers?”

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