Sam's POV
The sounds of the party in the distance—clinking glasses, elegant orchestral music, polite laughter—gradually faded into the background as I approached the secluded rest room at the end of the west corridor. I needed a moment away from those judgmental stares and whispers about my relationship with Victor.
Damn, these socialites act like I've committed some cardinal sin just because I'm on Victor's arm. As if dating someone from a rival family is more scandalous than the affairs they're hiding.
Just as I was about to knock on the door, a familiar voice froze me in place.
"Sam, it's been a while."
I turned slowly to see Nathan—my ex-boyfriend, wearing a perfectly tailored suit. His expression was deliberately neutral, though I caught a glimpse of what might have been remorse in his eyes.
"Nathan," I responded coldly, crossing my arms over my chest, "what do you want?"
He stepped closer, lowering his voice. "About that text message... I truly had no prior knowledge. I wanted to apologize."
I laughed, the sound harsh and brittle even to my own ears. "So what? Did you give your girlfriend the punishment she deserved? The woman who almost killed me?" I carefully observed his expression, noticing he couldn't quite meet my eyes. "Of course not. You never cared about my safety. A damn snake almost took my life, and to you it was just a minor incident, right?"
"Sam, that's not fair," he protested, his perfectly groomed eyebrows slightly furrowing, "I broke up with Ava after—"
"Shut up, don't talk to me," I cut him off sharply, "or your control-freak girlfriend will come looking for trouble again! She's probably watching us from some corner right now, isn't she?"
Nathan opened his mouth to respond, but before he could speak, the rest room door cracked open slightly. Victor's voice drifted out, firm and unyielding.
"Without parental protection or paving the way, I still managed to grow into who I am today, sitting in this position in the Moore family. Grandfather, do you think you can control my life?"
An older voice—which I recognized as belonging to the formidable Moore family patriarch—responded with equal determination: "Victor, I have no intention of interfering with your marriage, but there are so many suitable young ladies in New York high society. Why must you choose a girl with no family background?"
My heart skipped a beat as Victor answered without hesitation: "Yes, it must be her!"
The door swung open completely, revealing Victor in his perfectly fitted tuxedo. His eyes widened slightly when he saw me standing there.
"Sam? What are you doing here?" he asked, his expression softening immediately.
His gaze shifted to Nathan, and I watched as his eyes turned cold, his jaw tightening almost imperceptibly. The temperature in the hallway seemed to drop several degrees.
"I... came to see you," I admitted, feeling oddly vulnerable under his intense gaze.
Victor's response was to reach out and affectionately ruffle my hair—a gesture so casually intimate that I felt heat rise to my cheeks. Without taking his eyes off me, he addressed Nathan: "My grandfather is waiting for you. Go in."
I could feel Nathan's eyes on me, assessing my reaction to Victor's touch. To my own surprise, I didn't pull away or make a sarcastic comment as I normally would have. Something had shifted between Victor and me since the snake incident—a subtle but undeniable change in our dynamic that I wasn't quite ready to analyze.
Victor moved slightly, positioning himself between Nathan and me in a subtle but unmistakable protective stance. "Nathan, was there something you wanted to say to my future wife?"
The words hit Nathan like a physical blow. I watched as various emotions flickered across his face—shock, disbelief, perhaps even a hint of regret—before his expression closed off completely. Without another word, he turned and entered the rest room, closing the door firmly behind him.
"Who are you calling your future wife?" I demanded as Victor guided me away from the rest room. "Victor Moore, don't get ahead of yourself!"
He smiled that infuriating smile of his—the one that made it clear he knew something I didn't. "Why did you come over here? Did someone upset you?"
"...No," I denied, though not very convincingly.
As we walked, I couldn't help reflecting on how Victor had just handled Nathan. There had been something almost territorial about the way he'd positioned himself between us, the casual yet possessive way he'd touched my hair. The Victor Moore I'd first met would have been calculating and strategic, but this felt... different. More instinctive. More genuine.
Is he actually serious about me? About us?
"Victor!" I called suddenly, making a split-second decision.
When he turned, I grabbed his wrist and pulled him into a small, secluded alcove off the main corridor. Before he could question what I was doing, I pushed him against the wall, my hands pressing against his chest.
"You just said 'it must be her.' Were you talking about me?" I asked, searching his face for any sign of deception.
Victor didn't hesitate. "Yes. Sam, I've told you before—I want to marry you."
"Are you sure?" I challenged, suddenly feeling vulnerable despite being the one who had him pinned. "Your grandfather is right. You have many better options from prestigious families. I'm the least suitable choice."
Victor's eyes softened as he looked down at me. "Sam, only the weak seek power through marriage. The Moore family doesn't need that kind of alliance."
There was such certainty in his voice, such unwavering confidence, that something inside me finally surrendered. Standing on tiptoe, I pressed my lips against his.
I felt him freeze in surprise for a fraction of a second before his arms wrapped around me, drawing me closer. The kiss was nothing like I'd imagined—not calculated or controlled, but desperate and consuming, as if he'd been holding himself back for too long.
Holy shit, what am I doing? And why does it feel so right?
Stella's POV
"John!" Mark called out, waving across the ballroom.
I followed his gaze to see John White entering the hall, wearing a deep blue bespoke suit and thin gold-rimmed glasses that gave him a surprisingly scholarly appearance. At his side was a woman I hadn't met before—pale-skinned with an understated elegance that contrasted sharply with the flashier styles favored by most of the female guests.
"That's John's new girlfriend," Luke explained, noticing my curious glance. "Amelia Harris."
Nearby, two women were engaged in hushed conversation, but their voices weren't quite low enough: "I heard his new girlfriend essentially offered herself up to him," one woman whispered to her companion. "Who knows what techniques she used to capture our notorious playboy!"
I frowned, disliking their implication. Amelia's modest demeanor and intelligent eyes suggested someone far more substantial than the women were giving her credit for.
"I need to use the ladies' room," Lisa suddenly announced, interrupting my thoughts.
"Be careful," I automatically warned, remembering the strange tension I'd noticed earlier between the Lancaster and Davis families.
Lisa good-naturedly rolled her eyes: "Relax! I'm not some clumsy child. What could possibly happen?"
I watched her bounce away, her bright pink dress making her easy to track through the crowd. From the corner of my eye, I noticed Robert watching her departure, his gaze alert. Satisfied that he'd noticed her movement, I turned my attention back to John and Amelia, who were approaching our group.
"Mrs. Lancaster!" John greeted me warmly, his smile genuine. "Allow me to introduce Amelia Harris, my girlfriend."
Amelia extended her hand somewhat nervously. "Professor Winston."
"Mrs. Lancaster, would you mind showing Amelia around for a bit?" he asked. "I'm afraid she'll be bored following me around while I discuss business."
"I'd be happy to," I agreed, offering Amelia a reassuring smile.
As we moved away from the men, I guided her toward a quieter corner of the ballroom where we could talk more privately.
"Boss..." she said softly, her head slightly bowed.
The term caught me completely off guard. "Amelia, you and John... I don't have any right to interfere in your personal life, but you do know John's reputation, don't you? His former girlfriends could fill a small party. He's not exactly known for stability in relationships."
"I know," she nodded, meeting my eyes directly for the first time.
"You're sure you're okay with that?"
Amelia straightened her shoulders slightly. "Boss, I... I know what I'm doing, and I stand by my choice."
There was a quiet determination in her voice that I couldn't help but respect. "Alright, I respect your decision."
"But if you ever need help, call me, okay?" I added, genuinely concerned for her wellbeing. Despite her confident words, dating someone like John White could be complicated at best, heartbreaking at worst.
Her expression visibly warmed. "Thank you, Stella!"
But could they really make it to the end? I couldn't be sure.