She leaned against the balustrade, one hand at her waist, breathing in the cold until it caught at her ribs.
“Thought I might find you out here,” Matthew said easily, closing the door behind him.
She turned. Matthew stood just behind her, holding two glasses.
She straightened. “I only needed air.”
“You looked like you did.”
He walked toward her, slow and casual, and the doors shut with a soft click behind him. The sound scraped.
“You left before your drink,” he added, holding out a fresh glass.
“I’m not thirsty.”
He set the glass down on the balustrade. “You’ve been quiet all night.”
“I’ve been tired,” she said carefully.
He stepped closer. Too close. “No. You’ve been distant.”
She tensed. Her back was near the column now, stone against silk.
“I’m not in the mood for conversation, Lord Vaun.”
His gaze dropped to her mouth.
“No,” he murmured. “You’re not.”
She moved to step past him, but he blocked the path with an easy shift of his shoulder. He wasn’t smiling now. His expression had gone still, flat. His eyes, dark in the low light, held something colder.
Anna’s heart picked up, fast and high.
“Let me pass.”
He didn’t answer.
The silence stretched. Behind the hedge, the faint sounds of music were too far to matter.
She reached out to push past him.
That’s when he grabbed her arm.
His fingers slid down to her wrist, holding it in place.
“I don’t want to fight you,” he said, voice quiet. “I just want to enjoy what’s already mine.”
Her blood went cold.
“You don’t own me.”
He stepped in, her back now flush with the stone.
“Don’t I?” he said. “I could take you right now, and no one would stop me.”
She jerked her wrist, but his grip held.
“You should be thanking me,” he said, low, breath brushing the curve of her cheek. “No more pretending. No more waiting.”
