Ezrin's grip didn't falter as he guided her further onto the dance floor. The golden lights reflected in his eyes, but there was nothing warm about his gaze—only calculated control and something far more dangerous simmering beneath.
The moment his hand pressed firmly against her waist, Seraphina knew this wasn't just about the dance. This was a message.
To Elias.
To everyone watching.
To her.
The music flowed around them, a slow yet haunting melody, but Ezrin didn't move immediately. He let the silence stretch between them, let her feel the weight of his presence.
The alcohol dulled her senses, but not enough to miss how rigid his body was, how tightly his fingers held her. And yet, despite everything, she felt steady in his hold.
Safe. Possessed.
A smirk ghosted her lips. "Jealous?" she murmured, her voice laced with amusement, though her own balance was slightly off.
Ezrin's grip tightened—not enough to hurt, but enough to remind her who she was dealing with.
"Careful, Seraphina," he warned, his voice a low whisper near her ear, his breath sending a shiver down her spine. "You're playing a dangerous game."
She tilted her head slightly, their proximity making it impossible to ignore the intensity of his stare. "Aren't we both?"
His smirk was dark, unreadable. Dangerous.
Without another word, he moved—leading her into the dance.
Ezrin's grip on her didn't loosen. If anything, it tightened.
His voice dropped lower, colder. "What did Elias say to you?"
Seraphina didn't answer.
Instead, she placed her hands on his chest, intending to push herself away—but he was stronger. Much stronger.
With a sharp pull, he brought her closer. Their bodies collided, leaving no space between them. The movement forced a quiet gasp from her lips, but he didn't react.
At least, not outwardly.
What did affect him, though—was the scent.
A faint, lingering trace of a man's cologne clung to her. Not hers. Not his.
Elias.
A flicker of something dark passed through Ezrin's gaze, but his expression remained unreadable, neutral—a mask perfected over years of control.
Seraphina, her senses now fully clouded by the alcohol coursing through her veins, didn't even notice the shift in his demeanor.
But Ezrin did.
And he didn't like it.
His voice was quieter this time, but no less demanding. "Answer me."
Seraphina blinked up at him, her thoughts slow, hazy. The alcohol had done its job, making her limbs heavier, her mind just a little less sharp. But she could still recognize the tension in Ezrin's voice—the quiet danger laced within his demand.
Still, she didn't answer.
Instead, she smirked, tilting her head slightly as if she hadn't just pushed him to the edge of his patience. "Since when do you care?" she murmured, her voice softer but teasing.
Ezrin's jaw clenched. Since always. But he wouldn't say that.
Instead, he exhaled slowly, his grip on her tightening for just a fraction of a second before loosening—only enough to let her think she still had control. "I don't like repeating myself," he said, his voice deceptively calm.
Ezrin didn't loosen his grip.
He tightened it.
Before Seraphina could react, his hold became unrelenting, pulling her against him—closer than ever. Their chests collided, their stomachs pressed together, leaving no space between them.
The sudden proximity sent a jolt through her alcohol-laced senses, but it was Ezrin's control—his raw, silent dominance—that made her breath hitch.
"Answer me properly," he murmured, his voice dangerously low.
Seraphina swallowed, the warmth of his body seeping through the thin fabric of her dress. She was good at playing games, good at keeping herself composed, but this? This was a whole new battlefield.
Her hands, still resting against his chest, felt the slow, steady rise and fall of his breathing. He wasn't as calm as he looked.
Ezrin's fingers pressed slightly into her lower back. Subtle. Possessive. " Answer."
Seraphina's smirk faltered for just a second. But she had a role to play.
"He said nothing." she replied, her voice softer now.
Ezrin didn't move. Didn't blink.
But his grip—it tightened just a little more.
"Then why he came closer to you?". He asked. His patience running thin.
Seraphina thought about that moment only to realize that he came close and he definitely said something but she can't remember.
She looked up at him. His burning gaze locked at her. "Don't think about lying, princess." He said like he was daring her. His fingers ran across her face then jawline and then her collarbone.
He pulled her close like he was minding the little distance between their bodies.
Her body shivered under his touch.
There was no space left to close between them, yet somehow, she felt trapped in a way that had nothing to do with distance.
Her heartbeat stuttered.
"He did come closer and said something but." A pause. Ezrin's gaze burned into her. "But?". He repeated. "I don't remember what he said." She admitted.
He leaned down, just enough for his breath to brush against her ear.
"If he touches you again or even came a little closer," he said, each word a quiet threat, "he won't be able to ask anyone anything ever again."
Seraphina's breath caught.
But before she could process the weight of his words, she felt it—
The way his fingers pressed deeper into the small of her back, the way his other hand adjusted slightly at her side.
He wasn't letting go.
And then he noticed it.
The way her body reacted under his touch. The way her breath hitched every time he pulled her closer. How she gasped.
His smirk deepened, a slow realization settling in.
So, he did it again.
Loosened his grip, created just a little distance, only to see her reaction on what he will do next.
He pulled her closer. Watched her gasp.
Pulled her even closer. Felt her tense, then relax.
Interesting.
"You liked it," he murmured, his voice nothing but dark amusement.
Seraphina stiffened.
For the first time tonight, her mask faltered.
Her hazy mind caught up a second too late. "What?" she said, her voice softer than she intended.
Ezrin leaned in just a fraction more, enough that his breath brushed against her skin.
"You liked it when I pulled you closer," he said, his voice slow, deliberate. "You gasped every time. I felt it."
Her fingers curled slightly against his chest.
"You're imagining things," she muttered, regaining herself.
But Ezrin?
He simply smirked. Because they both knew she was lying.
Seraphina, still catching her breath, forced herself to speak.
"No, I didn't like it."
The words left her lips, sharp and defiant.
But it did nothing good to him.
Ezrin's smirk didn't fade. Instead, his grip on her waist tightened. His eyes, dark and unreadable, locked onto hers with an intensity that sent a shiver down her spine.
"Too late," he said.
And then, without warning—he dipped her.
The world tilted.
Seraphina gasped, her breath stolen as she arched backward, her body suspended by his hold alone. Instinct took over—her hands flew to his shirt, gripping the fabric tightly to steady herself.
Their faces—too close.
The dim golden lights above blurred, the music in the background became distant. All she could focus on was him.
Ezrin's voice was low, teasing, but there was something darker beneath it.
"Still don't like it?"
Seraphina's lips parted, her mind clouded by the alcohol, by the closeness, by him.
She should lie. She needed to lie.
But the way his touch anchored her, the way his breath fanned across her skin, the way his unreadable eyes searched hers—it was suffocating.
And Ezrin knew it.
He could feel it in her hesitation. See it in her expression.
Her silence made his smirk deepen.
"Too late," he murmured again.
And then, with a controlled motion—he pulled her back up.
Not just back to balance.
Back against him.
Closer than before.
Seraphina's fingers curled tighter around his shirt as he pulled her upright, her body pressed against his. Her breath was uneven, the heat of the moment mixing with the alcohol in her veins.
"Let go," she muttered, her voice softer than intended.
Ezrin didn't move. His grip remained firm, his fingers pressing into the silk of her dress.
His smirk lingered. "Say it like you mean it."
His voice was low, edged with amusement, but his eyes held something deeper—satisfaction. He had felt every reaction, every shift in her body under his touch, and he was enjoying it.
Seraphina swallowed, trying to steady herself, but he wasn't just close—he was consuming.
Across the room, Kieran was multitasking—observing the crowd, taking in every detail of the people around them, while also watching the scene unfold in front of him.
With a slight smirk of his own, he took a sip of his drink.
"Well, this is entertaining."
Suddenly, Ezrin let go.
The warmth of his grip vanished, and Seraphina's body swayed. The alcohol in her veins was not helping. Her heels felt unsteady, the floor beneath her seemed to tilt, and before she could regain control—she lost her balance.
But just as quickly as she fell, Ezrin caught her.
His arm wrapped around her waist in one swift motion, pulling her back against him, her breath hitching as she found herself once again in his hold.
His smirk returned, satisfied.
"You can't even walk."
Seraphina clenched her jaw, irritation flashing in her hazy eyes. She hated this. Hated that she needed his support right now.
From the sidelines, Kieran let out a low chuckle.
"Should've taken it easy on the drinks, princess."
It was already 2 AM.
The once lively party had started to quiet down, but Ezrin's patience had already run thin.
He looked down at Seraphina, still held in his arms. "Can you walk?" he asked, his voice laced with skepticism.
She straightened slightly, determination flickering in her eyes. "Of course, I can."
But the moment she took a step—she stumbled again.
Ezrin's jaw clenched.
That was it.
Without another word, he scooped her up effortlessly and threw her over his shoulder.
A surprised gasp left her lips, but he didn't care.
Ignoring her weak protests, he strode toward the exit, his grip on her firm, unwavering.
Kieran, who had been watching the whole thing with amusement, followed behind, taking slow sips of his drink.
Ezrin reached the car, opened the door, and placed her into the passenger seat. His movements were careful but firm, ensuring she wouldn't try anything reckless in her intoxicated state.
Turning back to Kieran, he spoke, "I'm taking her home."
Kieran raised a brow. "The drivers can drop her off."
Ezrin's gaze darkened, his tone absolute."She's not in a state to be left alone."
Kieran smirked. "Didn't say you were wrong." He leaned against the car, watching Ezrin settle into the driver's seat. "Just saying… you're acting quite possessive."
Ezrin shot him a sharp look but said nothing.
With that, he closed the door and started the car, his grip tightening on the steering wheel as he drove into the quiet night.
The way back home was quiet.
The only sound was the low hum of the engine as Ezrin drove through the empty streets, but his mind was anything but silent.
Every moment from the party replayed in his head—her warmth against him, the way she gasped under his touch, the way she looked at him with defiance yet let him hold her.
He stole a glance at her.
Seraphina looked so innocent. Her lashes rested against her flushed cheeks, her breathing steady, her figure perfectly curled in the seat, wrapped in his jacket now. The dim glow of passing streetlights illuminated her delicate features.
But then… his gaze traveled lower.
The silky fabric of her dress had ridden up against her skin, exposing the smooth curve of her thighs.
Ezrin's jaw tightened.
He forced himself to look away, gripping the steering wheel with more force than necessary.
But no matter how much he tried to focus on the road—his mind was betraying him.
Thoughts surfaced, thoughts that weren't good for either of them.
As the car pulled in front of her apartment building, Ezrin exhaled sharply.
He turned his head and called her name.
No response.
His eyes narrowed. She was completely out.
With a sigh, he stepped out of the car and moved toward the passenger side. The moment he opened the door, the cool night air brushed against her skin, making her stir slightly—but not enough to wake her.
Without hesitation, he scooped her into his arms.
She was warm, her body relaxed against him, too intoxicated to resist.
Ezrin knew where she lived. Every detail about her was in the employee records. He had memorized everything.
As they reached the front of her apartment door, he let her down, steadying her by the waist.
"Where are the keys?"
Seraphina blinked slowly, her mind hazy from the alcohol. "In my clutch…"
A pause.
Then realization hit her.
"I left it in the hall."
Ezrin's grip on her waist tightened slightly. His patience was thinning.
With one hand still holding her upright, he pulled out his phone and called Kieran.
"Make sure Seraphina's clutch doesn't get displaced," he ordered, his tone sharp.
"Already ahead of you," Kieran replied. "It's safe."
Ezrin hung up.
Then without warning he threw her over his shoulder.
A soft gasp left her lips, but she was too intoxicated to protest.
"We're leaving," Ezrin said, already walking back toward the car.
"Where?" she mumbled against his back.
Ezrin smirked, his grip on her secure.
"My place."
The ride was silent.
Seraphina's head rested against the window, her breathing slow and steady. Ezrin kept his eyes on the road, but his mind was elsewhere—on everything that had happened tonight.
By the time the car pulled in front of his penthouse, the night had grown even quieter. The guard stationed at the entrance immediately stepped forward and opened the car door.
Ezrin didn't waste a second. He moved to Seraphina's side and carefully scooped her into his arms once again.
She murmured something incoherent against his chest, her body warm and pliant in his hold.
Without acknowledging anyone, he walked through the entrance, past the grand interior, and straight toward his bedroom.
Inside, the dim lighting cast soft shadows across the luxurious space. Ezrin laid her on the bed, adjusting the pillows beneath her head. With a careful motion, he pulled the duvet over her.
For a moment, he just stood there, watching her. She looked so different like this—unguarded, vulnerable.
Then, suddenly—
She shot up.
Her expression twisted, and he knew what was coming.
Without hesitation, Ezrin grabbed her wrist and pulled her toward the bathroom.
Just in time.
She collapsed in front of the toilet, and her body heaved as she vomited everything out.
Ezrin stood behind her, his jaw tightening.
He had seen worse, but something about this made his patience snap.
Those bastards had forced her to drink.
His hands curled into fists. This wasn't part of the game anymore.
Without a word, he reached for a towel, his movements smooth, controlled—despite the anger simmering beneath the surface.