Chapter 8

The room is dimly lit, with the glow from the chandeliers casting flickering shadows across the walls. As I step out, the soft rustle of my dress seems to echo in the silence that follows. Every eye in the room turns towards me, their leers heavy with curiosity and something else that makes my skin crawl. But I keep my chin up, my expression cool, even as my heart pounds against my ribcage. I'm searching for one person, the man I came here for. My eyes sweep across the room, but he's nowhere to be found.

I walk further in, feeling the weight of the stares pressing against me, but I don't let it show. I trace my finger along the edge of a billiards table, my touch light but purposeful, trying to mask my growing anxiety. Every step feels like a performance, every movement calculated. I can feel the men's eyes following me, lingering on the curve of my hips, the exposed skin of my legs. They think they control this room, but they're wrong. I am a daisy searching for a weed in this garden of decadence.

"So what's your name, pretty miss?" A man's voice cuts through the low hum of conversation, drawing my attention. His tone is leering, dripping with a smug confidence that makes my skin prickle.

"Daisy," I reply promptly, my voice laced with an icy politeness, as if I have a hundred other men to attend to. I don't break my stride, continuing to scan the room. I honestly still don't understand exactly what I'm supposed to do here, but I know that standing still won't help me. I need to find him.

"Well then, Daisy, why don't you come drink with us?" His tone is insistent, almost commanding, as if he expects me to obey without question.

I turn to face him, forcing a smile that doesn't reach my eyes. "Well, a drink couldn't hurt." But as I get a closer look, I realise this man is far from what I'd imagined. His features are coarse, his eyes glinting with something unpleasant. Ew. And then, before I can react, his hand is on me, fingers pressing into my arm.

Instinct takes over. I grab his wrist, my grip firm, stopping him in his tracks. "What's wrong, Daisy? Playing hard to get? There's no need for nonsense like that in a place like this." His voice carries a sinister edge, and the way he looks at me makes my skin crawl.

He's not going to stop. Panic starts to rise in my chest. The room feels hotter, the air thick and stifling. I can barely hear the music playing in the background over the sound of my own heartbeat. What if the man I came here for saw me and realised why I'm here? What if he's already left? How am I going to get out of this? I scan the room again, my vision blurring at the edges as my breaths become shallow. The walls feel like they're closing in, and the man's grip tightens.

I need to—

"Excuse me, but she is reserved for me."

The voice is smooth, deep, and unmistakably authoritative. It slices through the tension like a knife. I freeze, my mind racing. That voice—I know that voice. Eiran Clerisseau. My heart skips a beat, a mixture of relief and dread flooding through me. Is he trying to act like a knight in shining armour, swooping in at the last minute? The thought makes me cringe, but I can't deny the wave of safety that washes over me at his presence.

Before I can process what's happening, I feel his fingers on my bare back. The touch is light, almost teasing, as he traces a line down my spine, sending shivers through my entire body. The sensation is so intimate, so unexpected, that I momentarily forget where I am. His hand moves to my waist, pulling me closer to him, and I'm suddenly very aware of how solid his body feels against mine. He's only wearing a white shirt and dress trousers, but the heat of his skin sears through the fabric, branding me with the contact.

"Oh, well, my apologies, Your Grace." The man who had accosted me stammers, his bravado melting away under Eiran's steely survey. He releases his hold on me, stepping back with a low bow.

But I'm barely listening. My mind is consumed by the feel of Eiran's hand on my waist, the way his thumb brushes against the fabric of my dress. My breath hitches, and I can't seem to think straight. All I can focus on is the way my heart is hammering in my chest, the way my skin tingles where he touches me. His presence is overwhelming, suffocating in a way that makes me want to both escape and lean into him.

I tilt my head up to look at him, and the sight almost knocks the breath out of me. The light from the chandelier catches his features, casting his face in a perfect, almost angelic glow. But there's nothing angelic about the way he's looking at me, with a mixture of amusement and something darker, something that makes my pulse race even faster. His gaze locks onto mine, and for a moment, it feels like the rest of the room fades away, leaving just the two of us in this charged silence.

He leans in close, his breath brushing against my ear, sending a cascade of shivers down my spine. My entire body feels like it's on fire, every nerve ending alive with sensation. "Let's go, Snow Bunny," he whispers, his voice a low, seductive murmur that sends a rush of heat through me.

Snow Bunny. The nickname feels almost mocking, but the way he says it makes my knees weak. He starts to lead me away, his hand never leaving my waist, and I follow, feeling like I'm in a daze. As we move towards a door hidden behind a curtain near the jazz band, I can feel the eyes of the room on us, watching as the Grand Duke takes me away.

My thoughts are a jumbled mess, a mix of fear and confusion and something I can't quite name. I came here to find someone, to accomplish a goal, but now… I feel like I'm the one who's been caught, ensnared by a predator far more dangerous than I anticipated. I'm a snow bunny, and he is the wolf. I was the hunter, but now I realise I'm the one being hunted.

We reach the door, and he pushes it open, guiding me inside with a gentle but firm pressure on my back. The room is small, cozy, and as the door closes behind us, the sounds of the main room are muffled, leaving us in a tense silence. He turns to face me, his eyes gleaming with something unreadable. The tension between us is thick, palpable, and I find myself struggling to breathe under the weight of it.

"You're playing a dangerous game, Daisy," he says, his voice low and smooth, each word dripping with intent. His hand is still on my waist, his touch a constant reminder of how close we are.

My heart races, and I force myself to meet his gaze, even as every instinct screams at me to look away. "I can handle myself," I reply, trying to keep my voice steady, though it comes out softer, more breathless than I intended.

His lips curl into a small, knowing smile, and he leans in, so close that I can feel the warmth of his breath on my lips. "Is that so?" His voice is a challenge, one that sends a thrill of both fear and excitement through me.

I swallow hard, my pulse pounding in my ears. "Yes," I whisper, though the word feels like a lie even as it leaves my lips.

He watches me for a moment longer, his gaze intense, before he finally steps back, giving me just enough space to breathe again. But the tension doesn't dissipate; it lingers, thick and heavy, in the small room. "You should be more careful, Snow Bunny.

His words hang in the air, a warning I'm not sure I understand fully. But there's no time to dwell on it. I've been caught in his web, and I have to figure out how to escape before I lose myself completely.