Chapter 13 – The Society Dinner

Anastasia's fingers curled around the edge of the silk gown, her knuckles white as she tried to calm the tremor in her hands.

She had been dressed and prepared like a doll—bathed, perfumed, adorned in an elegant evening gown that shimmered like liquid gold under the grand chandeliers of the estate. The fabric hugged her too perfectly, the neckline lower than anything she had ever worn, the thin straps leaving her shoulders exposed to the cool night air.

The dress was not hers.

None of this was.

The pearl earrings brushing against her collarbone, the delicate gold bracelet clasped around her wrist—all of it belonged to him.

Even the air she breathed in this world felt borrowed.

"Are you cold?"

The deep voice at her side sent a shiver racing down her spine.

Leonidas stood next to her, a pillar of quiet dominance, his presence swallowing the space between them. He was dressed in a crisp black suit, his dark hair swept back, his sharp jawline even more pronounced under the dim golden glow of the estate's ballroom.

He was too close.

She swallowed hard and shook her head. "No."

His gaze flickered to her hands, still gripping the gown like a lifeline, but he said nothing.

The grand doors before them opened.

A sea of aristocrats, business moguls, and women dressed in silks and diamonds filled the hall. Laughter and soft classical music hummed in the background, but it all felt too loud in her ears.

Leonidas stepped forward, and she had no choice but to follow.

Her heels clicked against the polished marble floor, her heart hammering in her chest as they entered the gathering.

She had attended social events before—her father had dragged her to enough of them when he still held some wealth, forcing her to stand by his side like a silent, well-trained accessory.

But this?

This was different.

Because now, she wasn't just some forgotten nobleman's daughter lingering at the edges of society.

Now, she was Leonidas Nikoladis' woman.

And everyone in this room knew it.

The whispers started almost instantly.

She could feel the eyes on her, the barely concealed curiosity, the unspoken judgments.

"Is that her?"

"The one he—"

"So soon after—"

Anastasia lowered her gaze, the heat rising to her cheeks.

A delicate hand suddenly reached out and brushed against Leonidas' arm.

"Leonidas, darling," a woman purred.

Anastasia lifted her head.

A tall, striking woman stood before them, wrapped in a flowing crimson gown that clung to her curves like a second skin. Her golden-brown hair was swept into an intricate chignon, her lips painted a deep, dangerous red.

She was beautiful. And she was looking at her.

"And this must be..." The woman's sharp green eyes flicked over Anastasia in slow, deliberate assessment, lingering just long enough to make her skin prickle.

Leonidas' expression remained unreadable, his jaw tightening slightly. "Anastasia."

The woman's lips curled into something that was not quite a smile. "Ah. So it's true, then. You really did replace her."

The words sent a sharp pang through Anastasia's chest.

Replace her?

Leonidas did not react, his gaze cold and unwavering. "I suggest you choose your words carefully, Celeste."

Celeste let out a light laugh, unfazed. "Oh, come now. You can't expect the world not to notice. One moment, you're engaged to her, and the next..."

She trailed off, tilting her head.

Anastasia felt sick.

She didn't know who her was. Didn't know what history lingered behind Leonidas' name.

But everyone else here clearly did.

Celeste's gaze shifted back to Anastasia, her smile widening. "Well, I do hope you enjoy your time in his world, dear. However long it lasts."

Before Anastasia could react, a strong hand settled at the small of her back.

Warm. Unyielding. Possessive.

Leonidas.

The moment his touch pressed against her, the atmosphere changed.

Celeste's smirk faltered just slightly, and a hush seemed to settle over the nearby crowd.

Leonidas' voice was calm, but there was an unmistakable edge beneath it.

"Watch yourself, Celeste."

A slow, controlled silence stretched between them before Celeste gave a small, knowing hum. "Of course, darling. I wouldn't dream of offending your new—" Her eyes flickered to Anastasia one last time, lips twitching. "—companion."

Anastasia barely heard the rest of the conversation.

Barely registered anything but the weight of his hand on her back, the silent declaration in that single touch.

Leonidas never touched her.

Not like this.

Not in front of people.

But here he was, claiming her.

---

She barely made it to the balcony before the walls of the ballroom closed in completely.

Cool night air rushed over her skin as she gripped the stone railing, her breath coming in uneven gulps.

She wasn't built for this.

She didn't belong here.

A replacement.

That's what they saw her as.

She closed her eyes tightly.

"Are you going to run from every room you don't like?"

Her stomach clenched at the voice behind her.

Deep. Calm. Unshaken.

She turned slowly, and there he was.

Leonidas leaned casually against the stone archway, watching her with that same unreadable gaze.

She should have been used to the way he looked at her by now—like he was waiting for something.

But it still made her chest tighten.

She swallowed. "I just needed air."

His head tilted slightly. "Did Celeste upset you?"

She hesitated. Lied. "No."

Leonidas pushed off the archway and stepped toward her.

She stiffened.

He came closer.

She felt the heat of him before anything else, the quiet intensity in the space between them.

And then—he reached out.

She tensed, expecting something.

A touch. A grip. Something.

But his fingers only brushed the strap of her gown, slipping it back over her shoulder where it had fallen.

A simple movement.

But she felt it everywhere.

His fingers lingered a moment too long before he pulled away.

"You let people think whatever they want, Anastasia." His voice was lower now. Softer. "But you don't ever let them make you feel small."

Her heart pounded.

The words shouldn't have meant anything.

But coming from him...

She wasn't sure what to do with them.

Her breath was uneven. "Why do you care?"

Leonidas didn't answer immediately.

And then—

His fingers tilted her chin up. Just slightly. Just enough for her to meet his gaze.

"I don't like it when people touch what's mine."

A shiver ran down her spine.

His.