"Impressive," Tristan murmured, his tone laced with amusement.
I shot him a glare. "I don't need your compliments. You threw me to the wolves on purpose."
"And yet, you survived." His lips quirked into an infuriating smirk. "You should be thanking me."
"Thanking you!?" I scoffed. "You set me up!"
"And now you've earned their respect," he countered smoothly, his gaze flicking around the room.
I clenched my jaw, refusing to admit he might have had a point. But as I glanced around, I noticed the subtle shift in the atmosphere. People were whispering, watching me differently—not with outright contempt but with something closer to intrigue.
Still, I wasn't about to stroke his ego.
Instead, I crossed my arms and turned to him. "Why are you still following me?"
Tristan tilted his head, considering me. "Because I'm not your enemy," he said simply. Then, after a beat, "And because I'd like to dance with you."