Chapter 37: The Dress, The Dance, and The Devil’s Smile

The palace's Spring Banquet was just three days away, and the Hellgrave mansion had descended into chaos.

Verbena stood in front of a wall-sized mirror, arms stiffly raised as three maids tugged, pinned, and stitched fabric around her. Silk in the deepest shade of crimson cascaded around her body like liquid fire, hugging her waist and pooling at her feet. Gold embroidery shimmered along the sleeves and neckline, giving the illusion that flames were licking at her skin.

"Too much," she muttered. "I look like a villain's evil accomplice, not a duchess."

The head maid, a stout woman with sharp eyes, smiled proudly. "You are the villain's wife, my lady. It suits you perfectly."

Verbena groaned. "I should've married a farmer."

Before the head maid could respond, the door creaked open.

The room fell silent as Theodore stepped inside, dressed in his usual black shirt, sleeves rolled up to his elbows, dark hair slightly tousled as if he'd just run his fingers through it. His eyes swept over Verbena, lingering a second too long on her exposed shoulders.

"I see you're preparing to outshine the entire noble class," he drawled.

Verbena's heart skipped, but her mouth moved faster than her brain. "I have to match my terrifying husband, don't I?"

Theodore chuckled softly. "Terrifying? I'm hurt."

He crossed the room, standing directly behind her, their reflections perfectly aligned in the mirror.

His hand brushed over her waist — just for a moment — adjusting the fabric before stepping back. "This color suits you."

Verbena swallowed hard. "You're just saying that because it matches your family's bloodstained reputation."

"Exactly." His smile was wicked.

The maids tried to pretend they weren't listening, but their wide eyes betrayed them.

Verbena cleared her throat, trying to regain control of the conversation. "If you're here to terrify me before the banquet, it's working."

"I'm here to remind you…" His voice dropped low, just for her ears. "...not to trust anyone at the palace. Especially the Crown Prince."

Her spine stiffened. "Why? You've been hiding things about him from me since the beginning."

Theodore's smile faded. "Some truths are more dangerous than lies, Verbena."

She wanted to push further, but the way his jaw tensed — the barely hidden shadow in his gaze — stopped her.

"Fine," she said, choosing to retreat. "If you want me to survive the palace, at least teach me how to dance properly."

Theodore raised a brow. "You want me to teach you?"

"Unless you want me to trip over my own dress and embarrass you in front of the entire royal court."

His smile returned, slower this time, like molten gold spreading across his face. "Very well."

He dismissed the maids with a wave of his hand, leaving the two of them alone in the room.

"Let's see what you already know."

Verbena placed her hand in his, her other hand resting on his shoulder. Theodore's grip was firm, his touch warmer than expected.

"One, two, three," he murmured, leading her into a slow waltz across the room.

For the first few steps, Verbena was stiff, overthinking every movement. But as Theodore's hand slid down to her waist, guiding her effortlessly, she found herself relaxing — not because she trusted him, but because his confidence made it impossible to stumble.

"This isn't bad," she admitted, breathless.

"Not bad?" Theodore's eyes glinted with amusement. "You wound me again."

He spun her suddenly, her skirt flaring out like a blooming flower, and when she landed back in his arms, she was closer than before — too close.

"Why are you so good at this?" she whispered, heart pounding.

"Because seducing enemies at royal events used to be part of my job," he answered with deadly calm.

Verbena stepped on his foot. Hard.

He didn't even flinch.

"I'm your wife now," she muttered. "You only dance like this with me."

Theodore's expression softened just slightly — so quick she almost missed it.

"Of course."

They kept dancing, the tension thickening between them like honey, until a knock on the door shattered the moment.

"My lady, a gift has arrived from the palace!"

Theodore's hand immediately left her waist, his entire demeanor turning cold and sharp.

"Open it," Verbena said, curiosity winning over caution.

A servant carried in a velvet box, placing it on the table. Inside was a hairpin shaped like a blooming lily, encrusted with pearls and emeralds.

Verbena smiled bitterly. "From the Crown Prince?"

The servant nodded.

Theodore said nothing, but his knuckles whitened as he gripped the back of a chair.

Verbena picked up the hairpin, turning it over in her hands. "It's beautiful, but I don't need it."

She set it aside and walked past Theodore toward the door — but before she could leave, he caught her wrist.

"Verbena."

She turned, startled by the rare softness in his voice.

"If you ever need me at the banquet — no matter where I am or who you're with — call my name."

For once, there was no smirk, no sarcasm, just quiet intensity.

Her heart betrayed her again, beating faster for the villain husband who was supposed to be her enemy.

"I will," she whispered.

As she left the room, the hairpin remained on the table — forgotten.

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End of chapter