The lights dimmed subtly, drawing the attention of every guest as the orchestra struck the first haunting chord of a tango. A hush settled over the grand ballroom. At the far end, an announcer's voice echoed with ceremonial weight, "As is tradition, the first dance shall be led by the heir of the Volkov family. The partner he chooses will signify his intentions for future alliance."
Gasps rippled through the room.
Eyes shifted to Lillianne Thornwell, who stood with a flawless, expectant smile, her posture regal and confident. Everyone assumed it would be her—she had always been the assumed bride, the rightful heiress to the throne beside Xander.
But Xander didn't move toward her.
He moved past her.
Straight across the marble floor, his dark silhouette cut through the glittering crowd until he stopped before Erin. She stood frozen, tucked into a quiet corner as if she didn't belong—at least, that's what many thought. Her posture was uncertain, her expression a mix of confusion and shock.
Xander extended his hand to her, eyes steady. "Dance with me."
The silence broke with a collective gasp.
Erin's throat tightened. Her heart thundered against her ribs. She looked around, confused, and then back at him. "What…?"
He didn't elaborate. Didn't need to.
Slowly, almost against her will, her hand found his.
As he pulled her gently onto the dance floor, whispers erupted like wildfire.
"Isn't that the maid Lillianne talked about?"
"No way."
"He chose her for the first dance? That means—"
"No—wait, that can't be. Why will he choose someone like her?"
"He can't be serious."
But he was.
Lillianne's perfectly painted smile cracked as her fingers curled around her champagne flute. A storm brewed in her eyes.
The music swelled.
Xander's hand settled on Erin's waist, firm yet gentle, guiding her into position. Erin had never danced the tango before—not formally. But Xander moved with instinct, his body close, his palm warm. Their rhythm aligned in the first few steps.
She almost tripped. Almost. But his hand steadied her.
"Relax," he murmured near her ear.
"I haven't done this dance formally or in public before," she whispered.
"I have. Just follow me."
She did.
And something electric shifted between them.
With each step, Erin found herself moving more fluidly, letting go of her tension. The room faded. The silence turned from judgmental to spellbound. Their bodies moved as if in perfect harmony, the sensual, commanding steps of the tango pulling them closer with each beat.
His hand on her back was possessive but not forceful. Her fingers curled around his shoulder, hesitant at first, then secure. Their legs intertwined in fluid sweeps, their gazes locking in silent defiance of the stunned crowd.
"This is insane," she whispered. "Why me?"
"You're the only one I trust not to step on my foot," he replied with a faint smile.
Her eyes narrowed. "Liar."
He didn't deny it. Instead, he twirled her into a sharp pivot, catching her neatly again, their chests brushing as they paused.
As their bodies spun and dipped, Xander leaned in, his lips close to her ear. "You remember everything I taught you."
"Hard to forget," she replied, trying not to sound breathless. "The teacher was relentless."
He chuckled, the sound low. "And the student was stubborn."
"Still is," she murmured.
"You didn't know, did you?" he said, voice low.
"Know what?"
"That this dance… it's not just for show. The partner chosen first is the one a prince intends to marry."
Her breath caught.
"What?"
"I forgot you weren't raised with our politics," he said, and the glimmer of amusement in his voice didn't quite reach his eyes. "Now everyone thinks I've made my choice."
"And have you?" she asked before she could stop herself.
He didn't answer.
Instead, he guided her through the final sweeping motion of the dance. The orchestra ended with a flourish. Their bodies stilled.
Silence.
Then, a slow, stunned applause. Hesitant, scattered at first… then louder. More urgent.
They stood together, still close, Erin's face warm, her thoughts in chaos.
And Xander, ever unreadable, leaned closer, his lips brushing her ear.
"Now you really can't run."
Then he stepped back and offered her his arm, face unreadable, but his touch—unmistakably possessive.
Erin had never felt so watched. So chosen. So trapped.
And yet… she slipped her arm into his without hesitation.
The ballroom erupted again. Not with applause, but with chaos.
Because in that one dance, Xander Kaelthorn had turned the entire alliance gala on its head.