Chapter 5 A Dance with the Enemy

Sienna's fingers curled around the stem of her champagne flute, the cold glass grounding her as she stood at Leonel's side. The engagement party was in full swing, the ballroom bathed in golden light, laughter and conversation echoing through the grand hall.

She had played her part well-smiling when necessary, exchanging pleasantries with the guests who fawned over their so-called "perfect match." It was sickening.

Leonel, ever the composed businessman, was doing the same. But unlike her, he didn't have to fake it. He carried himself with effortless control, his expression betraying nothing.

"May I have this dance?" His voice cut through the noise, smooth yet devoid of warmth.

Sienna stiffened, her heart skipping a beat. "Excuse me?"

Leonel extended a hand toward her, his gaze steady. "We're the center of attention. The guests expect it."

She wanted to refuse. Wanted to tell him to dance with someone else-anyone else. But as she glanced around the room, she saw the expectant gazes of the high-society elite watching them like vultures.

Backing down wasn't an option.

So, with gritted teeth, she placed her hand in his.

His fingers wrapped around hers, firm but not unkind, as he led her onto the dance floor. The orchestra shifted into a slow, melodic waltz, the room parting to make space for them.

Leonel placed a hand on her waist, pulling her just close enough for appearances, while she rested a reluctant hand on his shoulder.

"Relax," he murmured, his breath ghosting against her temple. "You look like you'd rather be anywhere else."

She tilted her chin up defiantly. "Because I would."

His lips quirked, a ghost of amusement in his otherwise unreadable expression. "And yet, here you are."

Sienna forced herself to focus on the steps, moving in sync with him as they glided across the dance floor. Despite her resentment, she couldn't deny he was a skilled dancer-his movements precise, effortless.

Unlike her, Leonel wasn't tense. He wasn't bothered.

That only made her angrier.

"You're enjoying this, aren't you?" she muttered under her breath.

Leonel's grip on her waist tightened ever so slightly. "I don't see the point in fighting the inevitable."

She scoffed. "Of course, you don't. You're used to getting your way."

He arched a brow. "And you're used to rebelling."

Her nails dug into his shoulder. "I don't belong to you."

His smirk deepened, and for the first time that evening, his gaze darkened, something unreadable flickering beneath the surface.

"Not yet."

A chill ran down her spine.

Sienna opened her mouth to retort, but before she could, the music came to a graceful end. The guests erupted into polite applause, and Leonel released her, stepping back with a practiced bow.

She wanted to wipe that smug expression off his face.

But instead, she turned sharply on her heel, stepping away from him as quickly as she could without drawing unwanted attention.

She needed air.

She needed space.

As she pushed through the grand hall, ignoring the murmurs of the guests, she made her way toward the balcony.

The night air was crisp against her heated skin as she stepped outside, gripping the railing and inhaling deeply.

This was her life now.

A game she had no choice but to play.

And Leonel Aldric was the opponent she couldn't afford to underestimate.