Chapter 4 THE GALA AND THE GAME

The ballroom sparkled with golden chandeliers, marble floors, and the glitter of high society. Every Delacroix gala was a spectacle, but tonight was different. Tonight, it wasn't just about wealth.

It was about war.

Ariella stood near the top of the stairs, hands clasped lightly at her waist. Her black velvet gown hugged her frame, elegant and understated-nothing like the loud colors Sabrina used to wear. She had chosen to command the room with quiet confidence, not flash.

Her entrance turned heads.

Gasps whispered through the air like wind through silk.

"Is that Sabrina Delacroix?"

"She looks... different. Bolder."

"Better."

Xander was already on the floor, surrounded by business partners and board members. But the moment his gaze met hers, the conversations around him seemed to still. His eyes-dark, unreadable-traveled slowly down her form, and for a flicker of a moment, something heated passed between them.

Admiration? Desire?

She wasn't sure.

But then the moment snapped.

And so did the silence.

Because from the left, gliding toward her like a serpent in heels, came Clarissa.

Her red dress was dramatic-barely covering her chest, dragging behind her like a crimson threat. Her smile was poison sweet.

"My, my," Clarissa purred, circling Ariella. "You clean up nicely for someone who used to be invisible."

Ariella didn't flinch. "Is that your way of saying I look better than you tonight?"

Clarissa's smile faltered.

"I suppose even shadows look dazzling under the right lights," she said smoothly. "But don't mistake attention for admiration."

Ariella tilted her head. "And don't mistake desperation for confidence. Your dress is screaming."

Several guests nearby choked on their champagne.

Clarissa's eyes narrowed, but before she could launch her next venomous strike, Xander appeared beside Ariella. His arm slid around her waist effortlessly.

"Is there a problem?" His voice was low, authoritative.

Clarissa tried to recover. "Of course not. Just old friends catching up."

"Good," he said coolly, his grip tightening on Ariella. "Because if I hear that anyone attempts to insult my fiancée again-especially in my own home-they won't be invited back."

The room froze.

Ariella blinked, stunned. Not at his words.

But at his tone.

He was defending her.

Publicly.

Clarissa's mouth opened, then closed again like a fish gasping for air. She gave a tight smile, then turned on her heel and stormed off.

Xander turned to Ariella. "You didn't need me to step in."

She raised an eyebrow. "Then why did you?"

His lips curved faintly. "Because I wanted to."

The rest of the evening unfolded like a dance.

Ariella moved from one guest to another, exchanging pleasantries and subtle barbs. She surprised even herself with how easily she navigated the room. This wasn't her world-but she was adapting fast.

They wanted Sabrina?

Then they would get something better.

Later, on the balcony overlooking the gardens, Ariella leaned against the railing. The cool breeze kissed her skin, calming the storm inside her.

She heard footsteps behind her.

She didn't need to turn.

"I didn't expect you to come back out here," she said quietly.

Xander joined her at the rail, silent for a moment. "You handled Clarissa better than I would have."

"She underestimated me."

"So did I."

Ariella turned to him, her voice barely above a whisper. "Why did you defend me, Xander? Really?"

He studied her face in the moonlight, and for once, there was no smirk, no challenge.

"Because I don't like people disrespecting what's mine."

A beat passed.

She looked away. "I'm not yours."

"Not yet."

The air between them thickened, charged with something unspoken.

Ariella's pulse raced.

She was playing a part. So was he.

But something had shifted tonight.

He had looked at her differently.

He had seen her.

And for the first time, she wasn't sure if she hated it... or wanted more.