The Heiress He Underestimated novel Chapter 72

Chapter 72 Accidental Fire

The walk back through the ballroom felt different this time. Before, they’d been making an entrance. Now they were being herded, forced onto a path they hadn’t chosen. Elera’s skin prickled with awareness. This felt wrong.

They pushed through into the hotel’s grand lobby, heading for the glittering front doors and the lights of the street beyond. Halfway across the marble floor, Elera saw him.

Xan.

He was standing just outside the glass doors, leaning against a column like he was waiting for a cab. He was in a tuxedo too, looking casual and elegant and completely in control. He had a cigarette in his hand but he wasn’t smoking it. He was just… standing there. Watching them. Smiling.

It wasn’t an attack. It was a message. A big, bright, neon sign that said: I’m here. I can get to you. Your walls aren’t as high as you think.

Drakonius saw him at the same moment. His whole body went tense, coiled like a spring. His hand on her arm went from protective to possessive, pulling her closer to his side.

“Don’t stop walking,” he said quietly. “Don’t look at him. Don’t give him anything.”

But it was hard not to look. Xan was impossible to ignore, standing there in the lights with that cold, satisfied smile on his face. As they got closer to the doors, his smile got wider. When they were maybe ten feet away, separated only by the glass, he lifted his hand in a slow, mocking little wave.

Frost’s team materialized around them, forming a moving wall between them and the outside. The car pulled up right as they reached the doors. They were ushered in smoothly, professionally, the door closing and cutting off the flash of cameras and the sight of Xan’s smug face.

The car pulled away fast, merging into traffic. For a long minute, nobody said anything.

Drakonius turned to look at her. In the dim light of the car, his face was all hard angles and shadows. “Are you afraid?”

A fierce, dark smile crossed his face. “Good,” he said. “Because so am I.

He reached over and took her hand, threading his fingers through hers. They sat like that the rest of the way home, hands locked together, united in their anger and their determination.

The first night was done. They’d shown their faces. They’d survived the social battlefield. And the enemy had shown his hand.

Tomorrow night was the real test. The main event. The literary gala where Elera would stand in front of everyone as someone she wasn’t, while Drakonius stood next to her hoping to catch a glimpse of someone she was.

The war was just getting started.