her father had finally hit the tipping point ... the world was a blur of champagne flutes and condescending smiles, but all ivy could feel was the phantom burn of lucian vanceβs fingers on her wrist. it was a brand, a claim, and the fury it ignited was like white hot coal in her chest, threatening to scorch her from the inside out. the name was like the man himself β smooth, expensive, and utterly cold. it wasn't just the way he looked at her, though that was bad enough. those eyes, the color of a winter sky just before a blizzard, didn't see a person. they saw an asset. a beautifully packaged, desirable asset, to be sure, but an asset nonetheless. his gaze had cataloged her. the fall of her hair, the cut of her dress, the defiance in her eyes β and heβd calculated it all into his offer. he hadn't even bothered with the pretense of charm. why would he? in his world, ivy's fathers word was the only currency that mattered, and her consent was a trivial formality, a signature on a dotted line he already considered his.
she couldn't believe the nerve of the arrogant, entitled bastard. and her father, selling her like a prime piece of real estate with a view. her slap had been pure instinct, a reflex against violation. all she could see was lucianβs hand, his fingers still resting on her wrist as if she were an object he was inspecting for flaws. her body moved before her mind could counsel caution. her right hand whipped up, a swift, elegant arc fueled by pure, undiluted fury. there was no hesitation, no second-guessing. the sound it made when her palm connected with the back of his encroaching hand was not a delicate slap. it was a sharp, percussive crack that cut through the murmured platitudes and clinking glasses of the vip section. "i am not some bargaining chip! my duty is not to be whored out for your power. " hung in the smoky air between her and her father, a declaration of war. she moved, pushing back from the velvet banquette, her heels digging into the plush carpet, a flight response so primal it overrode every lesson in obedience sheβd ever been force fed. silasβs command to guillermo was a cold knife through the tension. stop her. of course. she was his property, and property didnβt get to walk away. ivy braced for the inevitable, for the large, familiar hand to clamp down on her shoulder, to physically remand her back to her owners. her heart hammered against her ribs, a trapped bird beating itself to death. in that instant of searing pain and humiliating manhandling, her eyesβwide with a panic that tasted metallic in her mouthβdarted past lucianβs shoulder. they found guillermo. it was only a glance, a fraction of a second stolen from her struggle, but it was everything. it was a silent message flung across the room.
