Dangerously His

I should have known.

Somewhere deep down, in that hollow place right behind my ribs, I think I always did. But I still dressed up tonight like a girl waiting to be loved.

The ballroom was glittering, chandeliers casting golden webs of light over silk gowns and tailored suits, the air thick with perfume and champagne and privilege. These were the children of Manhattan's elite. I belonged here, technically. The daughter of Theorode Kingston, a media tycoon and self-proclaimed king of New York. But I'd never felt smaller.

"Are you sure you want to do this?" Lana asked, looping her arm through mine as we stepped into the grand hall.

I nodded, tightening my grip on my clutch. "He hasn't returned my texts in days. He said he needed space. But he wouldn't just... do this. Not Julian."

My voice cracked at the end, and I hated that she heard it.

Lana gave me a look, half pity, half fury. "You deserve better than a boy who ghosts you when things get complicated."

I didn't respond. Because Julian wasn't just a boy. He was my life. The only one who ever tried to understand me after Mom died. He made me laugh when I thought I'd forgotten how. He held my hand the night my father forgot my birthday.

I needed this to make sense. I needed him to make it make sense.

And then I saw him.

Across the ballroom, by the marble staircase, he was standing there, smiling like sin, his hand resting casually on a girl's waist. She was beautiful. Curvy. Her dress hugged her curves like second skin, crimson satin, and legs for days. And he...he looked at her like she hung the stars.

My lungs stopped working. My heart dropped.

"Arabelle," Lana whispered sharply, pulling at my wrist. "Don't go over there. Please."

But I was already walking. I wasn't thinking at that moment, I mean... I never think when it's something about him.

My heels clicked against the floor like gunshots. Each step felt like I was walking into fire, but I couldn't stop. I needed to hear him say it wasn't what it looked like. That I mattered. That we mattered.

He saw me before I reached him. His smile faltered for a second, just a second before it came back, smug and cruel.

"Julian," I said, trying to keep my voice steady. "Can we talk? Please?"

He raised an eyebrow, then looked at the girl on his arm like I wasn't even standing there.

"I think we're talking just fine," he said.

The girl giggled. I wanted to vanish.

I forced a breath. "I just... I need to know what's going on. You disappeared and you didn't respond to my messages. I didn't do anything wrong, did I?"

The words tasted like glass.

That's when he turned fully to me, his expression blank.

"Arabelle, we were never serious. You knew that."

"No," I said quickly. "That's not true. You told me..."

He cut me off with a sharp laugh. "I told you what you wanted to hear. Let's not act like this was some grand romance. We had fun. That's all."

My cheeks burned. I could feel people watching now, eyes glancing, whispers starting.

"I thought you cared about me," I whispered. "You met my father. You stayed with me when I couldn't breathe through the grief."

Julian scoffed, stepping closer. "I did it out of obligation. You're my dad's friend's daughter. That's all it ever was."

There was silence. Heavy. Cruel.

Then someone behind me muttered, "Ouch."

Laughter followed, Low and sharp.

My eyes stung. My throat felt like it was closing.

"Julian," I said, my voice trembling. "You said I was different."