CHAPTER 6

ALINA

The orchestra played a waltz, the slow, melodic notes curling through the air, but none of it could drown out the knot of frustration tightening in my chest.

The laughter that escaped Arthur after whatever Robert Solas had said was chilling in its emptiness.

How could he possibly be this relaxed? With everything hanging by a thread, he still carried on as if the world were at his feet. It was maddening.

Arthur was so lost in his own delusions that he hadn’t even noticed Alexander Dimitri slip in and out of the scene unnoticed. He was blissfully ignorant of the danger looming over him—of a man who didn’t just issue threats but acted on them.

I had to get through to him, make sure he understood the urgency of returning the money he owed Dimitri, or the consequences would be far worse than he could ever imagine.

God only knew how deep Arthur had dug us into this mess, how many times he’d borrowed from the devil himself. We were drowning in debt, suffocating under the weight of it, and I had no idea how we’d even begin to repay him. But somehow, we had to find a way. Time was slipping through our fingers, and we couldn’t afford to waste another second.

“Arthur,” I called, my voice cutting through the noise, sharper than I intended.

“I need to talk to you. It's urgent.”

Arthur barely acknowledged me, his irritation radiating off him like a heatwave.

"Took you long enough in the lady's room," he said, his voice sharp with impatience. His eyes barely flicked in my direction before settling back on his glass, as though I were nothing more than an inconvenience.

"You owe Mr. Solas a dance," he added, his tone dismissive, gesturing toward me with a lazy flick of his wrist. The motion was careless, like he couldn’t be bothered to put effort into even pretending to care. To him, I wasn’t his daughter—I was just another pawn to be moved across his chessboard.

“Robert, you’ll find she’s an excellent dancer,” Arthur added with a smug smile, his voice dripping with false charm. “I’m sure she’ll impress you.”

The disgust surged inside me, but I bit back the harsh words that wanted to escape. I didn’t care about impressing Robert, or anyone else for that matter. But before I could snap back, Robert took my hand, his grip firm and possessive.

"Arthur, I really need to talk to you..." My voice was tight with the frustration that had been building inside me.

"Not now, Alina," Arthur said curtly, his tone edged with irritation. "Whatever it is can wait. Go and dance with Mr. Solas."

Before I could protest, Robert’s hand gripped my arm with a firm, almost possessive touch.

"Shall we, Alina?" he asked, his voice smooth but laced with an expectation that I follow.

Frustration churned in my chest, but I swallowed it down, forcing myself to stay composed. One dance—just one—and then I’d make sure the message was heard.

I locked eyes with my father, my chest tightening as he raised his glass in my direction, a lazy, self-satisfied smirk tugging at his lips. It wasn’t pride I saw there—if anything, it was indifference, laced with amusement. A cold wave of betrayal surged through me, sharp and unrelenting. In his eyes, I wasn’t his daughter. I was nothing more than a pawn, an object to display and barter, a pretty distraction to curry favor with Robert Solas.

"Let’s dance," Robert said smoothly.

My eyes dropped to his hand, still firmly gripping mine. Every instinct screamed to pull away, but instead, I forced myself to let him lead me toward the center of the dance floor.

Robert’s hand clasped mine firmly as he pulled me into him, his grip unyielding as if he were staking a claim. The heat of his chest pressed against mine, and the overpowering scent of expensive cologne made my stomach churn. He started to sway to the music, his movements confident, controlling.

"Relax, darling," he murmured near my ear, his tone oozing false charm. "You’re far too tense for such a lovely dance."

I stiffened as his other hand found its way to the small of my back, then lower—too low. The touch sent a wave of revulsion through me, my skin crawling beneath his presumptuous fingers.

I jerked slightly, hissing under my breath.

"Stop that. Keep your hands where they belong." My voice was low but sharp, brimming with barely contained disgust.

Robert tilted his head back, a smirk tugging at his lips.

"Oh, come now. Don’t be so uptight, Alina," Robert murmured, his tone light but dripping with condescension. His hand remained firmly on me, his fingers tracing slow, deliberate circles before giving my backside a possessive squeeze.

A fresh wave of disgust and fury surged through me. Leaning in close, I hissed into his ear, my voice low but sharp as a blade.

"Get. Your. Hands. Off. My. Ass."

I pulled back just enough to meet his gaze, my eyes blazing with warning, daring him to push me any further. Robert’s smirk only widened, his amusement barely masking the darker intent lurking beneath his polished exterior.

But his hand slid away—slowly, deliberately—as though he wanted me to know he was only humoring me for now.

He leaned down closer, his voice dropping to a whisper that sent a shiver down my spine—but not the kind he’d have wanted.

"You might want to watch that temper, sweetheart. You’re making it far too tempting to see how far I can push you."

“You know what, Robert?” I said sharply as we reached the center of the room, my voice slicing through the elegant hum of violins.

“I don’t know what my father has promised you or what kind of deal he’s dangling, but let me make one thing crystal clear—I’m not part of the bargain.”

Robert raised an eyebrow, his smile cool and calculated, a glint of amusement flickering in his eyes as though he found my defiance entertaining. Without warning, his arm tightened around my waist, pulling me flush against him.

His breath brushed against my ear as he leaned in, his tone dropping to a low, menacing whisper that sent a chill down my spine.

"Oh, but you are, Alina. You just don’t realize it yet. Your father offered you up on a silver platter, and I’m not a man who walks away from a deal. So why don’t you save yourself the trouble and play nice?"

I froze, the air around us feeling heavier, suffocating. My heart pounded as his words sunk in, every syllable laced with danger, a subtle reminder of the power he wielded.

"I’m not something to be bartered with," I hissed, struggling against his hold, but he only smirked, his grip unrelenting.

I glanced toward the edge of the room where Arthur stood, glass raised like a toast, watching us dance with the satisfied smirk of a man who thought he’d just closed a deal. My stomach churned at the sight.