Chapter 5 - The Dance of Defiance
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For three agonizing seconds, Devan Marshall just stared at the slender, calloused hand offered to him.
The ballroom behind Naya grew impossibly quiet. The clinking of silverware stopped. The muted conversations died. Six hundred pairs of eyes locked onto the head table, watching a nameless maid dare to touch the untouchable king.
“If you touch me,” Devan warned softly, his gaze flicking to her face, “they will destroy you just to get to me.”
“I’ve dealt with worse than a room full of arrogant men in expensive suits,” Naya replied, her hand not wavering an inch. “Are we going to dance, or are we going to let Camilla’s father win?”
Devan’s hazel eyes burned with a sudden, dark fire.
He reached out and wrapped his large, strong hand around hers. His grip was firm, anchoring him to her. With his other hand, he engaged the joystick of his chair.
Naya stepped backward, guiding him away from the head table and out onto the polished oak dance floor.
The bandleader, terrified but professional, immediately counted off a slow, melancholic jazz standard.
Naya didn't know how to waltz, and Devan couldn't stand, but they moved together with a strange, hypnotic grace. She held his hand, taking slow, deliberate steps backward while his chair glided smoothly in rhythm with her.
“You’re out of your depth, Walker,” Devan murmured, glancing at her name tag as they turned.
“Probably. But you look less like a victim now, don't you?”
He pulled her slightly closer, spinning the chair with expert precision so that her back was to the Rossi family, shielding her from their furious glares.
“You have no idea the war you just started,” he said.
“I need the overtime pay,” Naya quipped, though her heart was hammering against her ribs.
May you like
Around them, the silence broke. Whispers erupted like a shockwave. Don Rossi stood up from his table, his face purple with rage at the sight of the crippled boss mocking his daughter's absence with a servant.
Devan noticed the movement. He didn't flinch. He just held Naya’s hand tighter, a king reclaiming his throne in front of his enemies.
