Before Sloane could even open her mouth, Lucas stepped forward, his expression dark and unyielding. “Apologies,” he said coldly. “The next dance is mine.” Victor arched a perfectly groomed brow, clearly unimpressed. “And you are?” he asked with condescension. “It’s common courtesy at a ball to switch partners.” Then, turning back to Sloane, he switched languages with suave precision. “Beautiful lady, I’m still waiting for your answer.” He never got it. Shawn appeared out of nowhere, grabbing Victor by the back of his collar. “You want to dance?” he said with a grin. “I’ll dance with you!” Before Victor could react, Shawn spun him toward the center of the ballroom with startling speed. One arm snaked around Victor’s waist, the other seized his hand, and in the next instant, the two were locked in a forced tango. “W–what are you doing?” Victor sputtered, trying to wriggle free. “Dancing, of course!” Shawn flashed a wolfish smile, teeth gleaming under the chandelier. “Didn’t you say you wanted a dance? I’ll make sure you enjoy it.” The orchestra, sensing the commotion, somehow shifted into an energetic Argentine tango. Shawn led—if “led” could describe the chaos—dragging Victor into wild spins and exaggerated dips. Victor’s expensive Italian shoes were stomped beyond recognition, his perfectly styled blond hair now a disaster of frizz and disarray. “Let me go!” Victor shouted, his voice cracking with panic. “Oh, come on,” Shawn laughed, executing a flawless spin before pulling him back hard. “What’s the rush? At an Oliver family ball, we always dance until we’re satisfied!” Laughter rippled through the crowd. The society ladies who recognized Shawn could barely stand upright, clutching each other for support. “Oh my God,” one of them gasped between giggles. “The Oliver family’s little devil is still just as wild as ever!” Sloane, half-hidden in Lucas’s arms, was laughing so hard her shoulders shook. “He’s merciless…” Lucas tightened his arm around her waist, amusement glinting in his eyes. “Looks like I won’t have to worry about chasing off your admirers anymore. Your cousin’s already handling it for me.” By the time the song ended, Victor was panting heavily, his designer suit crumpled like old paper. Shawn released him with an elegant flourish, landing a perfect finishing pose as Victor stumbled and fell flat on the floor. The room erupted into applause and laughter. Shawn, the picture of charm again, bent down to help him up, clapping a friendly hand on his shoulder. “You’ve got heart, man,” he said cheerfully. “But you should really work on your stamina.” Victor’s face turned scarlet—half from exertion, half from humiliation. Meanwhile, Sloane had already been swept away by Lucas, who led her onto the terrace overlooking the moonlit gardens. The night air was cool, fragrant with the faint scent of roses drifting from below. Lucas tilted her chin up gently and kissed her—soft, lingering, and full of warmth. “Finally,” he murmured against her lips, “no one to interrupt us.” Sloane leaned into him, resting her head against his chest, listening to the steady rhythm of his heartbeat. “Lucas…” she whispered, looking up at him. The moonlight painted her face in silver hues, every line of her features delicate and luminous. “Tonight feels like a dream.” His long fingers brushed her cheek, tracing down to her lips before stopping there. “It’s not a dream,” he said, his voice low and rough with emotion. “From now on, you’ll never be alone again.” Her eyes grew wet with unshed tears. She parted her lips to reply— And the terrace door burst open. “Ahem,” Kaizen’s voice cut through the quiet. He stood in the doorway, expression stiff. “Mr. Jeffrey says it’s time to cut the cake. The main guest can’t be missing.” Lucas sighed, shoulders slumping in defeat, while Sloane tried—and failed—to hide her laughter. She slipped her hand into his. “Come on,” she teased, eyes dancing. “We can’t keep Grandpa waiting.”