Chapter 2 Miss King
The ballroom doors opened again behind us, letting in a sweep of cooler night air and the distant scent of rain drifting in from the gardens beyond the estate.
Then my father straightened slightly. Interesting.
I turned toward the entrance just in time to see two men step inside.
For a second, the room seemed to tilt strangely around them, not because they entered loudly, but because they didn’t.
The crowd parted almost instinctively as they crossed the marble floor toward us, both dressed in black suits tailored close over broad athletic frames, both carrying themselves with the same dangerous quietness that immediately separated them from the polished predators filling the ballroom. These men did not posture for attention.
They assessed, measured and calculated.
Twins. Very obviously twins.
The similarities hit first. Dark brown hair cropped short. Sharp jawlines. Tall enough to make most men in the room seem suddenly smaller. The same grey eyes, pale and cold beneath the ballroom lights.
But the differences came just as quickly.
The one on the left moved like controlled violence. Every step looked economical. Calm. Focused. His expression remained unreadable as his gaze swept the ballroom once, missing absolutely nothing, and when his eyes briefly landed on me, something unsettling tightened low in my stomach before I could stop it.
Jesus. That man looked at people like he was already calculating outcomes.
The twin beside him carried the same lethal build but wore it differently, his tie loosened slightly at the throat, amusement ghosting at the corner of his mouth as his gaze moved through the crowd with easy confidence. Less restrained. More dangerous in a different way.
The kind of man who smiled right before making terrible decisions.
Well. That certainly felt promising for my mental stability.
“They’re late,” I murmured.
“They’re efficient,” my father corrected.
The twins stopped in front of us.
Up close, they were even more intimidating. Not the flashy kind of intimidating mafia men usually were, draped in watches and ego and expensive threats. No, this was worse. Cleaner. Sharper. The kind of intimidation carved into soldiers rather than criminals.
The quieter twin spoke first.
“Miss King.”
His voice was deep and controlled, roughened slightly at the edges like gravel beneath velvet, and the sound of it slid unexpectedly beneath my skin.
No smile. No unnecessary charm. Just calm professionalism.
I tilted my head slightly. “That sounds very formal, considering we haven’t even been introduced.”
Something flickered briefly in his eyes.
Beside him, the other twin smirked.
Ah. So one of them had a personality.
My father gestured toward them. “Luca Vale. Leon Vale. Former special forces. They’ll be taking over your personal security detail effective immediately.”
I blinked once. Then slowly lowered my champagne glass.
“You hired me bodyguards for my engagement party?”
Leon’s mouth twitched like he was actively trying not to laugh. Luca didn’t react at all.
“The threats against the family have increased,” my father said.
“And naturally your first concern was me.”
“It was the continuation of the bloodline.”
There it was, the brutal truth. Romance is truly thriving tonight.
I stared at him for a moment too long after that, champagne suspended halfway to my mouth while irritation curled hot and familiar beneath my ribs.
The continuation of the bloodline.
Not my safety. Not my happiness. Not even my survival, if we were being brutally honest with ourselves.
Just legacy. Just the dynasty.
The preservation of the King empire, neatly secured through marriage contracts and future heirs like I was some particularly expensive breeding horse dressed in couture and diamonds.
“Comforting,” I said dryly before finally taking another sip of champagne. “I’ll embroider it onto a pillow.”
Leon coughed suddenly beside Luca, suspiciously timed with the appearance of amusement in his eyes.
Luca remained perfectly expressionless. I already hated him a little for that.
No one that attractive had any right being that emotionally disciplined. It felt arrogant somehow.
My father ignored me entirely, which was his preferred method of parenting whenever I became inconveniently human. “You will listen to them. You will inform them before leaving the estate. You will not dismiss them under any circumstances.”
I glanced between the twins slowly. “You make it sound like I’m a flight risk.”
Leon finally spoke, his voice smoother than his brother’s, carrying the faintest trace of amusement beneath the professionalism. “Are you?”
His accent was subtle, difficult to place beneath years of military neutrality, but there was warmth in it compared to Luca’s colder cadence.
I liked it immediately.
“I once climbed out of a second-floor bathroom window during a fundraiser because a senator tried to explain cryptocurrency to me for forty-five minutes,” I admitted.
Leon’s grin appeared fully then, quick and sharp and devastatingly attractive. “Good to know.”
“Valentina,” my father warned.
“What? Honesty builds trust.”
Luca’s gaze settled on me again then, direct enough that my pulse did something deeply embarrassing beneath my ribs. Up close, his eyes were lighter than I first thought, somewhere between storm clouds and silver smoke, unnervingly focused in a way that made me feel studied rather than simply looked at.
He was assessing me. Not admiring, definitely not flirting. Just cold assessment.
I should have found that insulting. Instead, against all common sense, it made me want his attention more.
Which probably said terrible things about my psychological health.
“Miss King,” Luca said evenly, “how often do you leave your security detail without permission?”
Straight to interrogation. How charming.
I smiled sweetly. “Often enough that Father had to recruit matching attack dogs.”
Leon looked openly entertained now, while Luca remained carved from stone. God, I wanted to shake him.
“Former special forces,” Leon corrected lightly.
“Same thing with better tailoring.”
A faint sound escaped Leon that might have been a laugh.
Luca’s eyes narrowed almost imperceptibly, though whether at me or his brother’s reaction, I couldn’t tell.
Interesting. Very interesting.
Across the ballroom, the music shifted to something slower and more orchestral while waiters moved elegantly between guests, carrying silver trays glittering with crystal glasses and tiny bits of food no one actually wanted to eat. Outside the enormous windows lining the far wall, storm clouds gathered over the estate gardens, darkening the night sky beyond the glowing grounds until occasional flickers of distant lightning illuminated the tree line in pale silver flashes.
The atmosphere inside the ballroom remained warm and golden despite the storm building outside, though tension, invisible beneath the luxury, threaded through the room. I had grown up around enough dangerous men to recognise it instinctively. Security moved more frequently near the entrances while conversations remained polished, but quieter somehow, as though everyone had begun listening more carefully than they were speaking.
Even my father seemed sharper tonight.
That unsettled me more than I wanted to admit.
Then, without another word to me, Alaric’s attention shifted fully back to the ballroom around us, his expression hardening into that familiar mask of controlled authority before he turned and disappeared into the crowd of politicians, criminals, and businessmen waiting for pieces of his attention like starving men at a king’s table.
And just like that, I was left standing beneath the chandeliers with my two armed bodyguards, and the distinct feeling that something terrible was moving toward us through the storm.
That unsettled me more than I wanted to admit.
