Dashley had already informed her father, Williams, about the party Celine had invited her to. So when Axel showed up at their door to pick her up, Williams didn't object. Not exactly, anyway.
But he did make her promise to be back before eleven—just like her usual closing hour at work.
The party was scheduled to begin at 7 p.m.
"With the way that boy always stays till I come pick you up from your job," Williams muttered, eyeing Axel as he stood on the porch, "I thought he'd be the one picking you up."
"Dad!" Dashley frowned, flustered.
She cleared her throat. "Axel, meet my dad. Dad, this is Axel."
Axel nodded politely. "Nice to meet you, sir."
Williams grunted in response. "Bring her back before eleven."
"I will," Axel assured him.
"Okay, bye Dad," Dashley called over her shoulder as she followed Axel outside.
"Have fun," Williams said, his voice still a little wary.
At the car, Axel opened the door for her, flashing a small smile. "You look beautiful. I see you went for something simple… and perfect."
Dashley blushed slightly. "Thanks. I'm not really a fan of flashy."
"You look effortlessly elegant," he added, playfully tipping an imaginary hat in a fake British accent.
Dashley giggled.
The drive to Celine's house, where the party was being held, took a while. The area was out of town, large and impressive. When they arrived, Axel once again helped her out of the car like a proper gentleman.
The party was already alive—guests mingled, music floated in the air, laughter echoed from different corners of the house.
As soon as they stepped into the crowd, Celine spotted them and rushed over, looking stunning in her wine-red dress.
"I thought you weren't coming!" she gasped dramatically.
"Come on, I'm not that late," Dashley said with a grin.
"You're thirty minutes late."
"You didn't actually expect me right at seven, did you?"
"It wouldn't have hurt," Celine teased before Axel cleared his throat.
"Oh! Axel—I'm sorry, I got distracted by Dashley."
"It's fine. I guess you were just… excited to see her."
Celine smiled sheepishly. "Can you keep your date company for a while? I have a few people I need to say hi to."
"Of course," she nodded. "This date of yours is my friend, after all."
Axel turned to Dashley. "I'll be back soon."
"Okay," she said, watching him go.
Dashley's eyes subtly searched the room. She had spotted Molly almost instantly—hard not to with how loudly she made herself known—but there was no sign of him.
So maybe Molly really isn't his date after all…
"Dashley!" Celine snapped, nudging her. "Are you even listening to me?"
"Oh—sorry. What were you saying?"
Celine gave her a suspicious look, then continued telling her about the party's purpose, introducing her to a few people. But throughout it all, Dashley kept glancing around the room.
Maybe he didn't come after all… she sighed to herself.
Unbeknownst to her, Kellan had been watching since the moment she walked in.
He sat in the shadows of the balcony-level lounge, away from the main crowd, nursing a drink and letting the noise blur around him.
She looked breathtaking. The soft dress she wore shimmered beneath the golden chandeliers, her hair curled just enough to frame her face, her smile reserved yet dazzling. He couldn't look away.
And he hated seeing Axel next to her.
He saw how she occasionally searched the room. Was she looking for someone? For him?
Kellan didn't usually stay this long at events like this—hell, he didn't usually attend at all. But tonight was different. He had something he wanted to do… or maybe something he wanted to feel.
His thoughts flickered briefly to his parents. Watching Mr. McCarthy call up his wife to thank her mid-speech made a tightness grow in Kellan's chest.
That's what it's supposed to be like, he thought bitterly. Not like my family. Not like her.
His mother didn't see him—only his usefulness. A pawn. An heir. Molly only reinforced that, always hovering, always trying to tie herself to him like a trophy.
Not like Dashley…
When he turned his gaze back, Dashley was smiling at the couple giving the speech. A soft, wistful smile. Then her face subtly shifted—longing, sadness, maybe even frustration.
So I'm not the only one craving something real, he thought.
As the speech ended, slow music began. Mr. and Mrs. McCarthy danced first, before other couples joined them. Kellan's jaw tightened as he saw Axel hold Dashley's hand and pull her onto the floor.
Even Jace and Celine were dancing now.
Kellan turned away.
He didn't want to watch.
But a few beats later, he stood and walked toward them.
Dashley was dancing slowly with Axel, her hand resting lightly in his, the other on his shoulder. He cracked a joke that made her smile—but her attention wavered when she saw a figure approaching.
Kellan.
He looked striking in a dark navy tuxedo, perfectly tailored and effortlessly regal. Her heart skipped.
When did he even arrive?
Her eyes flicked to where Molly stood. The look she shot at them was venomous.
Kellan came to a stop beside Axel and tapped his shoulder.
"You mind if I dance with your date?" he asked calmly, but firmly.
Axel hesitated. His hand on Dashley's waist lingered protectively until she spoke.
"It's alright, Axel."
"…Sure," Axel finally said and stepped back.
Kellan stepped forward, placing one hand confidently at her waist. Dashley sucked in a quiet breath as he gently drew her closer, his other hand guiding hers to his chest. She could feel his warmth even through the layers of fabric.
The music swelled around them, but everything else faded.
"You weren't on the dance floor earlier," she said softly, trying to focus on anything but how close they were.
"I was here the whole time."
"Then where were you hiding?"
"Were you looking for me?" he asked, and she could hear the smirk in his voice—low and near her neck.
She didn't answer.
"I saw you," he murmured. "Looking… and stunning, by the way. That dress was made for you."
His voice vibrated against her skin. She could feel him inhaling gently at her neck, and her breath hitched.
"I wished I was the one beside you all night. Not Axel. I wanted to be the one who made you smile… who held your hand… who watched your eyes light up."
He pulled back slightly, just enough to meet her eyes. His grey gaze was soft, deep… and achingly full of something she couldn't name.
"Tell me, Ley. What are you doing to me?"
She couldn't speak. Her throat was dry, heart pounding, lips parted.
The dance ended. But Kellan didn't let go.
"People are watching…" she whispered.
"I don't care."
Still holding her hand, he turned and led her off the dance floor—through the back hallway and out into the garden, the moonlight casting silver shadows on the grass.
As soon as they were alone, Dashley yanked her hand back. "Why did you do that?!"
"Didn't you hear me out there?"
"I did! But it doesn't mean you get to drag me out—"
"I'm sorry," he said quickly, stepping back with both hands raised. "I just… I needed to say it."
She stared at him, heart still racing. She turned, preparing to leave.
"Dashley—wait," he said, grabbing her wrist. "Don't go."
Before she could respond, he leaned in and kissed her.
Her eyes widened at first—his face suddenly so close, his lips soft and warm, pressing gently against hers. A second kiss followed, deeper, more certain. Her breath stilled.
And then, she gave in.
Her eyes fluttered closed as his hand rose to her cheek, fingers tender and sure. The kiss grew with emotion—slow, charged, laced with all the unspoken tension between them.
It wasn't rushed. It was deliberate.
Intimate.
When they finally broke apart, breathless, Dashley stood frozen—her heart caught somewhere between disbelief and something far more dangerous.
Kellan leaned his forehead against hers, still catching his breath.
"…Told you I hadn't forgotten."