Chapter 3

Every powerful figure in that room held their breath while they waited for me to slip and to see if Alistair would end up the evening's joke.

After all, I was the legitimate daughter of a general, and I had been reduced to a courtesan, which made me the sort of scandal that Venton had not stopped talking about for months.

Alistair finally lifted his gaze. His eyes sliced straight through me, deep and penetrating, as if he could see right into my soul.

I held his gaze. I did not flinch or look away. My face still wore that polite, flawless smile.

He watched me for a long moment before he finally spoke. His voice was low, edged with steel. "Look at me."

I lifted my head slowly, but he said nothing further and simply kept his eyes fixed on me while time seemed to freeze in that moment.

The hall went completely silent, and for a long moment not a single guest moved.

I could sense Grant's breathing grow heavier by the second. He was on the verge of losing control. Just then, Alistair smiled.

His lips curled upward, just slightly, and the chill that had settled over the room seemed to crack. "Not bad," he said. That was all. He gave me a commanding wave. "Come. Pour for me."

I moved to his side and picked up the wine jug from the table, solid and heavy in my hands, and with a steady grip, I filled his cup.

My movements were smooth and unhurried without a trace of nerves, and the heady scent of wine drifted through the air.

He lifted the cup but did not drink. He simply stared at me, his eyes never leaving mine. "You are Charlotte Quinn?"

"Yes," I replied.

"Grant Quinn's daughter?" he asked.

"Yes."

My answers made Grant's face darken further. Shame and anger twisted his features. He shot to his feet. "Your Grace!"

Alistair raised a hand, halting him cold. "General Quinn, settle down. I am merely exchanging a few words with the daughter of an old friend." He put extra weight on the words "old friend," making sure no one missed his meaning.

Grant's face flushed and then went pale. Finally, he sat back down, his jaw clenched tight.

I understood exactly what was happening. Alistair was putting Grant in his place. And he was letting me know he knew precisely who I was.

What was he truly after? I lowered my gaze, masking the calculation in my eyes. Whatever he threw at me, I would meet it head-on. No matter his intentions, this was my one chance. I had to seize it.

The banquet continued.

The officials took turns toasting Alistair. They showered him with insincere flattery, each trying to outdo the last.

Alistair accepted every toast, draining his cup without pause. Yet from start to finish, he did not spare a single extra word for anyone. He drank in silence, as if he meant to wash away every trouble in the world with each swallow.

And I stood quietly behind him, refilling his cup like a well-trained attendant.

I could feel countless eyes stabbing into me. Grant's glare was the fiercest of all. It felt hot enough to scorch a hole through my back. I acted as though I felt nothing.

After several rounds, Kevin was clearly drunk and emboldened. He wobbled toward me, cup in hand. "Charlotte, come drink with me," he slurred, reaching for my hand.

I stepped back on instinct, evading his grasp.

His face fell. His embarrassment was plain for all to see. "What? You think you are too good for me? A harlot like you?"

His voice carried. The entire room heard. The atmosphere turned icy in an instant. Grant's fists clenched so hard that his knuckles cracked.

He might not care about me, but he could not stand to see the Quinn name trampled here, in front of all these people.

I looked at him. My heart was cold as ice.

I knew that if I called for help, Grant would certainly leap to my defense. But I would not do it. I did not need his phony righteousness. I did not need anyone's pity either.

My eyes found Alistair. He was the only one here with the power to decide my fate.

He lounged back in his chair, his expression utterly unreadable. He simply watched me, as if waiting for me to make my choice.

Then it struck me. This was his test. He wanted to see if I had what it took to be a piece on his board.

I gave him a smile. The flawless smile I had spent three months perfecting.

I picked up a cup of wine from Alistair's table and stepped over to Kevin. "I'm at fault. I will drink this cup as punishment to make amends to you." My voice was steady and composed. I tipped my head back and drained the cup in one swallow.

The fiery liquid burned my throat like a blaze. I kept my face smooth. I held up the empty cup for him to see. "Satisfied, Lord Bradford?"

Kevin was stunned. He had not expected that a woman like me could drink with such composure. He was at a loss for words.

Just then, Alistair spoke, "Mr. Bradford." His voice was quiet, yet it sent a shiver through the room. "She belongs to me. If you wish to drink with her, you will need my permission first."

The alcohol seemed to evaporate from Kevin's system. With a heavy thud, he dropped to his knees. Cold sweat streamed down his face. "Your Grace, forgive me! I was too drunk!"

Alistair did not spare him another glance. He turned his attention to me and reached out his hand. "Come here."

I walked over. He took my hand and drew me into his arms. I found myself seated on his lap. He held me there. His arms were broad but cold as ice. A faint metallic scent clung to him.

I went rigid. He only pulled me closer, ensuring I could not break free. Right there in front of everyone, Alistair leaned down and whispered in my ear. "Well done. I like clever women."

My heart thundered in my chest because I knew I had gambled correctly and that I had finally caught the attention of the most powerful man in Venton.

*****

Sitting on Alistair's lap, I felt restless. Uneasy. As though I were perched on a bed of needles. His presence was overpowering, intense. It wrapped around me so tightly I could barely breathe. Even through the layers of our clothes, his body heat seeped through. Impossible to ignore.

The hall fell utterly silent. Everyone was too stunned by what had just happened to make a sound. Grant was the most shaken of all.

His eyes went red as he glared at me. He stared as if I were utterly shameless. I met Grant's glare and scoffed inwardly.

He was the one who had cast me into this hell. He could spare me the wounded act. His hypocrisy turned my stomach.