Chapter 6: Igniting Flames
2650words
"Ready?" Thorne appeared beside me, impeccable in a black tuxedo that emphasized his broad shoulders and lean physique.
I smoothed the silk of my champagne-colored gown, a custom creation that draped like liquid gold against my skin. "As I'll ever be."
His eyes traveled slowly from my upswept hair to the delicate heels on my feet, his gaze a tangible caress that sent warmth spreading through my body. "You look..." he paused, seeming to search for an adequate word, "transcendent."
The unexpected compliment caught me off guard. "Thank you," I replied, my voice softer than intended. "You clean up rather well yourself."
A hint of a smile touched his lips as he offered his arm. "Shall we give them a show?"
I placed my hand in the crook of his elbow, feeling the solid strength beneath the fine fabric. "Let's make it convincing."
As we descended the staircase, conversation gradually ceased, all eyes turning toward us. I felt the weight of their scrutiny—the curiosity, the speculation, the judgment—and lifted my chin slightly, meeting their gazes with practiced confidence.
"Ladies and gentlemen," Thorne addressed the assembled guests once we reached the bottom of the stairs. "Thank you for joining us this evening to celebrate our engagement."
His hand found the small of my back, warm and steady. The simple touch shouldn't have affected me so strongly, yet I found myself leaning into it, seeking the connection.
"Elara has made me the happiest of men," he continued, his deep voice carrying effortlessly through the grand hall. "Though our relationship developed under... unusual circumstances, I consider myself fortunate beyond measure."
He turned to me then, his gray eyes holding mine with an intensity that made my breath catch. This was part of the performance, I reminded myself. The adoring gaze, the gentle touch—all carefully calculated for our audience.
"To Elara," he raised his champagne flute, never breaking eye contact. "Who has brought light into my life when I least expected it."
The guests echoed his toast, a sea of crystal glasses catching the light. I sipped my champagne, using the moment to compose myself. The sincerity in his voice had sounded so genuine that for a heartbeat, I'd almost believed it myself.
"They're waiting," Thorne murmured close to my ear, his breath warm against my skin.
I glanced at the expectant faces surrounding us and understood immediately. The kiss—the public seal on our engagement. We had discussed this briefly during preparations, agreeing on a chaste, appropriate display of affection.
"Just a peck," I whispered back, my heart suddenly racing.
Thorne's hand came up to cup my cheek, his touch surprisingly gentle for a man known for his ruthlessness. "Trust me," he replied softly, for my ears alone.
He leaned in slowly, giving me time to prepare. I expected a brief meeting of lips—perfunctory, performed for our audience and nothing more.
What happened instead shattered every expectation.
His lips touched mine with exquisite gentleness, a whisper of contact that sent electricity racing down my spine. For a moment, neither of us moved, suspended in that first delicate connection. Then, as if drawn by some invisible force, I leaned into him, my free hand finding its way to his chest.
The kiss deepened, Thorne's arm encircling my waist to draw me closer. His lips moved against mine with increasing urgency, no longer performing for our audience but responding to something more primal, more genuine. I tasted champagne and something uniquely him—a flavor I hadn't known I craved until that moment.
The world around us faded—the murmuring guests, the tinkling crystal, the soft music—all receding until there was only this: his mouth on mine, his hand at my waist, the solid warmth of his chest beneath my palm. My fingers curled into the fabric of his tuxedo, anchoring myself as unexpected desire swept through me like wildfire.
When we finally parted, both slightly breathless, the applause and cheers from our guests seemed to come from a great distance. Thorne's eyes had darkened to storm-cloud gray, his pupils dilated as he looked down at me with an expression I couldn't quite decipher.
"That was..." I began, my voice barely audible.
"Convincing," he finished, though something in his tone suggested he meant something else entirely.
The rest of the evening passed in a blur of congratulations and small talk, yet I remained acutely aware of Thorne's presence beside me—the brush of his hand against mine, the warmth of his palm at my back as he guided me through the crowd, the subtle scent of his cologne that now seemed imprinted on my senses.
"You're quite the actress," Dominic's voice cut through my distraction as I stood alone for a moment near the champagne fountain. "That kiss was Oscar-worthy."
I turned to face my former fiancé, noting the barely concealed bitterness in his expression. "Dominic. I'm surprised you came."
"Family obligation," he replied with a shrug that didn't quite achieve nonchalance. "Besides, I wouldn't miss seeing Uncle Thorne play the besotted fiancé. It's quite the performance from a man who once claimed emotional attachments were a weakness."
Something in his tone made me pause. "What do you mean?"
Dominic's smile didn't reach his eyes. "Ask him about his first kiss. Tonight might have been more significant than you realize."
Before I could question him further, he melted back into the crowd, leaving me with an unsettling curiosity. Surely Dominic was just trying to cause trouble—a man like Thorne, with his looks and power, would have had countless relationships.
Wouldn't he?
The orchestra began a waltz, drawing couples to the center of the ballroom. I searched the crowd for Thorne, finding him engaged in conversation with several board members near the terrace doors. He caught my eye briefly, nodding in acknowledgment before returning to his discussion.
"May I have this dance?" a voice asked at my elbow.
I turned to find Xavier Huntington—heir to a rival pharmaceutical company and, if memory served, someone who had expressed interest in me before my engagement to Dominic. His golden-boy good looks and easy charm had never particularly impressed me, but he'd always been polite.
"I'm waiting for my fiancé," I replied, glancing again toward Thorne, who appeared deeply engaged in his business conversation.
Xavier followed my gaze and smiled knowingly. "Blackwood seems occupied with more important matters. Surely he wouldn't begrudge you one dance?"
I hesitated, noting that Thorne hadn't even looked our way despite Xavier's arrival. A petty part of me—the part still unsettled by that kiss and its implications—made the decision.
"One dance," I agreed, placing my hand in Xavier's outstretched palm.
He led me to the dance floor with practiced ease, his hand settling at my waist as we joined the waltz. "You look stunning tonight, Elara," he commented as we moved through the steps. "Engagement clearly agrees with you."
"Thank you," I replied automatically, my attention divided between maintaining polite conversation and tracking Thorne's position across the room.
"I must admit, I was surprised by the announcement," Xavier continued, guiding me through a turn. "Everyone expected you to marry Dominic. Then suddenly you're engaged to his uncle—quite the plot twist."
I met his curious gaze with a practiced smile. "Life rarely follows the expected path."
"Indeed," he agreed, his hand sliding slightly lower on my back than strictly necessary. "Though I can't help wondering if you might have considered other options had you known of certain... interests."
The implication was clear, and I suppressed a sigh. Xavier had apparently harbored feelings I'd never encouraged nor acknowledged. "I'm quite content with my choice," I replied firmly.
His grip tightened slightly as he pulled me closer than the dance required. "Are you? Thorne Blackwood has a reputation for coldness that extends beyond the boardroom. Hardly the passionate partner a woman like you deserves."
I stiffened, preparing to extract myself from his embrace, when I felt a presence behind me.
"Mind if I cut in?" Thorne's voice, deceptively casual but underlined with steel, came from just over my shoulder.
Xavier's expression flickered with disappointment before settling into a polite mask. "Of course not. You're a lucky man, Blackwood."
"I'm aware," Thorne replied coolly, his hand replacing Xavier's at my waist with a possessiveness that sent heat spiraling through me.
As Xavier retreated, Thorne drew me against him, closer than propriety strictly dictated. "Enjoying yourself?" he asked, his tone neutral though his eyes were anything but.
"Just being sociable," I replied, noting the tension in his jaw. "You seemed occupied with business matters."
"I'm never too occupied to notice when another man has his hands on my fiancée," he stated, guiding me into a turn with effortless grace that surprised me. For a man who reportedly avoided social functions, he danced remarkably well.
"It was just a dance," I pointed out, though secretly pleased by his evident displeasure. "Hardly cause for concern."
Thorne's eyes narrowed slightly. "Huntington has wanted you for years. His father tried to arrange a match before your engagement to Dominic."
This was news to me. "How would you know that?"
"I make it my business to know everything about potential competitors," he replied smoothly. "In business and... other matters."
The implication sent a shiver down my spine. "You've been monitoring me for years?"
"Observing," he corrected, his hand splaying possessively across my lower back. "There's a difference."
We moved in silence for several measures, the chemistry between us creating a bubble of tension that seemed to separate us from the other dancers. His lead was confident but not domineering, his movements perfectly attuned to mine as if we'd danced together countless times before.
"Was it necessary for him to hold you quite so close?" Thorne finally asked, his voice deceptively casual.
I glanced up, surprised by the question. "I didn't realize you were watching so carefully."
"I see everything that matters," he replied, his gaze intense. "His hand was lower than appropriate. And you smiled at him."
The accusation was so unexpected I nearly missed a step. "I was being polite."
"Is that what you call it?" Thorne's grip tightened fractionally. "From where I stood, it looked like flirtation."
Irritation flared within me. "You were across the room, deep in conversation. What did it matter to you who I danced with or how I smiled?"
His expression darkened. "It matters."
The simple declaration hung between us, loaded with implications neither of us seemed prepared to address. The waltz ended, but Thorne made no move to release me as the orchestra seamlessly transitioned to another piece.
"Dominic said something interesting," I ventured, watching his reaction carefully. "About tonight's kiss."
Thorne's expression remained impassive, though something flickered in his eyes. "My nephew says many things, most of them designed to cause trouble."
"He suggested it might have been significant for you," I persisted. "Something about it being your first?"
A muscle ticked in Thorne's jaw, his steps faltering almost imperceptibly. "Dominic should learn to mind his own business."
"Then it's true?" I asked, genuinely surprised. "That was your first kiss?"
Thorne's gaze hardened. "Does it matter?"
"I'm just surprised," I admitted. "You're thirty years old, successful, not unattractive—"
"Not unattractive," he repeated, a hint of dry amusement breaking through his tension. "High praise indeed."
I flushed, realizing how my words had sounded. "You know what I mean. It seems unlikely you'd have reached this age without..."
"Without physical intimacy?" he finished when I trailed off. "I didn't say I was inexperienced, Elara. Merely selective."
The distinction intrigued me. "Selective enough that you've never kissed anyone before tonight?"
Thorne guided me toward the terrace doors, away from the curious ears of nearby guests. Once outside in the cool evening air, he released me, creating distance between us for the first time all evening.
"My focus has always been on building my empire," he stated, his back to me as he gazed out over the moonlit gardens. "Relationships were... unnecessary complications."
"But surely there were opportunities," I pressed, genuinely curious now. "Women must have thrown themselves at you."
He turned, his expression unreadable in the shadows. "Of course. But I've never been interested in meaningless physical encounters. A kiss, to me, is not a casual gesture."
The implication of his words settled over me like a physical weight. If Thorne had never kissed anyone before, yet had kissed me with such passion tonight...
"Why me?" I asked softly.
He stepped closer, his tall frame silhouetted against the night sky. "You know why."
"Tell me anyway," I insisted, needing to hear the words.
Thorne's hand came up to cup my cheek, his touch gentle despite the intensity in his gaze. "Because from the moment I first saw you five years ago at that charity gala, no other woman has existed for me."
The confession stole my breath. "Five years? But I was with Dominic—"
"Yes," he acknowledged, a hint of bitterness creeping into his tone. "You were with my nephew, who never deserved you. Who couldn't see your worth beyond your family name and fortune."
"So this engagement," I began, trying to process this revelation, "it's not just business for you?"
His thumb traced my lower lip, the simple touch sending sparks through my nervous system. "It never was."
The admission hung between us, reshaping everything I thought I understood about our arrangement. Before I could respond, Thorne's phone buzzed in his pocket. He ignored it, his gaze never leaving mine.
"We should return to our guests," I said finally, overwhelmed by the implications of his confession.
Thorne nodded, though reluctance was evident in his expression. "This conversation isn't finished, Elara."
"I know," I replied softly.
As we reentered the ballroom, his hand at the small of my back, I struggled to reconcile this new information with my carefully constructed plans. Thorne Blackwood had been watching me for years, harboring feelings I'd never suspected. Our engagement—what I had considered a business arrangement with mutual benefits—meant something entirely different to him.
And that kiss—his first kiss—had been given to me.
The realization sent warmth spreading through my chest, a dangerous tenderness I couldn't afford if I wanted to maintain control of my revenge plan. Caring for Thorne hadn't been part of the equation. Using him as a weapon against Dominic and Vivienne had been straightforward when I believed him equally pragmatic and emotionally detached.
But now? Now the lines were blurring, complications multiplying with every shared glance, every casual touch.
As the evening progressed, I found myself hyperaware of Thorne's presence—the subtle possessiveness in his hand at my waist, the warmth in his eyes when they met mine across the room, the slight curve of his lips that wasn't quite a smile but suggested private amusement meant only for me.
When the last guests finally departed well after midnight, I found myself alone with Thorne in the grand hall, an expectant silence stretching between us.
"Stay," he said simply, the single word laden with meaning.
In my previous life, I might have hesitated, bound by propriety and uncertainty. But death and rebirth had taught me the value of seizing moments that might never come again.
"Yes," I replied, taking his outstretched hand. "I'll stay."
As he led me up the grand staircase toward his private quarters, I realized that my carefully plotted revenge had taken an unexpected turn. The weapon I had chosen was becoming something far more dangerous—someone I might actually love.
And for the first time since my rebirth, I wasn't certain if that was a complication or a blessing.
