//CLARA//

The kiss was punishing. His teeth caught my lower lip, tugging until I gasped, and he used the opportunity to deepen it. His tongue claiming every inch of me he could reach.

"You’re not supposed to be in here," I managed between kisses, my palms flat against his chest. I could feel his heart hammering beneath the wool of his coat.

His lips dragged across my jaw, down the column of my throat as if he wasn’t hearing me.

"Casimir please, listen to me—"

"You’re wearing my ring." He pulled back just enough to look at me. His thumb brushed over the band on my finger. "And you’re standing in a gown meant for another man."

His voice broke on the last word.

He kissed me again before I could respond, softer this time but no less consuming. His hands slid down my sides, feeling the rigid boning of the corset beneath the silk, the curve of my waist that had been compressed to please someone else’s eye.

"I could tear this dress to pieces," he whispered against my lips. "Rip every pearl from the fabric. Shred the veil. Make sure no one ever sees you in it except me."

I should have pushed him away.

The syndicate questions still burned in the back of my mind, the shadows that clung to his business dealings, the violence I’d glimpsed beneath his polished surface. Every rational thought screamed that loving him was dangerous, that I was trading one form of captivity for another.

But his hands were gentle as they cradled my face. His breath came ragged against my lips. And when he looked at me like that—like I was the only solid thing in a world made of smoke—I forgot how to resist.

My fingers curled into the lapels of his morning coat. I pulled him closer, kissing him back just as desperately, just as hungrily, matching him blow for blow.

He made a sound low in his throat, something between a groan and a prayer. His hands found the buttons at the back of the gown, fumbling with the tiny silk loops, desperate to reach the skin beneath.

I felt the fabric loosen at my shoulders, the cool air rushing in where the silk had sealed me in warmth.

"You are the most beautiful thing I have ever seen," he breathed against my lips. "Like a goddess. Something I’d burn for. And I can’t touch you without feeling like I’m committing a sin I’ll never be forgiven for."

His hand slid beneath the loosened bodice. The corset still bound me tight, but above its edge, my skin burned wherever he reached. His fingers traced the swell of my breast above the boning. A whimper escaped my throat.

He kissed the curve of my shoulder where the silk had slipped away. His teeth grazed the skin, and I felt my knees buckle. He caught me, one arm wrapping around my corseted waist, holding me upright as his mouth worked its way back to my lips.

The train of the gown tangled around our feet. The veil had slipped entirely off my head, pooling on the floor like discarded wings. I was half-undressed in my wedding gown, pinned against my own reflection, kissing a man who might be a criminal.

And I couldn’t bring myself to care. Honestly? He could be Jack the Ripper, and I’d still be asking him to stay. To devour me completely.

Let him be the devil. I’d already sold my soul for him.

His hand found the slit in my underskirt and pushed through. His fingers dragged up my bare thigh, past my stocking, past my garter—until they reached the damp heat between my legs.

He didn’t ask. He just pressed, sliding through my folds, finding me slick and ready. I moaned into his mouth, grinding down on his hand, desperate for him to touch me where I ached most.

"Ah—Casimir—"

"I want you." His voice was rough, barely human. "Right here. In this dress. I will ruin you for him, and then I’ll ruin any man fool enough to want what’s mine."

BANG. BANG. BANG.

The pounding on the door shattered the moment like a stone through glass.

"Casimir! Open this door immediately!" Aunt Cornelia’s voice pierced the wood, sharp and furious. "I will have the footmen break it down if you don’t open it this instant!"

We froze. His hand was still on my thigh. His lips were still inches from mine. Our breath mingled in the narrow space between us.

BANG. BANG. BANG.

"I’m counting to ten! One—two—three—"

Casimir’s jaw clenched. His eyes closed, and I watched the war play across his features, the desire to ignore her, to keep going, to damn the consequences warring with the knowledge that we’d already pushed too far.

"Casimir—don’t make me do this—"

He released me slowly. His hand slid from beneath my skirts, but not before he dragged his fingers through my wetness one last time. Then he brought them to his mouth, closed his lips around them, and watched me as he tasted what he’d done to me.

But before he stepped away, he leaned in. His lips brushed the shell of my ear.

"I will have you in this dress." The promise was a whisper. "One way or another."

He straightened, composing himself with visible effort. His hands moved to my bodice, pulling the silk back into place. His fingers were steady as they refastened the buttons he’d just undone. He smoothed the skirt, arranged the train, tucked the loose strands of hair behind my ears.

Then he kissed me softly, achingly gentle, nothing like the desperate claiming of moments before.

When he pulled back, his mask had returned. The controlled, untouchable Casimir the world knew.

He crossed to the door and turned the lock.

Aunt Cornelia burst through like a dam breaking.

Her face was flushed, her finger already raised in accusation.

"The absolute impropriety! Leaving a young woman alone with a man in a state of undress, have you no shame? Not a shred of decency—"

"The fitting is finished," Casimir said calmly. "I merely wished to speak with my niece in private."

"In private! In her wedding gown! What could possibly be more important than the bride’s final fitting?"

"Something you wouldn’t understand, Auntie." He held her gaze, letting the silence stretch. "Something beyond your prejudice. Beyond anything you’re capable of imagining."

She sputtered, the words striking her like a spear to the chest. Her breath came in ragged heaves, but she recovered swiftly, snapping her mask back into place.

"You should have waited until we were done, at the very least. The hem wasn’t even pinned. The bust still needs taking in. And her hair—look at her hair!"

"I apologize for the inconvenience."

He didn’t sound apologetic. He sounded bored.

Aunt Cornelia’s gaze snapped to me, taking in my flushed cheeks, my swollen lips, the slight dishevelment of my hair. Her eyes narrowed.

"Well." She turned away, smoothing her skirts. "We’ll finish the fitting tomorrow. Early. Before anyone else decides to interrupt."

She swept toward the door, then paused.

"Casimir. A word."

She didn’t wait for his response. She swept into the corridor, her skirts snapping behind her, and Casimir followed without glancing back.

The door clicked shut.

I stood alone in the center of the room, veil discarded, gown half-ruined, my heart still racing.

The ghost of his hands lingered on my skin.

The taste of him lingered on my lips.

And I had no idea how I was going to survive the next couple of days.

My thumb found the ring on my finger, twisting it, twisting it, twisting it.

The ring he’d put on my finger when he asked me to run away with him. The ring that was supposed to be a promise.

Casimir. How are you going to get me out of this?

You promised. Don’t make me do this alone.