Bound to my Enemy-Chapter 32.

Elaine’s POV.

Lucas waits outside the hall with me like he’s standing guard.

He looks down at my arm looped through his and exhales through his nose. "You good?"

"I think so," I say. I don’t sound convinced. "If I throw up on someone, just pretend you don’t know me."

"That’s not happening," he says. "And if it does, I’ll throw up too. Solidarity."

I snort despite myself.

The doors open.

The sound hits first. Voices layered over music, the clink of glasses. The kind of room where everyone knows exactly where they stand.

Lucas straightens automatically. I feel it in his arm.

And we step inside.

Eyes turn. Just enough to notice.

I don’t rush. Ivy told me not to. She said, Let them look. Don’t shrink.

So I don’t.

The dress fits the way she promised it would. Not desperate. Just clean lines, bare shoulders, the kind of dress that doesn’t beg for attention but still gets it. The heels make me taller than I’m used to, but Lucas adjusts his pace without saying anything.

"See?" he murmurs

We move deeper into the hall.

That’s when I feel it.

That pull. That awareness like someone has hooked a finger under my chin without touching me.

I look up.

Zane is standing near the center of the room, a glass in his hand, talking to someone I don’t recognize. He’s dressed in black. Of course he is. Jacket off, sleeves rolled once, watch catching the light when he shifts.

He stops talking mid-sentence.

His eyes are already on me.

Locked.

My throat suddenly feels dry so I swallow.

Lucas notices. His jaw tightens, just slightly. "Don’t," he mutters. "Don’t look away."

So I don’t.

Zane’s expression changes in real time. Whatever confidence he walked in with falters. Not enough that anyone else would notice. But I do.

Because his shoulders go still.

Because his grip tightens around the glass.

Because his mouth parts like he forgot what he was about to say.

We keep walking.

Zane’s POV

I knew she’d come.

That wasn’t the question.

The question was whether she’d look like this.

She walks in on Lucas’s arm, and the room rearranges itself around her without realizing it. Conversations dip. A few people glance, then glance again. Not because she’s trying too hard. Because she isn’t.

She looks... striklingy beautiful, so fucking beautiful and hot at the same time.

Which pisses me off.

And impresses me.

The dress she’s wearing isn’t what I sent.

I know that immediately.

Her hair is loose, falling over one shoulder like she didn’t fight with it for hours even though I know she did. Her posture is careful but not small. Like she’s bracing for impact but refusing to duck.

Lucas is playing escort like he owns the ground under her feet.

I watch his hand rest just a little too firmly over hers.

I almost smile.

Almost.

The person talking to me clears his throat. "Zane?"

I don’t look away from her. "Give me a second."

Elaine meets my eyes.

Doesn’t flinch.

That’s new.

She looks... calm. Or at least pretending well. There’s color in her face. A sharpness in her gaze I didn’t expect.

That shouldn’t bother me.

It does.

When they reach the center of the room, Lucas leans down and says something to her. She nods once, then disengages her arm from his.

My attention sharpens.

Lucas steps aside but doesn’t leave. He stays close. Too close.

She walks toward me

Every step feels deliberate

When she stops in front of me, the noise of the room dulls. Just fades into something distant.

"Hi," she says.

Just that.

I study her face. Up close, she smells like something clean and familiar. Not perfume-heavy.

Good.

"You didn’t wear the dress," I say.

Her mouth twitches. "No I didn’t ."

A pause.

Then, "I figured this one fit the occasion better."

I glance over her shoulder briefly, then back to her. "You mean it fits you better."

She lifts her chin slightly. "Exactly."

I exhale through my nose. "You look... different."

She crosses her arms lightly, not defensive. Thoughtful. "Is that a complaint?"

"No," I say honestly. "It’s an adjustment."

She holds my gaze. "You’ll survive."

I almost laugh.

Lucas shifts behind her. I feel it without looking.

"This is a dinner," I say. "Not a battlefield."

She tilts her head. "Funny. Everyone looks armed."