Freya‘s pov.

The moment I stepped into the ballroom, the air shifted. A ripple of silence passed through the crowd, their gazes snapping toward me, drawn like moths to a flame. Their whispers buzzed around me, mingling with the clinking of crystal glasses and the lilting melody of the orchestra. I didn’t need to glance around to know the effect I had. I could feel it. The weight of their stares, the mixture of admiration, envy, and lust in their eyes.

Dorian’s fingers ...