The moonlight pooled across the palace corridors like spilled milk, cool and unbothered by the passions of mortals walking its halls. Lady Gina's footsteps were soft, but sure, as she made her way down the corridor toward the chambers she had been assigned since her engagement. Her fingers lightly brushed the gilded walls, the silence wrapping around her like a shawl. Dinner had passed, conversation was light, but her mind wasn't. Not after him.
Duke Enzo.
Rnzo had barely spoken a word at dinner, his gaze unreadable yet suffocating. Ever since their steamy, charged moment during the welcoming banquet, the air between them had become unbearable. Their relationship—once sharp, clever, teasing—had grown thick with something unsaid. Gina had thought him a mystery before, but now she felt like she was walking on embers, and every glance he gave her added fuel.
As she rounded the final corridor, Gina stopped abruptly.
He was there.
Duke Rnzo leaned against the wall beside her door like a carved statue of sin, draped in shadows and moonlight. His cravat undone, coat unbuttoned, revealing just enough of his throat to make her skin heat. She blinked.
"You're here," she said, her voice more breath than sound.
Rnzo didn't reply immediately. He straightened, eyes flickering toward the maid following her. With a low command, his voice velvet and unyielding, he said, "Leave us."
The maid obeyed at once, bowing out of sight.
Gina stood still as he stepped forward, so close she had to tilt her chin up slightly to meet his gaze. The air thickened. Her throat worked silently.
"You haven't spoken to me properly in three days," he murmured. His voice held no accusation, only something darker. Possessive. Hungry.
She swallowed, looking away. "We've both been busy."
Rnzo's hand reached up, slowly, his fingers brushing the tendrils of hair that had slipped from her braid. Her skin prickled. Instead of speaking, he leaned in and kissed her jaw. Just below the ear.
"You turned away," he whispered against her skin. "I should be offended."
"I didn't," she breathed, heart pounding. "I just—I'm tired."
Another kiss. This one, lower, just at the slope of her neck.
"Let's go out."
She blinked. "It's late."
"Too late to start over. Just late enough to disappear."
She stepped back slightly, trying to breathe.
"Lord Tando and Lady Kiara invited us to a small festival in town," he said, brushing invisible dust off her sleeve. "It would be poor form to attend alone, darling."
The way he said it—darling—it struck her like a physical blow. She stilled. Rnzo had never called her that before. The word, though harmless in theory, curled around her like silk. Too soft. Too intimate.
And yet she nodded.
Rnzo smiled. Slowly. Like a man who had won a war no one else knew was happening.
"Let me get my cloak first," she said, reaching for the door behind her.
But he stepped in front of it, lifting a dark, wool cloak into her line of vision. He had been holding it the entire time.
Her eyes widened.
He knew.
He knew she would agree. Or perhaps he had decided she would.
She reached out for it, but he didn't hand it over. Instead, he stepped behind her, his chest flush against her back, and gently, excruciatingly slowly, draped the cloak over her shoulders. His fingers brushed the curve of her collarbone as he fastened the clasp. Gina trembled.
His lips grazed her ear. "We can argue later. Tonight, I just want to look at you."
She inhaled sharply. Her pulse throbbed in places she didn't want to acknowledge.
He led her by the hand to the staircase, down through corridors dimly lit with lanterns, out to the courtyard where a carriage waited. Two horses stood still, as if they, too, were holding their breath.
The driver opened the door.
Rnzo helped her inside, climbing in after. The space was tight, the kind that forced closeness. Intimate. Dangerous.
The carriage jolted to life.
She sat rigidly, trying to keep her eyes focused on anything but him. The window. Her hands. The sky.
He studied her like a predator at rest.
"You didn't say no," he said.
"To what?"
"To this. To me."
Gina turned slowly, her eyes defiant despite the blush on her cheeks. "You're very confident for someone who might be rejected any second."
Rnzo laughed softly. Not arrogant. Just amused. "You're not going to reject me tonight."
She stiffened. "You don't know that."
He leaned forward, slow as a pouring storm. "Gina."
Her name on his lips. It didn't sound like a name anymore. It sounded like a promise.
"Yes?" she whispered.
"Do you remember that night at the banquet?" he asked.
She did. Every moment. Every breath. Every time he leaned in too close or looked at her like she was his.
"You kissed me like you wanted to tear down kingdoms," he said. "And then ran like I'd burned you."
"You did burn me," she whispered.
His smile was wolfish. "Then why did you come with me tonight?"
She didn't answer.
Rnzo's hand slid across the velvet seat until it found hers. He held it, then turned her palm upward and traced the lines there with his fingertip.
"You keep waiting for me to ask permission," he said. "But I'm not a poet, Gina. I'm not going to write you sonnets and beg you to feel. I'm just going to keep standing at your door until you let me in."
She closed her eyes.
"That sounds like stalking."
"Then call the guards."
His words were low. Dangerous. Sweet.
The carriage began to slow. Through the window, soft lights glowed from the edge of town. Lanterns strung above a narrow path, laughter echoing in the air. The festival was modest, but lively.
Rnzo stepped out first, holding his hand for her. She took it. Of course she took it.
As they walked down the main lane, he didn't let go of her hand. Not once. Not even when vendors began whispering, or when Kiara and Tando waved them over from a tea stall near the corner.
For tonight, Gina let the heat between them melt the distance.
But she knew this dance was only just beginning.
And Rnzo? He looked like a man who had every intention of setting her world ablaze.
The town was alive, glowing under the shimmer of festival lanterns like fireflies suspended midair. Music spilled into the streets — thick, exotic, like a forbidden perfume. It mingled with the scent of roasted meats, sweet fermented fruits, and something faintly musky… temptation, perhaps.
As the carriage came to a stop, Gina leaned forward, her face brushing too close to Rnzo's shoulder. He did not move. Not when her breath touched his collarbone. Not when her gloved fingers brushed the leather of the seat as she steadied herself.
When she finally stepped out, the cool night air met her face and she was met immediately by the subtle warmth of Rnzo's hand at the small of her back.
"You're quiet," he murmured close to her ear, "Tell me, are you nervous to be out with me… or excited?"
She shot him a side glance, lips parted. "I'm wondering if this is some elaborate ploy to wear down my resolve."
He smirked. "If it were, would it be working?"
Gina ignored the question.
The festival space was tucked behind rows of vendor stalls and lamp-lit shops. Hidden, intimate. Music vibrated through the wooden benches. She spotted Tando before she saw Kiara — her laughter unmistakable. Tando leaned close to whisper something, causing Kiara to giggle behind her fan.
Kiara's eyes widened as she spotted Gina and waved excitedly. Gina waved back, smiling, though her chest still fluttered like it had wings of its own.
They were seated facing the other couple — Tando and Kiara across, Gina and Rnzo side by side. It was close enough to feel the warmth of his thigh through layers of fabric, yet far enough to feel the silence swell.
Moments later, a cheerful man approached, placing bottles of deep red wine on the low table before them. He gave a theatrical bow before setting down plates of glazed fruits and cinnamon-sugar coated nuts.
Rnzo turned toward Gina, swirling the wine in the glass with lazy grace before offering it to her.
"It's aged," he said. "Smooth, not sharp. You'll like it."
She eyed the glass suspiciously. "I've never had anything stronger than honey water. And I don't intend to start now."
He raised an eyebrow, clearly amused. "A rule follower."
"I prefer to call it self-preservation," she said, folding her arms.
He chuckled, leaning back. "You think one sip will ruin you?"
She turned slightly, meeting his gaze. "With you, Duke, it's never just one sip. Is it?"
That made him laugh — a real one — husky and low.
"You have a sharp tongue," he said, "for someone trying to preserve her virtue."
Before Gina could respond, the beat of drums thickened, pulsing through the air like a second heartbeat.
The dancers arrived.
They glided to the stage like honey dripping from a spoon — slow, deliberate. Their silk wraps clung loosely, revealing bare midriffs, smooth thighs, wrists lined with golden bangles. Their movements were hypnotic — seductive without being vulgar, fluid and bold. The crowd grew quieter, drawn in like moths to flame.
Gina blinked, stunned by the rawness of it. She had seen noble dances, graceful movements, orchestrated elegance. But this was something different. This was... bold. Honest. Alive.
She turned, instinctively, wondering if Rnzo was as fixated on the dancers as everyone else.
But he wasn't.
He was watching her.
His elbow rested on the arm of the bench, hand over his mouth as if politely concealing a laugh. His eyes, however, betrayed the smirk curling his lips.
"Is the dance too much for you, Lady Gina?" he asked smoothly, voice low.
"No," she said defensively, cheeks warming. "It's just… different."
"You keep looking away," he teased.
"I was just—" she cut herself off. He didn't need to know she had turned to see if he was watching someone else.
"I wasn't looking away," she lied.
His eyes gleamed. "You were hoping I was watching them."
She narrowed her eyes. "Isn't that the point of dancers?"
He leaned in, dropping his voice to a whisper meant for her alone. "Maybe. But why would I watch anyone else when you're sitting here looking like that?"
Gina's mouth parted.
She felt warm everywhere. From her ears to the tips of her toes. The music was suddenly muted, the dancers a blur. All she could feel was the weight of Rnzo's words.
"You're toying with me," she managed.
"You flatter me," he said, brushing his fingers lazily along the rim of his glass. "I'm only being honest."
Gina rolled her eyes and reached for a candied nut to break the moment. But he stopped her hand halfway, catching her fingers gently.
She froze.
"Try this one instead," he said, placing a dark fruit between her fingers.
Her lips were dry as she placed it in her mouth, careful not to let her hand shake.
"Sweet?" he asked.
"Too sweet," she said, voice soft.
He laughed again, eyes flicking to her mouth. "No such thing."
There was a pause between them. Too long. Too loud.
The dancers were finishing now. The final spin sent bracelets chiming like wind bells. The crowd cheered, but Gina barely noticed.
She felt full — from the heat, from the wine-scented air, from Rnzo's proximity.
Then suddenly, Kiara called out across the table, "Are we enjoying the night, Gina?"
Gina smiled quickly, grateful for the break in silence. "It's… more than I expected."
Tando raised his glass. "To surprises then!"
They all toasted. Gina pretended to sip. Rnzo downed his with no hesitation.
Later, when more platters came and the fire was lit in the center pit, Kiara leaned into Tando's side. He curled an arm around her shoulder, tender and relaxed.
Gina saw the look, the intimacy, the ease of it.
She wondered what it would feel like to let her body lean like that. Would she be able to breathe?
Would Rnzo let her come close only to make her burn?
He turned slightly, sensing her eyes.
"You're staring," he whispered.
"You're imagining things," she said, just as quiet.
"You want to ask something."
"I don't."
"You're lying."
She looked at him. "Why do you keep doing this?"
"Doing what?"
"Getting into my head."
He smirked. "Because you let me."
She turned back to the fire, swallowing down a hundred words she couldn't say. Rnzo didn't press further.
But he didn't move away either.
And when the flames flickered higher and the musicians played slower songs — couples started moving toward the open space to dance — Rnzo leaned just close enough to brush her hair with his breath.
"Will you dance with me, Lady Gina?" he asked, softly, confidently.
She turned, searching his eyes.
"You know how to dance?" she teased.
He grinned. "Try me."
The energy of the festival was infectious. Music pulsed through the air as the four of them danced under the lantern-lit sky. Laughing, spinning, and switching partners, it was a rare night of freedom.
Eventually, they returned to their table for drinks, cheeks flushed and hearts light.
Kiara was clearly tipsy now, giggling against Tando's shoulder. He sipped water instead, and after glancing at her swaying a little too much, leaned toward Rnzo.
"We're heading back to the palace," he said quietly, his eyes protective. "You two enjoy the rest of the evening."
Gina was still sipping from her goblet as they left. Rnzo turned and arched an eyebrow.
"Slow down, darling—that's a bit much," he said, amused.
Gina blinked, looking adorably guilty as she set her cup down and pouted at him.
He chuckled at her expression. Tipsy Gina, it seemed, was softer—almost doll-like, and just as irresistible.
As they made their way toward the carriages, Gina suddenly halted.
"Will we come here again tomorrow, darling?" she asked.
Rnzo froze. "'Darling'?" He tilted his head, smirking. "Are you seducing me, love?"
To his surprise, she nodded with a smile that was both bold and shy.
"Well, well…" He closed the gap between them in two strides, his body now inches from hers as he gently pinned her against the stone wall beside the carriage. "Say it again."
Gina's voice was breathless but playful. "You do it to me all the time—it's only fair I return the favor."
He laughed, low and warm. "You're such a light drunk, love. But if you're seducing me… that's a win for me."
With that, he helped her into the carriage, and the moment the door closed, it began to roll.
Inside, the tension snapped like a taut string. Rnzo cupped her face and kissed her—slow at first, but deep and consuming. He pulled her to sit on his lap, her arms wrapping tightly around his neck, her grip on his cloak firm as if the world might fall apart without him.
His hands slid along her back, playful and teasing. When her soft moan escaped, he instinctively tugged harder at her dress, unaware he had torn the back.
But neither noticed.
He gently laid her across the carriage seat and hovered over her, his lips tracing her jaw, down to her neck. Gina's breath came in shaky waves, her fingers tangled in his hair, her soft gasps barely audible—but enough to drive him wild.
When he returned to her lips, the kiss was fiercer—urgent. She bit his lip playfully, but he didn't flinch. His hand gripped the side of the carriage—and with a loud crack, it splintered under the pressure of his hold.
The carriage jolted to a stop.
Gina's eyes widened as she looked at the damage. "How… did you do that?"
Rnzo was still catching his breath, his chest rising and falling. He stared at her, voice hoarse. "I want to have you now."
But Gina pointed at the shattered wood. "That could be me next," she said with a teasing scowl.
He blinked, then laughed—genuinely, wholeheartedly.
A knock interrupted their moment.
"Your Grace," came the guard's voice. "Shall we proceed?"
Rnzo glanced at the splintered side of the carriage, then called out, "Is there an inn nearby?"
"Yes, Your Grace."
"Good. Get us a room—we'll stay here tonight."
He turned back to Gina, helping her upright and wrapping her cloak around her shoulders. Once outside, they followed the guard through the quiet village path to the warm lights of the inn.
The night wasn't over—but now it carried the promise of something deeper.
The inn room was dimly lit, the only light flickering from the low-burning hearth in the corner. As the door clicked shut behind them, silence settled in—thick and heavy, broken only by the sound of Gina's unsteady breath and Rnzo's boots against the wooden floor.
She had just turned to speak—perhaps to thank him for being considerate, perhaps to say nothing at all—when he crossed the room in one stride and caught her lips in a kiss that stole every word from her throat.
Her gasp melted into the kiss as she instinctively took a step back—then another—her hand brushing the edge of the nightstand as he walked her back, mouth never parting from hers.
"Rnzo…" she whispered once, unsure whether it was a plea or a protest.
He didn't answer—only deepened the kiss, his hand at the side of her face, cradling her like something precious he feared might vanish.
Her knees met the edge of the bed. The next step took her down with a soft thud onto the mattress, and he followed, bracing himself above her. Their lips found each other again, more urgent now—hungry, desperate, yet trembling with restraint.
He kissed her like a man who had waited a thousand lifetimes. And she kissed him back like a woman afraid the night would be their only one.
When he finally pulled away, his breath was ragged, his chest heaving above hers. The firelight caught the sharp line of his jaw and the flicker in his eyes—stormy, dark, undone.
His hand hovered over her bodice, fingers trembling slightly. His voice, when it came, was hoarse and deep. "Gina…" he murmured, as if her name alone could ground him.
Her eyes fluttered closed beneath him, lips parted as though she were about to speak—but no sound came.
He stilled.
"Gina?" he whispered again, softer now.
There was no response.
Her chest rose and fell in slow, even waves.
He sighed—long, drawn, and full of something heavier than disappointment.
"You're asleep," he murmured with a broken sort of smile. "Of course you are."
He closed his eyes, trying to slow the pulse pounding in his ears. Then, without another word, he slid off the bed, crossing the room to the small washbasin.
He poured water into a bowl, dipping a cloth into it. Cold. It would help. For more than one reason.
He cleaned himself quickly, then returned to the bed. She hadn't moved.
Careful not to wake her, he sat beside her and gently lifted the cloth, dabbing at her cheeks, her neck, her shoulders—gentle, reverent strokes. The wine had left her flushed, her breath warm against his fingers.
Her corset was still tight—too tight.
Rnzo hesitated.
Then, slowly, he reached for the ties, loosening them bit by bit. Her body exhaled visibly, her breathing deepening once the pressure eased. The sound of her breath—soft, trusting, unguarded—cut into him more than any temptation ever could.
Once done, he tossed the cloth aside and pulled the blanket up over her shoulders. She murmured something inaudible and shifted closer.
He stood there a long moment, watching her sleep.
Then, wordlessly, he climbed into bed beside her. His arm slid under her gently, pulling her into him, her back to his chest. She fit perfectly there—like she always had.
His lips brushed the crown of her head.
"You nearly killed me tonight," he whispered into her hair. "But I'd die for this feeling. Just like this… with you."
Gina shifted slightly in her sleep, curling further into his warmth. He let his fingers trail down her arm before tucking them beneath her hand.
And there, in the quiet heat of the inn room, with the night wrapped tightly around them, Rnzo fell asleep—his lips still brushing her skin, his heart finally at rest.