Chapter 744:
Marcus stepped forward with easy charm, bowing as he offered his hand to Rylie. “Princess of the night, will you give me the honor of the first dance?”
She placed her hand in his with a smile. “The honor’s mine, Marcus.”
The music swelled, and as she moved across the floor, others joined — young heirs and heiresses gliding into the rhythm, filling the hall with grace and joy.
Each time the melody shifted, another partner stepped in, the Owen brothers taking turns until Felix, with one last spin, let her hand slip away. He guided her back toward Brad.
“Go on,” Felix said with an easy grin. “Tonight, besides us, he’s the only one who gets to dance with you.”
At Felix’s words, Brad’s eyes softened with gratitude before he reached for Rylie’s hand, his other palm resting lightly at her waist.
The music swelled, and he led her toward the middle of the floor. Dancing with her brothers had always felt easy and playful, but in Brad’s hold, there was a quiet authority wrapped in gentleness.
His movements were measured, never rushed. The straightness of his posture carried the mark of his military training, giving her a sense of steadiness that words could never match.
Because of their height difference, Rylie had to tilt her head slightly to meet his gaze. She caught the faint stumbles in his steps now and then, though he covered them seamlessly, spinning her so the crowd never noticed.
Her dress fanned out as she turned, and the bracelet on her wrist — her “Heart of the Ocean” — glimmered blue with each sweep of the light.
When the music softened, she leaned closer to him. “You practiced, didn’t you?”
He gave a small laugh. “Practiced what?”
“Dancing,” said Rylie, her eyes steady on his. “This piece isn’t familiar to you. You must have learned it for tonight.”
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His voice dropped, almost shy. “I did. I wanted to be the one to ask you, so no one else could take the chance.”
Her gaze swept the room before she answered, “Besides my brothers, there’s no one here who could ever outshine you.”
He chuckled quietly, letting her biased words pass without correction. “You’re right,” he said.
As the night drew to its end and guests trickled away, a young man finally appeared, carrying a box in his hands. His polished look and artistic air set him apart immediately.
He stepped forward and offered the gift. “I’m Raymond Bruce. Dean Dennis was my mentor in school. I stayed an extra day to deliver his congratulations. He also hopes you’ll come to Ostium soon. He’s eager to continue your conversations about art.”
Rylie accepted the gift, lifting the lid to reveal a finely crafted pocket watch.
“The Dean made this himself,” Raymond explained with a pleasant smile. “He collects these as a hobby. And for what it’s worth, I designed the dress you’re wearing. The cut is exact, the lines seamless. It suits you perfectly.”
Rylie greeted him with a warm smile, trading a few light words before her gaze sharpened. She noticed the dark smudges beneath his eyes, the flush across his skin, and the sheen of sweat dampening his forehead.
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