Bound to my Enemy Chapter 33

Elaine’s POV

"This is a dinner," he says. "Not a battlefield."

I look past him. Suits. Dresses. Smiles that don’t reach the eyes.

"Funny," I reply. "Everyone looks ard."

His mouth curves, just barely. Not a smile. Sothing close

Before he can say anything back, a clear, sharp sound cuts through the room.

Clink. Clink.

A spoon against glass.

The noise ripples outward, conversations tapering off in uneven waves until the hall settles into sothing quieter.

I don’t need to turn to know who it is.

My grandfather has always had a way of commanding a room without raising his voice.

"May I have your attention," he says. Like he doesn’t have it already.

Zane’s gaze flicks past , toward the head of the room. His jaw tightens a fraction, like he already knows what’s coming.

I step half a pace away from him, instinct more than intention, and turn.

My grandfather stands near the long table, glass raised but untouched. He looks exactly the sa as he always does. Straight-backed. Controlled.

Lucas moves closer to again. Not touching. Just close enough that I feel the heat from his arm.

Ivy appears at my other side, eyes wide but bright, like she’s bracing.

"Thank you for coming on such short notice," my grandfather continues. "I won’t take much of your ti."

A lie. Everyone here knows it.

"This evening," he says, "is about family. About unity. And about the future."

I feel Zane shift behind .

"There have been discussions," my grandfather goes on, "that concern the Whitmore family and our own. Discussions that have now reached a conclusion."

A murmur ripples through the room. Quiet and curious.

I keep my face still. Ivy’s fingers twitch near mine

"It is my pleasure," my grandfather says, "to formally announce the engagent of my granddaughter, Elaine, to Mr. Zane Whitmore."

The room reacts all at once.

Gasps that aren’t quite . Heads turning toward , then toward Zane, then back again like they’re watching a tennis match.

I don’t move.

I don’t look at Zane.

I stare straight ahead and breathe.

Lucas swears under his breath.

Ivy’s hand closes around mine this ti. Tight and Solid.

My grandfather lowers his glass. "Dinner will be served shortly."

And just like that, the announcent is over.

Sound rushes back in. Voices overlap. Soone laughs a little too loudly. Soone else claps, unsure if they’re supposed to.

I turn slowly.

Zane is already watching .

"Well," I say quietly, because if I don’t speak now I might not at all. "That was efficient."

His eyes flick to my hand still clasped in Ivy’s, then to Lucas, who looks like he’s one wrong breath away from exploding.

"You didn’t seem surprised," Zane says.

"I’ve had practice," I reply.

Lucas steps in before Zane can respond. "We need to talk."

Zane’s gaze shifts to him, sharp now. Old tension hums between them, thick enough to feel.

"I imagine we will," Zane says calmly. "Not tonight."

Lucas lets out a humorless laugh. "You don’t get to decide that."

Zane doesn’t rise to it. He looks back at instead. "You okay?"

The question catches off guard.

Lucas stiffens. Ivy’s grip tightens.

I et Zane’s eyes. "Does it matter?"

"Yes," he says. Simple and firm.

I study his face, looking for the angle, the trap. All I find is patience. Controlled. Dangerous.

"I’m fine," I say. "For now."

He nods once. "Good."

Then, quieter, ant only for , "We’ll talk after dinner."

"I didn’t agree to that," I say just as quietly.

His mouth tilts. "You didn’t object either."

I don’t answer.

Servers begin moving through the room, setting plates, pouring wine. The evening shifts gears like nothing monuntal just happened.

Lucas leans down toward . "We’re not done," he murmurs. "This isn’t over."

"I know," I say.

Ivy looks between us. "Can we sit we start a scene?"

"Too late," Lucas mutters, but he steps back.

Zane gestures toward the table. "Shall we?"

I hesitate, then nod.