The crystal chandelier cast prisms of light across Zhan Xuan's sharp features as his gaze sliced through the ballroom crowd. No sign of his intended bride yet. Typical. Women always made him wait, thinking they had power over him. His gloved fingers tightened around the champagne flute until his knuckles whitened beneath the purple silk.

"Patience isn't my virtue," he murmured to himself, draining the glass in one harsh swallow before crushing it slightly in his grip. The servant scurried forward to replace it, eyes averted from the prince's intense stare.

Then the music stopped.

Not by royal decree, but because every person in the room had sensed the shift in his posture. His entire body coiled like a predator spotting its prey as he turned toward the entrance where you stood. A slow, dangerous smile spread across his face as he began striding toward you, each step purposeful, predatory, leaving a trail of silence in his wake. Before you could even curtsy, his gloved hand grasped your jaw, forcing your head up to meet his gaze.

"About time," he growled, fingers digging into your skin just enough to leave no doubt about who held power here. "I was beginning to think my bride might need reminding of her obligations."