Page 49 of Rejected By My Shifter Billionaire

“This is insane,” I muttered, checking my reflection one more time in the car window.

The dress fit perfectly, of course. Nicolo had somehow managed to select something that made me look elegant and sophisticated instead of like I was playing dress-up in someone else’s clothes.

My hair was pinned up in a style that felt more formal than anything I’d ever attempted, and the subtle makeup I’d applied made my eyes look larger and more mysterious.

I looked like someone who belonged at a supernatural high society event.

Which was terrifying.

“You’ll do fine,” the other woman said kindly. “Just remember: everyone here is wearing a mask. No one knows who you are unless you tell them.”

She made such an excellent point...I decided to focus my thoughts entirely on her words as I made my way to the ballroom.

No one knows you. You’re all wearing masks. It’s going to be okay.

Right?

Lucent Summit was a miracle of fae magic and botanical artistry.

The walls were alive with flowering vines that responded to the music, blooming and closing in rhythm with the orchestra.

The ceiling was a canopy of intertwined branches that opened to reveal the star-filled sky above, and the floor was made of polished stone that seemed to have tiny flowers growing between the tiles.

Everywhere I looked, there were flowers I’d never seen before. Solar blossoms that pulsed with warm, golden light. Ice roses that sparkled like diamonds and felt cool to the touch. Passion vines that glowed deep red and seemed to sway toward couples as they passed.

The guests were even more spectacular than the setting.

I caught glimpses of pointed ears and unusual eye colors, of clothing that seemed to be made from elements rather than fabric, of jewelry that moved and changed as I watched.

It felt like I’d stepped into some kind of fantasy movie premiere where everyone was supernaturally gorgeous and I was the only regular human wondering how I’d even gotten past security.

And somewhere in this crowd of supernatural nobility and magical flora was my stepbrother, ready to put me through another “compatibility test.”

I was so focused on scanning the crowd for a familiar set of broad shoulders that I almost missed the man approaching me.

“May I have this dance?”

I turned to find a tall stranger in an elegant black mask, his hand extended in invitation. He was handsome in a classical way, with dark hair and kind eyes, and there was nothing threatening about his presence.

Which meant he definitely wasn’t Nicolo.

“I’m actually waiting for someone,” I said politely.

“Then perhaps you’d allow me to keep you company while you wait?”

Before I could respond, a warm hand settled on my lower back.

“She’s with me.”

Nicolo.

His presence alone was a dead giveaway, but with him speaking just those three words, I imagined what the other man was feeling was likely the same thing that vampires felt on That Day, when Domenico Moretti, with his single unifying act of courage, led the charge for all preter races to defeat the blood-drinking minions of Hell.

“My apologies.” The other man didn’t even look at me as he backed away like his life depended on it, and honestly, with how Nicolo was presently bristling?

It probably did. Even through the scent dampeners, there was no mistaking the presence of an alpha who could bring lesser predators to their knees with nothing more than a look.

Nicolo’s hand slid from my back to my waist, pulling me closer to his side with casual possessiveness.

Our gazes met, and it was my turn to feel like I was about to die...of, I don’t know. A mixture of giddiness, desire, and infatuation perhaps?

I cleared my throat. “This place is beautiful.”

“Not as beautiful as you.”

Don’t react, don’t react, don’t—

As Nicolo guided me to the dance floor, he glanced down at me, his gaze gleaming in amusement. “Did I embarrass you?”

Absolutely!

But since I would rather die than admit to that—

“So, um...”

It was time to change the subject, and I desperately looked around in search for something— anything!— else to talk about.

“Any dos and don’ts I should know about? Any, um, tips for first-timers like me?”

“The flowering ceremony is always a favorite,” Nicolo murmured. “The passion vines respond to emotional resonance. The stronger the connection between partners, the more vibrantly they bloom.”

“That sounds like a very public compatibility test.”

“It is.”

The orchestra began a new song, something slow and haunting that seemed to make the flowers around us sway in response. Nicolo led me onto the dance floor with the kind of confidence that suggested he’d been doing this his entire life.

Which he probably had.

His hand was warm and sure at my waist, his other hand holding mine with just enough pressure to guide me through the steps. He was an excellent dancer, moving with the same fluid grace he brought to everything else, and I found myself relaxing into the rhythm despite my nerves.

“You’re tense,” he observed.

“I wonder why.”

“Relax, Maryah. This is supposed to be enjoyable.”

“Easy for you to say. You’re not the one wearing”

I stopped, realizing I was about to discuss very private equipment in the middle of a crowded ballroom.

His lips curved in a small smile. “Wearing what?”

“You know what.”

“I’m afraid I don’t.” But there was something wicked in his eyes that suggested he knew exactly what I was talking about. “Why don’t you tell me?”

“I hate you.”

“No, you don’t.”

The confidence in his voice made me want to step on his feet. Hard. With the pointy heels that matched this ridiculously perfect dress. Instead, I let him guide me through another turn, trying to ignore the way the passion vines along the walls seemed to be glowing brighter as we passed.

“They’re beautiful,” I said, nodding toward the flowering walls.

“They are. But they’re also very revealing.” His hand tightened slightly at my waist. “The deeper the red, the stronger the attraction between partners.”

I glanced around and noticed that most of the vines were a pleasant pink or light coral color. Pretty, but not particularly intense.

The section near us was definitely approaching red.

“Interesting,” I managed.

“Isn’t it?”

We danced in silence for several minutes, and I found myself getting lost in the music and the magical atmosphere. The scent dampeners made everything feel dreamlike, as if I was floating through a fantasy where nothing was quite real.

Which made it all the more shocking when the device Nicolo had insisted I wear suddenly came to life.

The vibration was gentle, barely noticeable, but it made me gasp and stumble slightly in his arms.

“Careful,” he murmured, steadying me with both hands.

“What” I started, then stopped as the sensation increased slightly.

“Is something wrong?” he asked with perfectly innocent concern.

I stared up at him, realizing with growing horror that he was controlling the device. Somehow, he had a way to activate it remotely, and he was testing my reactions in the middle of a crowded ballroom.

“You wouldn’t,” I breathed.

“Wouldn’t what?”

The vibration pulsed once, twice, then settled into a steady rhythm that made my knees weak.

“This is public indecency,” I hissed, trying to keep my expression neutral while my body started responding to the stimulation.

“This is data collection,” he corrected calmly. “How are your stress levels? Heart rate? Overall comfort with the testing environment?”

“I’m going to kill you.”

“That’s concerning. Perhaps we should try a different setting.”

The vibration increased, and I had to bite my lip to keep from making a sound.

“Better?” he asked.

“Worse,” I gasped. “Much worse.”

“Interesting. And how are you feeling emotionally? Any particular thoughts or reactions I should note?”

I wanted to tell him exactly what I thought of his scientific method, but a new song began and another couple bumped into us, reminding me that we were surrounded by people.

People who might notice if I started acting strangely.

People who might wonder why the passion vines around us were now glowing deep crimson.

“The flowers,” I whispered, glancing at the walls in panic.

“What about them?”

“They’re red. Really red.”

“Excellent data.” His purring tone made me want to kiss and kill him at the same time.

“It’s not excellent when everyone can see—”

“That we’re attracted to each other?” Nicolo asked.

Yes! I mean, no!

The device pulsed again, and I stumbled into his chest, my hands fisting in his jacket as I tried to stay upright.

“I can’t do this,” I breathed.

“Yes, you can.”

“People will notice—”

“No one is paying attention to us.”

But even as he said it, I noticed another man approaching from across the dance floor. Tall, confident, wearing a mask that didn’t quite hide his aristocratic features.

“May I cut in?” he asked politely.

Nicolo’s arm tightened around my waist. “We’re not finished.”

“Surely the lady can speak for herself?”

The device chose that moment to pulse harder, and I gasped audibly.

Both men turned to look at me with concern.

“Are you all right?” the stranger asked.

“She’s fine,” Nicolo said firmly. “Just a little overwhelmed by the atmosphere.”

“Perhaps some fresh air?” the man suggested. “The gardens are lovely this time of night.”

“That’s very kind,” I managed, trying to keep my voice steady as the vibration continued, “but I’m quite happy here.”

The lie was obvious to anyone with eyes. I was flushed, breathing hard, and clearly struggling to maintain my composure. But the scent dampeners meant neither man could detect the real reason for my distress.

“Are you certain?” the stranger pressed. “You seem—”

“She seems perfectly fine to me,” Nicolo interrupted, his voice carrying just enough edge to make it clear the conversation was over.

The man backed away with another polite bow, but I could feel his eyes on us as Nicolo guided me to a quieter corner of the dance floor.

“That was close,” I choked out.

“That was perfect,” he corrected. “Your responses are exactly what the protocol requires.”

“My responses are going to get us thrown out of here!”

“Not if you learn to control them.”

The device pulsed again, stronger this time, and my vision went white around the edges.

“I can’t,” I gasped, my nails digging into his shoulders. “Nicolo, please—”

“You can,” he said firmly. “Look at me.”

I forced my eyes to focus on his face, on the sharp line of his jaw beneath the mask, on the way his green eyes seemed to see straight through me.

“Breathe,” he commanded softly.

I tried, but the sensation was building toward something inevitable, something that would destroy any pretense of public decorum.

“I’m going to—” I started, but couldn’t finish the sentence.

“I know.” His mouth was at my ear now, his voice barely audible over the music. “Let it happen.”

I nearly tripped over my own feet. “H-Here?”

“Yes.”

It was just one word.

But it was enough.

Just one word, combined with the relentless vibration, was all it took to push me over the edge, and I came apart in his arms, biting down on his shoulder to muffle the cry that wanted to escape.

My body shook with the force of it, pleasure crashing over me in waves while he held me steady and whispered things I couldn’t quite hear over the roaring in my ears.

When it was over, I slumped against him, boneless and spent.

“Good girl,” he murmured, his hand stroking my back. “That was perfect.”

I lifted my head to look around the ballroom, expecting to find everyone staring at us in shock and disgust.

Instead, I found that life had continued exactly as before. Couples danced, people chatted, the orchestra played on. No one seemed to have noticed anything unusual.

Except for the passion vines on the walls around us, which were now glowing so brightly they looked like they were on fire.

“Everyone can see the flowers,” I whispered dazedly.

“Everyone can see that we have incredible chemistry,” he corrected. “Which is exactly what a 98.7% compatibility rating should look like.”

I stared up at him, my mind struggling to process what had just happened. I’d had an orgasm in the middle of a crowded ballroom, and somehow no one had noticed except the magical plants.

The song ended, and couples around us began to separate and move toward the refreshment tables. Nicolo kept one arm around my waist, supporting me as my legs remembered how to function.

“How do you feel?”

I stared up at him, my mind struggling to process what had just happened. I’d had an orgasm in the middle of a crowded ballroom, and somehow the most terrifying part wasn’t the public nature of it.

It was the way it felt.

Like coming home.

Like belonging to someone.

Like everything I’d been fighting against for seven years was exactly what I’d been fighting for.

“I need some air,” I managed.

“Of course.” He stepped back, his expression unreadable behind the mask. “The car is waiting whenever you’re ready.”

I nodded, not trusting my voice, and walked toward the gardens on unsteady legs.

The night air was cool against my flushed skin, and I found a quiet corner behind a wall of night-blooming jasmine where I could finally breathe.

And think.

And face the truth I’d been running from since I was eighteen years old.

I was in love with Nicolo Celestini.

My stepbrother.

My tormentor.

My...whatever this was.

Not just attracted to him. Not just physically responsive to his touch.

In love.

Completely, hopelessly, devastatingly in love with my stepbrother.

The man who’d just made me fall apart in public and then walked away like it meant nothing.

The worst part? The worst, stupid, awful part?

As my body had trembled through a release I hadn’t chosen, that I hadn’t wanted to give him, that I had given him anyway, I’d known.

I was in love with this jerk.

And there wasn’t a darn thing I could do about it.