Secret Heir (Dynasty #1)(70)

But something stops him in his tracks, and the illusion is shattered. My gaze falls to Layla’s hand on his forearm, holding him back and I feel the touch like a stab to my own chest.

Layla is a vision of white and gold, with her golden blonde hair, emerald green eyes and perfect face. She fits so perfectly with Raph, that it’s painful to look at. They look so right together, made for each other. She’s his queen and has been since the day he was born. I don’t know what, for a second, made me think otherwise. I can’t think about Raph’s words just then—when I’m around you I can’t think straight. Because I think, in that moment, I understand what Raph wasn’t able to say. The reason why it can never matter. Layla is what matters and she will always be the one by his side.

I’m horrified to feel the moisture pooling in my eyes and I blink it away rapidly before anyone can see.

“You look beautiful, Jazmine,” Devon’s voice startles me as I reach the bottom of the staircase. I hadn’t seen him standing there and I feel a flash of guilt as I look up at that wholesome face. He looks handsome tonight in a tux jacket and black pants and the look in those clear hazel eyes tells me that there is nowhere else he’d rather be than taking me to this dance. It’s uncomplicated, simple, nice. It’s safe and that should be enough for me.

So, I paint on a smile as I let him pin my corsage to my dress. Raph says nothing, but I can feel him watching the way that Devon’s fingertips graze the bare skin just above my chest. But I can’t care about the fire in his eyes. He’s made it clear where he stands, so now I have to do the same.



The limo ride to the St. Tristan palace helps ease my nerves. Baron and his two dates, Lance and Dani, Keller and her date rode in the same limo as Devon and me. Raph, Layla, Ivy and her date plus two other guys from the soccer team and their dates rode in the other.

By the time we reach the St. Tristan palace, I’m almost enjoying myself. Devon is the perfect date. He’s polite, laughs at my jokes, opens doors for me, doesn’t taunt me or make fun of me. I should be enjoying myself.

When we step into the decadent ballroom at the St. Tristan palace, I feel like I’ve stepped into a fairy tale. Everything is gold and the ballroom gleams like a jewel in the night. Orbs of firelight float high in the rafters of the impossibly tall ceiling, as silk and lace swirl on the vast dance floor beneath.

This is my first high school dance, but I’m pretty sure this is far and above a normal high school dance. Not least because the Dynasty heads seem to be in attendance. Magnus called a few days ago to ask if I was coming, but said that he wouldn’t be here because he’s away attending to official business, whatever that means.

I realize as I look at my opulent surroundings, that this place is Raph’s home. I mean, of course, the Evenstar palace is just as decadent, but I still don’t really consider that as mine and I sure as hell didn’t grow up there. The thought only makes me realize all the more that Raph did the right thing by cutting things off before they could even start. Things are better this way, because we both know that nothing could ever come of whatever that was between us.

I willingly take Devon’s arm, as he leads me to the dance floor and at the same time, I see Raph lead Layla in a waltz. I follow Devon’s lead, holding my palm out to meet his and my hand touches his at exactly the same moment as Raph’s hand closes around Layla’s.

I try to focus on Devon as we dance together and considering my inexperience with any kind of waltzing, he does a great job of leading us through it. But my gaze travels to Raph and Layla more than once. I’m not the only one though, because everyone is watching them. Together, they shine brighter than all the gold and jewels surrounding them. The future king of Eden and his queen. I can’t bear the sight of it, but at the same time, I can’t look away.

My stomach twists irrationally at the sight of Layla’s hand in his and his hand resting on her perfectly curved hip. Raph’s face is like stone, his eyes shuttered—the face of the heir to the throne of Eden.

After a few more beats, the pairs on the dance floor shift and I find herself passing from the safety of Devon’s arms to Raph’s.

Something like fear races down my spine and I can feel the slight tremor in my hand as he takes it in his. His touch is devastatingly gentle on the bare skin at the small of my back, and I’m all too aware of the way his fingers flex as he draws me closer. The contact of his bare skin on mine at such a sensitive spot, is almost too much to bear.

I can feel how equally affected Raph is in the way that his breath hitches as he draws closer, seeming to inhale the very scent of me, in the running stag clamor of his heartbeat against my own.

Neither of us speaks as Raph leads us through the dance, but when my eyes lock onto his, I can see the way they darken as they travel over every inch of my face, drinking in the sight of me.

Everywhere our bodies touch, I feel the fire. His powerfully muscled body presses against mine and I feel my body respond, as if it has a mind of its own. Heat pools deep in my core and I feel something primal and raw course through me.

The traitorous feelings are insane and wrong in every sense of the word. Looking at someone like this, feeling these sensations, mean something and I shouldn’t be allowing it to happen.

Raph raises a hand to my face, as if helplessly drawn. His fingertips are gentle on my cheek, barely a ghost of a touch, but I feel it in every part of me.