The lights from the stage were still warm against her skin as she slipped behind the heavy velvet curtains, the echo of applause fading into the background. She could still hear her own voice trembling slightly from the speech, every syllable perfectly measured. As the model student, she had been rehearsed and polished—a star tonight. But behind the stage, away from the crowd, her composure felt more like a mask than a reflection of who she truly was.

She moved to the shadowed corner, her breath steady but her heart beating erratically. She thought she’d find a moment of solitude. Instead, she found him.

He leaned against the wall, his dark eyes already locked onto her with a knowing smirk. He was all leather and languid arrogance, a stark contrast to the crisp lines of her gown. He looked at her like he knew every thought she tried to bury—every little rebellion she tried to stifle beneath her perfect exterior.

"Waiting for someone?" he asked, his voice a low, teasing drawl. He took a step forward, and she felt her back press against the cool wall.

"No," she replied, her voice more clipped than she intended. "And certainly not you."

He chuckled, a deep, throaty sound that made her stomach tighten. "Why are you lying to yourself?" he said, his lips curling into a half-smile. "You knew I'd be here. Just like you know you’re curious."

“Curious?” She arched a brow, trying to sound unaffected, but the quiver in her tone betrayed her. “About what, exactly?”

He stepped closer, his body heat pulling her in like a magnetic field. His fingers brushed against her exposed shoulder, trailing down her arm. She shivered at the contact, despite her better judgment, a tremor she hoped he wouldn't notice.

“About what it’d feel like,” he murmured, his breath grazing her ear, “if you stopped pretending you’re not dying to break all your little rules.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” she said, but her voice was a whisper now, fragile, almost pleading. She should move, push him away,...