Page 115 of Anton

She drags us over, and we follow beside her like helpless puppets. She really wants her father to marry Savannah, and I think it’s sweet, but I hate that she’ll be disappointed.

“Hi, Daddy. Look who came to say hi to you.”

Jace stands a little straighter, his black bow tie a bit crooked, but I can’t embarrass the man when he already looks this uncomfortable.

Savannah’s face goes red. “I…uh…hi.”

“Savannah.” His gaze travels over her with practiced disinterest, but the act falls apart when his eyes settle on her mouth. “You look…nice.”

I bite back a laugh.

Oh, these two are going to end up married, aren’t they?

“You look…okay, I guess.” One brow arches.

His mouth curls as he leans in, speaking just loudly enough for me to hear. “That’s not what you said⁠—”

Her eyes expand, cutting him off, but the smug satisfaction written across his face tells me everything.

Okay. Wow. What did I miss?

They continue staring at each other until a slow song begins, and Savannah is the first to look away.

Rue pulls on Jace’s tux. “Daddy, don’t you love this song? Ask Savannah to dance.”

“Oh, I don’t think that’s a—” Savannah starts.

“Great idea, baby bear.” Jace grins in that devious way, and Savannah’s face hardens. “What do you say?” He holds out his arm.

She mutters something under her breath and slaps her hand into his. “Fine. One dance.”

Then she reaches up, and for a second, Jace’s jaw hardens as she fixes his bow tie. He barely moves, his breathing heavier now. She notices, her lips curving.

“Come on,” Jace says. “Let’s get this over with.”

“Oh, so romantic.” Savannah places her fingers on her chest, face scrunching before she rolls her eyes and leads the way.

Rue grows all giddy, and as they step away, she sighs. “Aren’t they cute?”

“They sure are.”

She glances past me, her eyes brightening as she lifts one hand and points toward the other side of the ballroom. “Look, Grandpa and Gran are coming, and I don’t know who that man is with them.”

My stomach sinks before I even face them. Because I do.

Zachary Peterson. Great.

Mama and Daddy are making their way toward us with Zachary right beside them, and when his eyes lock on me, his perfectly polished smile appears. He looks exactly like I remember: clean-cut and handsome in a very appropriate, parent-approved way, with dark hair neatly styled and soft blue eyes.

He is practically the poster boy for the kind of man my parents would want me to end up with. Polite. Wealthy. Connected. Safe.

Everything Anton Marinov is not.

“Sweetheart.” Mama leans in to kiss my cheek.

Daddy follows, his palm settling warmly on my shoulder.

“Hi, baby girl.” His smile is gentle as he gestures to the man beside him. “You remember Zachary Peterson.”