The car door opened, revealing the grand entrance of the venue. A cacophony of sounds – music, laughter, hushed whispers – spilled out into the night air. I had been to this place before, years ago, when I was hosting some type of a charity auction. The grand hall, with its ornate chandeliers and towering columns, looked much the same: the same polished marble floors, the same hushed reverence in the air. But the atmosphere was different.

Annie didn’t enter the venue with me; she was waiting in the car.

When I was about to enter the lobby, I heard Levi’s voice. He wasn’t shouting or yelling; it was simply the gesture of someone calling out for another person. "Raphael," he said with a flat voice.

I immediately turned my head towards him. He basically just whispered, but I heard him amidst the cluster of sounds. It wasn't the volume; it was the sheer… authority.

He walked towards me. "Apologies for not chaperoning you," he said, his voice smooth and even, devoid of any genuine remorse. "But I must admit I am heartbroken to think that you would enter without me."

"Oh? Husband," I emphasized the word with a touch of biting sarcasm. "You should’ve thought about that before leaving me alone. Also, what was that concoction from hell?"

"Taste is probably bitter and scent is unforgivable," he replied, his gaze unwavering, "but I brewed it myself."

"You did?" I asked, surprised. That was… unexpected.

"Indeed."

"That… Yeah. Thanks," I said, averting my eyes, feeling a strange mix of unease and… something else.

"Before we enter, I must inform you," he continued, "I spotted three nobles here. If someone talks directly to you, they are most likely neutral or positive about our marriage. If someone talks only to me, they are likely hostile. Be wary of them."

"What about you, though?" I asked, with a sliver of concern.

"Oh, thanks for the concern, but they wouldn’t even dream of harming me," he replied, his voice flat, devoid of any arrogance. "Even though they despise me in their bones."

He offered his arm, a gesture that was both polite and reassuring.

The doors swung open; the ballroom was crowded with many suits and gowns. The dizzying lights, the oppressive sounds. It was uncomfortable at first, like entering a cold lake. But if you wait a moment longer, you want to swim. The lights, though bright, began to shimmer, casting a glamorous glow on the assembled guests. The sounds, though overwhelming at first, coalesced into a rhythmic hum, a seductive undercurrent to the music.

Just like the attention I get in front of the camera, or an audience. This attention, no matter its origin, was a tasty piece of meat to me. I was born to be the center of any attention.

The initial discomfort faded, replaced by a surge of adrenaline, a familiar thrill. I straightened my shoulders, I met the gazes that lingered, offering a subtle smile. The role of the captivating outsider, the object of fascination, the gay bride who stole the Saint of Ascaria… It was thrilling to be there.

As we walked deeper into the ballroom, I saw some familiar faces: some actors, some directors, some colleagues. This is... This must be the performance of my life. Levi, with his silent authority, wasn’t stealing the show at all; he was making me shine even brighter.

We were in the corner of the room, strategically positioned to be watched from all and every direction. I was glancing around to see all the eyes sizing me up. An electrifying feeling. You feel the blood moving in your veins, a hot, pulsing current.

Levi leaned to my ear, "Trouble is coming, a noble. Be prepared for silent insults, belittlement, and please hurt them… kindly."

I leaned towards his face, murmuring lowly and asked, "What? Kindly?"

"If you do not act with grace, their mockery would grow more violent. Remind them of the crushable bugs they are, even with their so-called blue blood." he replied while his eyes fixed on the approaching figure.

The man approaching us was a sight to behold, too. A tall figure with broad shoulders, neatly and meticulously clothed. Someone who screamed authority, like Levi. But, it was shameful to admit, he wasn’t in Levi’s league at all. The man’s smile was thin, condescending. His eyes, though sharp, lacked the cold, calculating intensity of Levi’s. He was a predator, yes, but a predictable one.

I had spent weeks with Levi; there isn’t any predator scaring me with a glare. Weeks of icy glares, veiled and silent threats, constant reminders of who’s in power.

The noble extended his hand to Levi, "Pleasure to meet you, Sir Blake."

The word ‘Sir’ made Levi flinch. It was rather unexpected to watch hate and anger simmering and bubbling inside him. But he composed himself, his smile widening, becoming almost… blinding. I was trying not to be blinded by his warm smile.

"As to you, Sir Clarke," Levi replied, his voice smooth and even, but with a subtle emphasis on the title that mirrored the noble's. It was a silent game of tit-for-tat. What a petty, lion.

"And this must be…" he glanced at me, from bottom to the top. "…your bride."

Ugh, another homophobic piece of shit. Cybil used the word ‘bride’ too. It was mental gymnastics for them, basically denying in their heads that I had a dick. I resisted the urge to roll my eyes.

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"The husband, Raphael Blake," I said, emphasizing the word with a wide, genuine smile. "Pleasure to meet you, too, ‘Sir’."

The satisfaction of seeing the slight, almost imperceptible flinch was intoxicating. I’m getting good at this, I thought, a surge of confidence coursing through me. Levi would be proud.

"Your marriage was rather unexpected, Sir Blake. I heard the King was bedridden for days," he said with a predatory gleam.

Levi owned the biggest pharmaceutical company. And he'd mentioned the King’s physician in the car earlier. This… this fucker was implying something. Levi simply smiled back at him.

"The King was bedridden long before our marriage, Sir Clarke," Levi said, his voice smooth and calm. "Although that piece of information is concealed from the public, since it is a matter of great importance on the national level."

He paused, letting the weight of his words settle in the air. "So, one does wonder, how Sir Clarke… simply ‘heard’ about it."

The implication was clear. Levi wasn’t just denying the accusation; he was questioning Sir Clarke’s sources. He was suggesting that Sir Clarke was privy to information he shouldn’t have.

Sir Clarke’s face paled, the color draining from his cheeks. He’d overplayed his hand, and he knew it. He’d tried to wound Levi, but he’d only succeeded in exposing himself.

"I… I merely repeat what I’ve heard," he stammered, his voice tight, his eyes darting around the room, searching for an escape.

"Heard from whom, Sir Clarke?" Levi asked, his voice soft, almost gentle. "Perhaps a… physician? Or a member of the royal staff? Someone with… access?"

I watched, fascinated and terrified, as Levi dismantled Sir Clarke, piece by piece, with nothing but words and smiles. I was witnessing a masterclass. And the lesson was clear: never underestimate Levi Blake. Never underestimate the quiet power of a king who knows how to break his enemies with a whisper.

"Oh, apologies, Sir Clarke. It seems that I have been rude." he said, now his voice was suddenly warm.

Shit, what’s this lion doing again? Sudden shift in tone was jarring.

"This was supposed to be a celebratory occasion. I shouldn’t keep you from entertaining yourself." He placed a gentle hand on Sir Clarke’s arm, a gesture that was both polite and dismissive, a subtle way of ushering him away. "Please, enjoy the festivities. The music, the company… and try to forget our little… ‘misunderstanding’."

What a scary man. All the time he was making this man piss himself, Levi was warmly smiling. Sir Clarke could only simply nod and make his best not to break his smile. He turned and walked away.

"Well… Levi… I didn’t even have to do anything. You handled it yourself," I murmured with both awe and unease.

He didn’t wait for much of a reply. "I also didn’t wish to cut your enjoyment short, but he said something he shouldn’t have known."

He took his phone from his inner jacket pocket, the movement swift. Dialed a number, leaned to my ear, possibly to make his phone call discreet. "Holden, there is a rat in the palace," he said in this low voice. I couldn’t hear Holden’s voice on the other end, but Levi’s responses were clear.

"If it is a physician or staff, contact academia. Also, Clarke was a particular nuisance."

"Yeah, he was a piece of shit," I muttered under my breath. Homophobic fucker.

Levi’s lips curled into a faint smile. "Seems my husband agrees. So, persuade him, kindly, yes?"

‘Persuade,’ an order, hidden under politeness.

He ended the call, slipping the phone back into his pocket with the same swift, controlled movement. He turned to me with another dazzling smile.

"I was trying to make sure to steer away from the nobles, but it seems we need to engage with them. Clarke is an inferiority complex-ridden little cattle, no need to be concerned of his retaliation," he said.

Cattle, bugs… None of those nobles were human to him. But, to be honest, if my mother stole my sperm for those nobles, I wouldn’t see them as humans either. So, I replied back to him. "So, we mingle?"

"Yes, Raphael. Nobles are used to certain luxuries, such as a pair of ears always listening to their whining. They spent generations thinking that their opinions matter, so if you wish to pry information, some simple nodding, some caring question will do the trick for those attention-starved… Whatever."

Was Levi about to… cuss? The slight hesitation, the almost imperceptible tightening of his jaw… He was definitely about to cuss.

"Attention-starved motherfuckers," I said with a chuckle. A flicker of amusement flickered across his face.

"Indeed. I was going to say swines, but…"

"Come on. Don’t be so tight. Say ‘fuckers,’" I teased, a grin spreading across my face.

"As much as I enjoy your colorful language..." he said, his voice smooth, but with a hint of a smile tugging at the corner of his lips, "I spotted another trouble coming."

"Another noble?" I asked.

"Yes. But, this one is not your concern. Still, she is a force to be reckoned with. Try your best not to lose your cool."

Not my concern? I looked at the approaching woman, my eyes narrowing. Her elegant walk, a bejeweled gown that captivated and shimmered with every move. Just like Julia. A tall and slender figure, radiating an almost predatory grace.

It was a familiar type, the kind of woman who commanded attention without uttering a word. The kind who could dissect you with a single glance, a subtle smile. The kind who knew how to wield power with a delicate, yet deadly, touch.

She approached and stopped in front of Levi, glancing and assessing me with her calculating eyes. Is this a love triangle situation? If it is, she would win, for sure.

"Levi."

She didn’t use ‘Sir.’ So, she knew Levi. A sudden knot tightened in my stomach. Is this jealousy? No, don’t get ahead of yourself. It’s just that this woman is a little scarier than the homophobic fucker from before.

"Good evening, Lady Isolde, please meet my husband," Levi replied, his voice smooth and polite, gesturing towards me.

I extended my hand, offering a polite greeting, unsure of the proper etiquette. Was it a handshake? A kiss on the hand? A formal bow? I was out of my element, a fish out of water in this sea of aristocratic sharks.

"Raphael Blake," I said, my voice warm and steady, despite the nervous flutter in my stomach. "A pleasure, Lady Isolde."

She took my hand with a tight grip. I was grateful that she was wearing lace gloves, so she couldn’t feel how clammy it was.

"Don’t be so nervous," she said, her voice smooth and low, her eyes never leaving mine. "I am here to discuss certain arrangements with Levi."

"Yes, Lady Isolde," I replied, my smile strained, trying to maintain an air of composure.

When she finally released my hand, Levi intervened, his voice smooth and authoritative. "Lady Isolde, Raphael is aware of our arrangement. But, we can proceed to the terrace for discretion."

What arrangement? Is this still a love triangle situation? The question gnawed at me. I was sure they were going to leave me behind, to conduct their clandestine meeting in private. But instead, Levi clasped my arm in his, his grip firm, and gestured both Lady Isolde and me towards the terrace entrance.