Page 91 of Ravaged By a Devil

I smooth down the front of my gown—a stunning, sapphire-blue dress that Cain had delivered directly to the estate earlier this afternoon. It fits like a second skin, elegant and subtle, clinging to every curve without being overly loud.

The diamond tennis bracelet he forced onto my wrist catches the chandelier light, winking back at me like a silent reminder of who I belong to tonight.

As we step through the double doors of the ballroom, I feel the shift in the room immediately. Eyes drift toward us from every corner. The whispers start almost instantly, silent questions floating through the air as people try to identify the woman standing beside Cain Kavanagh.

In a room full of smooth-talking wolves, Cain stands out like a predator in a tailored suit. He looks devastatingly handsome, his broad shoulders filling out his tuxedo, his dark hair slicked back. But despite the formal setting, the dangerous, lethal aura around him hasn't faded one bit.

He doesn't let go of my hand for a single second.

His broad, calloused fingers remain tightly laced with mine, his thumb absently tracing small circles over the back of my hand as he begins navigating the crowd, exchanging brief, authoritative greetings with business partners and city officials.

Every time someone looks at me, Cain subtly shifts his body, keeping me anchored flush against his side—making it painfully, beautifully clear to everyone in the room that I came with him.

Cain leans down, his lips brushing my ear, his breath warm and steady against the cool evening air. "You doing okay, doll?"

I smile up at him, wrapping my fingers a little tighter around his. "I'm great. Better than great, actually."

His gaze softens, a rare, breathtaking warmth breaking through his usual stoic mask. "You’re the most beautiful woman in this room tonight, Alexis. I swear it."

A quiet giggle escapes my chest, and I lean into his arm. "Thank you, Cain."

Before he can answer, a tall, silver-haired man in a bespoke charcoal tuxedo cuts through the crowd, stepping directly into our path.

My breath hitches slightly as I recognize him instantly—Victor Sutterfield. He’s a billionaire tech mogul whose face is on every major financial news channel and magazine cover in the country.

"Cain," Sutterfield says, his voice carrying the calm, smooth authority of a man used to owning every room he steps into. He extends a hand, which Cain shakes with a firm grip. "It’s been a while. I see the Kavanagh expansion into commercial real estate is moving along ahead of schedule."

"Sutterfield," Cain rumbles politely, though his posture remains sharp and watchful. Without dropping my hand for a fraction of a second, he turns slightly, pulling me seamlessly into his space. "This is Alexis."

Just like he’s done with every judge, politician, and executive we’ve crossed paths with tonight, Cain introduces me without a hint of hesitation or stutter—presenting me not as an afterthought, but as an undeniable presence at his side.

Victor Sutterfield smiles warmly, extending a hand toward me. "It is an absolute pleasure to meet you, Alexis. Cain usually attends these dull events looking like he’s calculating the quickest exit strategy, but having you here seems to have worked wonders on his patience."

I laugh softly, shaking his hand. "He's putting on his best behavior for me tonight, Mr. Sutterfield."

"Please, call me Victor," Sutterfield says with a light chuckle, smoothly keeping his eyes on both of us as he transitions into discussing the new city development project.

Rather than talking over me or treating me like arm candy, he looks directly at me as he explains the design architecture.

"What's your take, Alexis? Does the city need more steel and glass, or room to breathe?"

"Room to breathe, without a doubt," I answer smoothly. "And green spaces along the waterfront raise property values long-term."

Victor Sterling’s eyes light up with genuine intrigue. He nods slowly, taking a small sip of his champagne. "Cain, you have a sharp one on your arm."

Beside me, Cain’s large hand squeezes mine, a warm, possessive pulse through my fingers. "I'm well aware," he rumbles, his tone dripping with quiet pride.

After a few more minutes of conversation, Victor excuses himself with a polite nod and Cain pulls me toward the far side of the ballroom, where the rest of the Kavanagh family has claimed a spacious VIP booth overlooking the floor.

Ezekiel, Riley, Levi, Elijah, Malachi, and Jade are already settled around the table, laughing and clinking glasses of expensive champagne.

For the next two hours, the heaviness of the syndicate falls into the background. We drink, share stories, and Cain even leads me out to the center floor for a slow, seamless dance under the soft glow of the chandeliers, his large frame wrapped around mine while the world spins around us.

When we finally return to the booth and slip into the plush leather seating, Cain rests his heavy arm over the back of my seat, his fingers idling softly in my hair.

"I've counted at least twelve men in this room staring at you for the past twenty minutes," he mutters, his voice dropping into a dark, low growl meant for my ears only. "I'm exercising a disturbing amount of self-control right now, doll."

I lean closer to him, a teasing smile playing on my lips as I run my fingers down the lapel of his tailored tuxedo jacket. "Look at you, behaving surprisingly well in public. I'm almost impressed."