The classical melody began to play softly.
The ballroom shimmered with shifting lights.
Warm hues dissolved into a dreamy, flickering glow.
Guests had already started drifting onto the dance floor.
Ethan Sullivan glanced down at the woman beside him.
"Can you dance?" His voice was low.
Sophia Sullivan met his gaze.
"I've had some lessons." A faint smile touched her lips. "But it's been a while. I might be rusty."
She had learned ballroom dancing during survival training on that deserted island.
But that had been purely for mission purposes.
A formal event like this was entirely new to her.
Her eyes swept the room.
Young women twirled in dresses that fluttered like butterfly wings.
The champagne tower sparkled under crystal chandeliers.
Agate floors gleamed like mirrors.
Every detail exuded extravagance.
"Doesn't matter." Ethan's expression remained composed. "I'm no expert either."
Sophia arched a brow. "Aren't you afraid I'll scuff your shoes?"
"If we make fools of ourselves," his eyes darkened slightly, "we'll do it together."
He extended his hand.
No unnecessary pleasantries.
He knew her too well.
Sophia never needed coddling.
"May I have this dance, Ms. Sullivan?"
His fingers were warm.
She rested her hand lightly on his shoulder.
"The honor is mine."
The ball had been underway for some time.
Yet she still hadn't spotted Ian or Ryan in the crowd.
The absence of complications was almost refreshing.
She moved in sync with Ethan's steps.
"Have you seen Ian and the others?"
Before she could finish, his grip tightened around her waist.
Ethan's gaze darkened.
"When you're dancing with me," his voice dropped lower, "don't think about other men."
His tailored suit accentuated his broad shoulders.
The hand at her back held her with undeniable authority.
The music suddenly shifted.
Classical notes blended with modern rhythms.
Lights flickered unpredictably.
Sophia nearly missed a step.
Ethan steadied her with a firm hand.
"Too fast," she murmured, frowning.
All traces of her earlier ease vanished.
He spun her effortlessly.
"A few hours ago," his breath brushed her ear, "you didn't seem to mind speed."
The whisper sent shivers down her spine.
Sophia dug her fingers into his side.
"Ethan," she tilted her head up, locking eyes with him, "men shouldn't brag about being fast."
Electric tension crackled between them.
Beneath the surface calm, an unspoken challenge simmered.
Ethan chuckled.
Not even flinching at the pinch.
His lips curved with amusement.
"Care to put that to the test?"
"My thoughts exactly."
No clarification needed.
Both abandoned their casual pretense.
Their movements grew sharp and precise.
Ethan's calloused palm skimmed the silk of her dress.
Heat seeped through the fabric.
Lights swirled in hazy patterns.
Their locked gazes burned hotter.
His touch was scorching.
Commanding by nature.
Leaving no room for escape.