She laughed outright this time. “That’s the lowest bar I’ve ever cleared.”
“Most people here are interested in nothing but spectacle.”
“I am interested in spectacle,” she said, glancing briefly at the chandeliers above us. “But only when it means something.”
“And what does this mean?” I asked.
Her eyes returned to mine. “Illusion.”
“In what way?”
“Everyone here believes anonymity makes them powerful. It doesn’t. It just makes them honest.”
“Honest?”
“Yes. Without names, people show what they want without fear of consequence.”
“And what do you want?” I asked quietly.
She didn’t look away.
“You first.”
Fair.
“I want control,” I said again. “And tonight… I want this.”
Her breath caught, almost imperceptibly.
“This?” she echoed.
“Yes.”
Her fingers tightened slightly against my shoulder. “That’s very decisive.”
“I don’t hesitate when I’m certain.”
“And you’re certain?”
“I don’t approach things I don’t intend to pursue.”
The space between us shrank without either of us consciously moving. Her pulse flickered at the base of her throat.
“That sounds dangerous,” she murmured.
“For who?”
“For both of us.”
I let my hand slide slightly higher along her waist. It was still controlled. Still measured.
“Is the attraction mutual?” I asked.
Her lips parted, just slightly.
“Yes.”
There was no hesitation in that word. Just truth. The answer settled into my bloodstream like something addictive. I didn’t rush the kiss. I let the moment stretch until it felt inevitable, and then I leaned in. Her lips were warm against mine. Soft. She didn’t gasp or freeze. She met me halfway, fingers sliding from my shoulder up into my hair, tightening just slightly. The kiss wasn’t frantic. It was deliberate. It was everything a kiss should be and more.
