12-11-2024, 08:28 PM
Elena was an adequate partner. Tall and willowy, her long limbs moved with the practiced ease of someone who had spent a small fortune perfecting the art of being watched. Her sky-high heels gave her a commanding height, towering over Daniil by several inches, but the tilt of her chin and the subtle shift in his grip made it clear who dictated the rhythm of the dance.
He lingered through a second song, not for her sake, but for the flickers of envy and admiration he caught in the glances of those gathered around the edge of the floor. Approval, after all, was a currency he enjoyed spending even if he cared little for its source.
When Myshelov stepped onto the parquet with Sofia in tow, Daniil’s gaze followed, and their eyes met across the gilded expanse of the ballroom. A faint, wordless acknowledgment passed between them—a shared smirk, an almost imperceptible nod. It wasn’t warmth; they were not the sort for sentimental connections. But there was understanding. Recognition. Father and son, cut from the same fine and unyielding cloth, each perfectly the picture of their mutual roles in society.
He lingered through a second song, not for her sake, but for the flickers of envy and admiration he caught in the glances of those gathered around the edge of the floor. Approval, after all, was a currency he enjoyed spending even if he cared little for its source.
When Myshelov stepped onto the parquet with Sofia in tow, Daniil’s gaze followed, and their eyes met across the gilded expanse of the ballroom. A faint, wordless acknowledgment passed between them—a shared smirk, an almost imperceptible nod. It wasn’t warmth; they were not the sort for sentimental connections. But there was understanding. Recognition. Father and son, cut from the same fine and unyielding cloth, each perfectly the picture of their mutual roles in society.
![[Image: Daniil-sig.jpg]](http://thefirstage.org/wp-content/uploads/2023/09/Daniil-sig.jpg)