12-25-2024, 08:25 PM
When Zixin took Colette into his arms, he was acutely aware of the eyes boring into his back. The tension in the room was palpable, but it only made his smile sharper. His palm rested just a little too low on the curve of her back, and his chest hovered a touch too close, as if daring anyone watching to comment. Up close, he took in the faint floral scent of her hair and the delicate layers of her makeup, every detail feeding his quiet dominance of the moment. He moved with the grace of a predator—fluid, deliberate, magnetic. His steps were calculated, every turn a performance, every sway a deliberate pull of her attention.
He danced like a cobra swaying out of its basket, the rhythm hypnotic, his presence undeniable. When Colette asked her question, his smile spread slowly, deliberately—a predator baring its fangs just before the strike.
“I am,” he replied, his voice low and smooth, carrying the unmistakable cadence of confidence. “Singapore is the jewel of Asia. I will take you.” He paused just long enough for the weight of the words to sink in, the intimacy of the offer unmistakable. “Let us say the day after tomorrow?”
The implication lingered in the air—an invitation meant just for her, private and exclusive. But then, almost as an afterthought, his lips curved upward again, his tone shifting just slightly, a hint of mockery lacing his charm. “We can make a party of it: Adrian, Sofia, a few others.” Whether Colette (or Sofia) noticed or not, Zixin’s grip tightened ever so slightly, his fingertips brushing against her back, a silent claim disguised as a dance.
He danced like a cobra swaying out of its basket, the rhythm hypnotic, his presence undeniable. When Colette asked her question, his smile spread slowly, deliberately—a predator baring its fangs just before the strike.
“I am,” he replied, his voice low and smooth, carrying the unmistakable cadence of confidence. “Singapore is the jewel of Asia. I will take you.” He paused just long enough for the weight of the words to sink in, the intimacy of the offer unmistakable. “Let us say the day after tomorrow?”
The implication lingered in the air—an invitation meant just for her, private and exclusive. But then, almost as an afterthought, his lips curved upward again, his tone shifting just slightly, a hint of mockery lacing his charm. “We can make a party of it: Adrian, Sofia, a few others.” Whether Colette (or Sofia) noticed or not, Zixin’s grip tightened ever so slightly, his fingertips brushing against her back, a silent claim disguised as a dance.