12-27-2024, 08:23 PM
Carter’s hand rested on her waist, the touch igniting an electric tension neither of them could ignore. He was painfully aware of how close she was, how perfectly she moved in time with the music. Yet the heat in her eyes, masked only by her practiced smile, reminded him that this was far from a romantic reunion. Colette’s composure was flawless for the crowd’s sake, but he could feel the anger radiating off her in waves.
He hesitated, glancing around the room, careful not to draw any more attention. He’d already done enough damage simply by being here. He let out a slow breath, matching her measured steps as he leaned in closer, his voice low enough to stay between them.
“I came here for you,” he admitted, his tone soft but unapologetic. His eyes, sharp and intense, locked onto hers. “I didn’t know if you’d even talk to me, so… I improvised.”
Colette’s fingers tightened slightly on his shoulder, her jaw visibly clenching, though her expression for the audience remained that of a poised, carefree woman enjoying a dance with her partner. “You improvised?” she hissed under her breath, her anger crackling through her controlled tone. “Carter, this isn’t some school reunion. This is Moscow. You don’t just improvise your way into a room full of people like this.”
He tilted his head slightly, his lips twitching into a faint smirk, though it was tinged with a hint of defiance. “And yet, here I am,” he said. “No one noticed me until now, and no one would’ve noticed at all if it weren’t for… that little moment.” His eyes flicked briefly toward Cyrena and Zixin, his voice dripping with subtle blame for the scene they had inadvertently caused.
Colette’s grip on his shoulder tightened further, her movements as precise as ever but her tone laced with quiet fury. “You can’t be serious. You just show up, no warning, no explanation, and expect—what? That I’d just fall into your arms and forget everything?”
“No,” Carter replied, his voice firm, his gaze unwavering. “I didn’t expect that. But I needed to see you, Colette. I needed to know if… if there’s still a chance, and you need to come home.” His words faltered slightly, but the vulnerability behind them was unmistakable.
Colette’s jaw tightened, but she didn’t respond right away. She glanced around the room, her face still a mask of calm perfection, before returning her gaze to his. “You have no idea what you’ve done,” she said finally, her voice trembling just slightly beneath the practiced steadiness. “You don’t belong here, Carter, and you’re going to ruin everything.”
“And yet,” Carter said again, his tone firm and resolute, “I’m here. For you.”
Her breath hitched slightly, her steps faltering for the briefest of moments before she caught herself and continued their smooth waltz across the floor. “You should leave,” she said, her voice low and cutting, though her eyes betrayed something more complicated—anger, yes, but also a flicker of something she couldn’t quite name. “Before you ruin more than just this evening.”
Carter leaned in slightly, his voice dropping to an intimate murmur. “If you wanted me to leave, you wouldn’t be dancing with me right now.”
The remark hit its mark, and Colette’s lips pressed into a tight line. She hated how easily he could cut through her defenses, hated the way his words stirred something in her she thought she’d buried. She hated that, despite everything, she hadn’t already walked away.
Her response was quiet, a whisper meant for him alone. “This dance isn’t for us, Carter. It’s for them.” Her eyes flicked subtly to the crowd, still watching. “When this is over, so are we. You’ll walk out of here, and I’ll pretend you never showed up.”
Carter’s smirk faded, replaced by something more serious, more determined. “We both know you don’t mean that,” he said. He wasn’t ready to let her go—not tonight, not ever—and he knew, somewhere deep down, that she wasn’t ready to let him go either.
But for now, he played along, his steps steady and graceful as they moved together as if they’d never been apart. Whatever came next, whatever she decided, he wasn’t about to let her slip away without a fight.
He hesitated, glancing around the room, careful not to draw any more attention. He’d already done enough damage simply by being here. He let out a slow breath, matching her measured steps as he leaned in closer, his voice low enough to stay between them.
“I came here for you,” he admitted, his tone soft but unapologetic. His eyes, sharp and intense, locked onto hers. “I didn’t know if you’d even talk to me, so… I improvised.”
Colette’s fingers tightened slightly on his shoulder, her jaw visibly clenching, though her expression for the audience remained that of a poised, carefree woman enjoying a dance with her partner. “You improvised?” she hissed under her breath, her anger crackling through her controlled tone. “Carter, this isn’t some school reunion. This is Moscow. You don’t just improvise your way into a room full of people like this.”
He tilted his head slightly, his lips twitching into a faint smirk, though it was tinged with a hint of defiance. “And yet, here I am,” he said. “No one noticed me until now, and no one would’ve noticed at all if it weren’t for… that little moment.” His eyes flicked briefly toward Cyrena and Zixin, his voice dripping with subtle blame for the scene they had inadvertently caused.
Colette’s grip on his shoulder tightened further, her movements as precise as ever but her tone laced with quiet fury. “You can’t be serious. You just show up, no warning, no explanation, and expect—what? That I’d just fall into your arms and forget everything?”
“No,” Carter replied, his voice firm, his gaze unwavering. “I didn’t expect that. But I needed to see you, Colette. I needed to know if… if there’s still a chance, and you need to come home.” His words faltered slightly, but the vulnerability behind them was unmistakable.
Colette’s jaw tightened, but she didn’t respond right away. She glanced around the room, her face still a mask of calm perfection, before returning her gaze to his. “You have no idea what you’ve done,” she said finally, her voice trembling just slightly beneath the practiced steadiness. “You don’t belong here, Carter, and you’re going to ruin everything.”
“And yet,” Carter said again, his tone firm and resolute, “I’m here. For you.”
Her breath hitched slightly, her steps faltering for the briefest of moments before she caught herself and continued their smooth waltz across the floor. “You should leave,” she said, her voice low and cutting, though her eyes betrayed something more complicated—anger, yes, but also a flicker of something she couldn’t quite name. “Before you ruin more than just this evening.”
Carter leaned in slightly, his voice dropping to an intimate murmur. “If you wanted me to leave, you wouldn’t be dancing with me right now.”
The remark hit its mark, and Colette’s lips pressed into a tight line. She hated how easily he could cut through her defenses, hated the way his words stirred something in her she thought she’d buried. She hated that, despite everything, she hadn’t already walked away.
Her response was quiet, a whisper meant for him alone. “This dance isn’t for us, Carter. It’s for them.” Her eyes flicked subtly to the crowd, still watching. “When this is over, so are we. You’ll walk out of here, and I’ll pretend you never showed up.”
Carter’s smirk faded, replaced by something more serious, more determined. “We both know you don’t mean that,” he said. He wasn’t ready to let her go—not tonight, not ever—and he knew, somewhere deep down, that she wasn’t ready to let him go either.
But for now, he played along, his steps steady and graceful as they moved together as if they’d never been apart. Whatever came next, whatever she decided, he wasn’t about to let her slip away without a fight.