Anastasia leans in softly, meeting Fergus's lips, though her motivations are far from soft. As she is kissing her fiance, all she can see behind her closed lids are flashes of Nathaniel and his wife in each other's arms, and how they have kissed at the end of the awards presentation when Pamela has been congratulated as the host of the ball. Anastasia tries to intensify slightly the kiss to erase those images, but even if Fergus is returning the kiss eagerly, it doesn't work.

When she pulls away, she is breathless, yet not because of the kiss, because of the feeling closing her throat, which she recognizes as jealousy. She has never felt it before, but the sour taste of it leaves no doubt. 

She is jealous of how close this woman is to Nathaniel and everything they seem to share. They are married, so she shouldn't be envious; she will have the same with Fergus. 

This is sick, having those thoughts while she is in her future husband's arms, and she almost freezes with the turn of her stomach upon this awful realization. Yet she can't; she has to pretend everything is fine. So despite the crippling disgust at this realization, at herself, spreading in her veins sourer than jealousy, she concentrates on her feet, on not tripping, on keeping swaying in rhythm with Fergus, and on being a normal couple dancing.

She glances around, trying to distract herself from those thoughts, yet also quickly coming back to question too much as she observes the many other couples on the dance floor and wonders what they are feeling in their spouse's arms, if they are feeling better than her...

However, once more, she doesn't get an answer in everyone's conventional stances and perfect smiles, well, everyone except from one person, who isn't smiling, and she stiffens, this time, not frozen but burned, burned by the intensity of Nathaniel's dark eyes in the dim room.

"Are you alright?" Fergus must have sensed all of her muscles tensing in his arms, and she focuses her eyes on his light hazel ones, while all her other senses are directed somewhere else.

"Yes... how about we go talk somewhere more private?"

This is the perfect time, she tells herself. First, because she is suffocating in this wide room with Nathaniel around, and second, because she has promised herself she would talk things through with Fergus. She has tried earlier, but they have always got interrupted. Now, she wants – she needs to do it as soon as possible. She feels herself growing away from Fergus with each passing day, and it only draws her closer to Nathaniel, or maybe he is the reason why she is drifting away from Fergus?

Anyway, this has to stop; she can't stay mad at her future husband. After all, he isn't the only one who has wrongs. Besides, he doesn't really mean wrong, and she is far from the perfect bride-to-be. 

They need to both work on their marriage, and maybe they can agree on their future together, find a middle-ground between his perfect idea of a family and her dreams. So she hastily pulls him away, rushed by all these determinations and chased by too many preoccupations.

A soon-to-be-wed couple sneaking out to a dark conservatory, a young maiden eager to be alone with her fiance, there is nothing shocking about it. Yet it doesn't go unnoticed to a pair of dark eyes, which has followed discreetly every move and step of the couple on the dance floor and until they disappear behind a glass door.

Nate is seething, already imagining what they might be doing away from people's eyes, and his hands turning into fists almost smash the glass in his right hand. 

It has been already hard enough watching them dance so close, like taunting him as this man has been doing something Nate could never. Sure he has shared plenty of dances with Pamela tonight and many times before, but his arms are itching to hold Anastasia's tiny silhouette. 

Flashes of her fiance's hands on the pale fabric of her dress appear in his mind, and now, he can't even imagine where those greedy hands might be.

The thought of someone else uncovering his sweet angel's intimacy is driving him crazy. It may have already happened actually. Nate has been her first, that's already a precious gift. Why is he wishing to be the first and the only one?

"Are you okay, dude?" Darrell wraps an arm around Nate's shoulders, bringing him back to the time and place instead of picturing what might be going on behind closed doors.

"Yeah, fine." Nate takes a sip of his drink, mostly hiding behind his glass, as he barely tastes the alcohol through the bitterness in the back of his throat.

"You sure? Because you're glaring at a door, and you've not listened to a word of what the old colonel was saying!" Darrell smirks, his eyes shining with the typical sparkle of alcohol.

"Because you've listened?" Nate lifts up an eyebrow at his friend.

"No! But I never listen!" Darrell grins, almost proudly, making Nate roll his eyes, and if it was any other normal party, he would chuckle at his friend's drunk unrestrained bluntness, even if the alcohol isn't for much in it.

Yet today, there's no amusement as he lets out in a mutter, "I don't need his usual rambling about army strategies." 

"Wow! You're really in a party mood tonight, even more than usual, Grumpy Pants! Try some!" Darrell raises his half-empty glass at him.

"It's not strong enough." Nate finishes his drink, suspecting that only one beverage would quench his thirst and lighten his mood, and it's not something he could find at the bar.

"I agree!" Darrell hands him his empty glass, clearly not having the same thirst in mind as his friend, as something is catching his clear gaze on the other side of the room, and he heaves out a sigh. "Duty calls!" 

Nate finds himself alone again as Darrell joins his wife with heavy steps, and he shakes his head at his friend who is never keen on all the support and devotion of the marriage, though who is he to judge when he hasn't respected one of the most basic principles?

He puts down the glasses and exits the ballroom, even if he doesn't know where to go to escape his thoughts.

***

Has the talk gone well? Anastasia is still wondering as she wanders the hallways, looking for a restroom. She doesn't really need to go to the bathroom, but she needs to be alone for some time. 

The discussion with Fergus has left her as confused as she has been before. She doesn't know if she is disappointed or content, hopeful or hopeless. Fergus hasn't really disagreed, yet he hasn't changed his mind either. She has told him what has been on her mind, yet she hasn't confessed all her lies either. So have they really progressed? It's unclear, everything she doesn't like.

She is pulled out of her confusion quicker than expected and it isn't like she has imagined, as she doesn't reach the bathroom; she is literally pulled by someone in a near room, and the blur of her thoughts is cleared with the halt of her heart.

The rush of adrenaline following in her veins isn't out of fear though. There is only one person who could draw her into an empty room and make her body feel this way. Besides, she instantly recognizes the intoxicating perfume engulfing her.

"Hi, Nathaniel," she whispers, making Nate's heart skips a beat too.

How can she know before even turning around?

"Hi, Anastasia," he replies in a breath when she finally faces him, and after a second to snap out of a daze as hazy as burning steam, he quickly adds, as if justifying for pulling her in a small room, "I wanted to congratulate you for your speech." 

"Thank you... once again." She offers him a shy smile, as they both know that's what she tells him almost every time she sees him. "That's the tequila!" Her eyes are indeed twinkling more than usual, but he isn't sure it's because of the alcohol, the discreet make-up accentuating the mystical colors, because of how close he's standing to her, or something else.

"No, I think it's this." He points his finger right above her heart, which almost jumps out of her chest like attracted by a magnet, and the impact is so strong against her ribcage that it is hard to breathe, unless it is just the penetrating intensity of his tenebrous eyes making the air thicker?

Anyway, she takes a shaky breath along with a step back, averting her gaze and taking in their surroundings for the first time.

Nate watches her silently as she is mindlessly walking around the modest room, and he's divided between annoyed and thankful at the way she is avoiding him. Though these two emotions quickly vanish, replaced with pure awe as her angelic figure moving around the room is hypnotizing him, her bare back and the curves of her small waist making him forget everything.

Her gaze, and then her fingers, pass delicately on the objects around the room: a sculpture in pearls, fairy lights, ancient silver mirrors, and a small apple tree in a flowerpot. 

So this is where Pamela has put the decorations that haven't been fancy enough. He doesn't understand because right now, he is finding them incredibly sophisticated with Anastasia's ethereal touch brushing them, and this sight seems out of this world, heavenly. 

He could almost believe they've escaped the party, escaped this reality if the shadows of this world weren't always hovering around, resurfacing at the slightest reminder like the birdcage her fingers are grazing, or the soft skin of her lower back.

"What were you doing alone in the hallways?" The words leave his lips before he can think, although it isn't exactly what he has been wondering.

"I can ask you the same question." She looks back at him, her gaze shining more than the fairy lights by her side.

"I needed some quiet to clear my thoughts," he admits in front of her piercing gaze, not the lawyer one, though, the one much more effective to reach deep inside, softer, and more mystical, as it appears far away and lost when her fingers graze a delicate flower of the apple tree, the same pale pink as her dress.

"Me too..." 

"And did it work?" He takes a step closer, only half-conscious of what he's doing as she turns back to him.

"No." Clearly no, she realizes as she meets his tenebrous eyes again, and all her confusion and questions come back along with a blurrier daze.

Actually, there are his too, their doubts and torments weighing in the air and mixing in their gazes, and that's surely what makes the silence fall in the small space, each of their shallow breaths echoing louder and each thump of their hearts accentuated.

When she moves slightly, it's the thought she might walk away and leave him alone with his haunting torments that rings too loudly.

So in a rush to break this silence, the words tumble out of his lips – from where? He doesn't know, but surely not his brain. "Dance with me."

"What?" Her wide eyes stare at him as if he had just said the craziest thing ever, and maybe it is.

"Dance with me," he repeats, his voice hoarse, yet determined. He knows only his sweet angel can make his old demons disappear. "You always say you owe me. Consider this your thank you gift. This is what I want." He offers her a smile more assured than the rest of his body is as her eyes stay as large.

"This doesn't counterbalance," she argues, trying to ignore the tingles this demand, his eyes, well, all of him, are sending down her spine.

"It does for me."

Nate doesn't want her practical lawyer side tonight; he needs her gentle heart, and he won't back down.

"Shouldn't you be at the ball? They might need you, your –"

"This is just a dance." Though this simple dance appears like the thing he wants the most in the world right now. "S'il te plaît."

Her heart stops, leaps, and then comes back to a restless pace on just this one word. But this one word, this simple 'please', holds so much more meaning for her, and it makes everything waver inside as her gaze flickers to the hand he is offering her, then back to his tender and intense chocolate eyes.

"There is no music..." she protests, while still taking his hand, and he definitely has the winning argument when his dark eyes light up more than she has ever seen them.

He swiftly takes out his phone, bending down to put it on the floor while his gaze stays on hers, not straying away for a second, just like his hand in hers, and as if afraid any sudden movement would change her mind, even his words appear careful and gentle.

"Ettie, play a slow dancing song."

He leads her to the center as the quiet first notes of a song start echoing in the room, and he doesn't even watch where he's walking, as his eyes are focused only on her, making sure she doesn't disappear like she always does, but also grasping that she is really there and that it isn't one of his delusional fantasies, which happen a lot too.

However, he would never be able to imagine this when she wraps her arms around his neck, and the way she's taking his breath away is too real, too sweet to be a dream. So he pulls her closer, his hands naturally finding her hips, and he breathes in her sweet perfume, savoring to feel her so soft between his arms.

She is melting in his embrace. It is so tender and so warm that she doesn't even know how she can still be standing, and she keeps clutching to him tighter and closer.

This is not 'just a dance' because she has shared several dances with Fergus tonight, and it hasn't felt like this. It hasn't felt so cozy and gentle, suffocating her heart in the smoothest way possible. It hasn't felt like home, yet like a leap into the unknown as it is right now. The sensations are like two universes apart, and she is getting lost in zero gravity with Nathaniel.

His hot breath is tickling the skin of her neck, creating a trail of goosebumps as slow and steady as the soft melody playing, and his hands are moving the same way, inching until his calloused fingers reach her silky pale skin. Her legs almost give out at the light contact, a swarm of dainty butterflies taking off, and they are expanding higher as his fingers wander so slowly and feather-likely. It just feels surreal.

She lets her own hands explore, one brushing the smooth hair just at the nape of his neck, and the other sliding along the velvety fabric of his black tuxedo, stopping on his firm chest, right over his heart. The fast and uneven drumming under her palm might not be at all in rhythm with the lento song, yet it is perfectly in sync with the loud bangs resonating in her chest, and she is sure he can hear and feel this harmony too.

They're so close that every inch of their bodies is touching, only separated by the delicate fabric of their clothes, and every sensation is shared. They're almost forming one. Nate can glimpse it in the carved mirror, along with the dizzying sight of her pearly back and her slim silhouette under his hands.

At this point, they are barely moving, in slow-motion, forgetting the world outside, as they're too engulfed in their own universe and in each other. The song playing is describing a perfect match, but his fingers are creating new lyrics on her bare skin, and if the music, or even time, stopped right now, none of them would mind.

She actually realizes she doesn't know how much time has passed, a second, an hour, a lifetime... when the loud ringtone of her phone covers the song and their heartbeats. For an instant, she doesn't assimilate from where the strident sound is coming, and they just stare at each other with big eyes, watching their fall back into this world.

When she comes back down to earth, and it finally clicks in her brain, she stumbles to her clutch, and it is still dizzily that she pulls out her phone. Yet the dozens of unread texts from Fergus, Andy, and Khloe appear too clearly on the screen, and the impact from the crash reaches her head. 

Not only she has forgotten her preoccupations and questions during this 'dance' – though she still doesn't think it can be called a 'dance' – she also has forgotten the time and place, and if someone had asked her name, she doubts she would have remembered.

But now, she remembers, and she also remembers all the rules they have broken, all the risks they are taking, and all the reasons why this has been a dangerous idea. It is all rushing in her head, just like her movements as she quickly grabs her clutch bag. 

However, she still slows down for a second to face Nathaniel.

In his eyes, she can glimpse so many emotions and confusion, probably as much as what is inside the chaos of her head, and it makes it all more overwhelming.

Yet she doesn't have time, not even for a breath as she says, "I gotta go, thank you."

Like always her thanks are followed by a small smile, and in the haste, she doesn't think; following a bold impulse, or maybe her heart, she kisses his cheek before fighting the pull on all her muscles and running to the door, and a part of her is riped out and left in that room as she passes the doorstep.

Nate stays frozen, staring at the empty spot as his fingers instinctively go to his cheek, cherishing the kiss she's left. In her precipitation, her lips have taken the time to linger a second, like leaving an indelible mark, and he can still feel their softness warming his skin; he can still feel all of her, and he is blinking as if waken up from another hazy dream as he tries to put his thoughts back in order over the loud thumps of his heart.

One second he's had her in his arms, easing his torments and almost healing his soul, and the next she's disappeared in a whirlwind. A tornado, running her course after having dazed him. 

The contrast between their slow dance in a bubble and her swift exit is hitting him like a... tornado, and with his thoughts still swirling, he goes after her, not willing to let her slip through his fingers this time.

He's rushing through the empty hallways as if there was a real tempest, except that instead of running away from it, he's following her, and he only realizes how dangerous it is when he's stopped dead in his tracks. 

There she is, his tornado, on the other side of the long and dark hallway, and he's blown away as he watches her taking a turn toward the ballroom, with a tall raven-haired man.

I'm on Instagram!!!! Sorry for my outburst not related to the story! Though it is, because this is an account dedicated to my writing and I'll share quotes and aesthetics for my books there! So go follow me and I'll follow you back! I'll put a link below 😁

Back to the story, what do you think of this Cinderella moment? Too bad they don't know the fairytale because it's forbidden 😢

Who is this raven-haired guy BTW? 😉

If you liked this chapter, vote and comment all your thoughts!!