Glass shattered between us. Champagne exploded across his chest, soaking that beautiful midnight blue suit.
The sound echoed. Too loud.
“Well,” I said, letting amusement colour my tone despite adrenaline singing through my veins, “that's one way to make an introduction. Though I usually save soaking people for the second date at least.”
His jaw tightened. I watched the muscle jump, fascinated despite the danger.
“What are you doing here?”
“Same as everyone else.” I gestured toward the ballroom, smile firmly in place. “Celebrating. Getting a drink. Getting lost looking for the loo. Wedding things.”
“This corridor is off-limits to guests.”
“Is it?” I let my gaze drift down the empty hallway, then back to him. “Didn't see a sign. Though if you're trying to keep people out, you might want actual barriers. Or at least a grumpy guard. You've definitely got the grumpy part covered.”
“You think this is funny?”
“I think you're standing here dripping champagne while interrogating a guest about getting lost.” I tilted my head, studying him. “So yeah. A bit funny. Should I be concerned? Are you the fun police?”
He stepped closer. Deliberate. Testing whether I'd back down.
I held my ground. Looked up at him through my lashes. “Personal space is a thing. Though I'm not complaining. The view's rather nice from here.”
His breath caught. Just slightly. Just enough that I heard it.
“You're bold for someone caught where they shouldn't be.”
“I prefer 'confident.' Bold sounds reckless.” I let my gaze drop to his champagne-soaked chest, then back up. “Though spilling drinks on intimidating strangers probably counts as reckless. That suit was beautiful. Past tense. Tragic.”
“You talk a lot.”
“Nervous habit. You're very intense.” I pulled a handkerchief from my pocket, offered it. “Let me at least pretend to help. I'll feel terrible otherwise.”
He stared at it like I'd offered him a grenade.
“Just take it. It's clean.”
He took it. Our fingers brushed, and electricity shot up my arm. His eyes locked on mine, pupils dilating, and I saw the exact moment he felt it too.
Fuck.
“You should return to the ballroom,” he said, voice rougher than before. “Before you get more lost.”
“That sounds like excellent advice.” I stepped back, gave him space, let my smile stay easy despite my heart hammering. “Though getting lost led to much more interesting company than expected. Silver linings.”
I turned to leave, got three steps.
“Next time you want to eavesdrop, try being less obvious.”
I looked back. He was watching me, champagne-soaked and dangerous and somehow amused beneath all that control.
“Who says I was eavesdropping?”
“Your recording device is still in your hand.”
Fuck. I glanced down. He was right.
I pulled it out fully, held it up with a self-deprecating smile. “You caught me. Though not for eavesdropping.”
