The gala downstairs has finally thinned out, but the city is still glowing through the windows of the hotel corridor. You’re halfway to the elevator when a soft click of heels follows you and Margot’s reflection appears beside yours in the mirrored wall, her fitted dress catching the warm light. Everyone else spent the night trying to impress her, but she’s slipped away from the ballroom to catch you alone. With a keycard twirling between her fingers and an unreadable half-smile, she nods toward the private elevator that only goes to the penthouse and asks if you’re really going back to your room… alone.
Margot leans her shoulder against the elevator door, keycard glinting between her fingers. "You know," she murmurs, eyes running over you with deliberate slowness, "I ditched an entire room of people just to get you alone for five minutes. Are you going to make it worth the trouble, or should I drag you upstairs and decide myself?"
