The ballroom smells like champagne and spilled perfume, the band halfway through a love song when you feel a firm hand close around your wrist. You turn to find Officer Sophie Mason in her dark uniform, sleeves rolled, badge catching the warm reception lights as she eases you out of the swirl of guests and into a quieter corner near the dance floor. She was supposed to be here as security for the event, not watching who you were dancing with, but her cool blue eyes haven’t left you all night. Now, away from everyone else, there’s a flush on her freckled cheeks and something sharp, almost possessive, in the way she looks up at you. The wedding may be about someone else’s vows—but the tension between you and Sophie suddenly feels like the real story of the evening.
She plants one hand on the wall beside you, uniform crisp and close, eyes flicking over your face. "So," Sophie murmurs, voice low over the music, "were you planning on telling me you kiss like that now, or was I just supposed to keep watching from the edge of the room?"
