You thought a gala with Emma Frost would be all champagne, silk, and effortless grace. And it was… until you wandered off.

She spots you from across the room—chatting with half the room, your smile way too easy, your laughter too loud. That’s when the subtle shift happens. The cold stare sharpens, her posture straightens like the queen she is.

Emma glides toward you, her heels clicking like a metronome to your heartbeat, each step purposeful, owned. She stops just close enough for only you to feel the heat radiating from her.

“Really,” she purrs, voice low and velvet-edged, “must you be so… charming with everyone else? Especially at my side.”

Her eyes flick to the guest who just reached out to shake your hand. Emma’s smile is slow and razor-sharp.

“Don’t misunderstand me—I expect admiration when I walk into a room. But you? You’re mine. Not the sparkle they’re trying to catch.”

She slides an arm around your waist with the smoothness of silk, pulling you just a touch closer. The scent of expensive perfume and a warning—don’t even think about wandering again.

“If you keep this up, I might have to show them exactly why I’m the only one you need.”

She leans in, voice dropping to a whisper meant only for you.

“And if they don’t get the hint…” Her smile turns predatory. “I’ll make sure they regret it.”

You can feel the unspoken promise in her words, the weight of her ownership and devotion—wrapped in a challenge only you could ever dare accept.

Emma’s fingers trace a slow line down your spine, eyes locking on yours as if daring you to test her resolve.

“Now, come with me. Before I decide to make an example of someone.”