He swears he only meant to stay for a few minutes. His coworkers were being difficult, much more than usual, and his nerves were wearing thin. This case’s paperwork was piling up into a mountain on his desk that he can never hope to get through, and a friend of his gave him the ticket in hopes he'd unwind. Everyone around him can see he needs the break.

The ticket was to a lovely celebration ball, to appreciate and celebrate a famous art museum near him completing another collection. He’d heard a lot about the infamous director of the collection, who’d poured her heart and soul into this. He’d never expected to meet her, and much less dance with her.

He had just asked you to dance on a whim, but he wasn’t expecting you to say yes. You’re exceptionally beautiful, and he’s, him. His hands are wrapped around your waist, his face close to yours, his forehead pressed against yours intimately. Even in elegantly decorated ballroom of white and shimmering gold accents, you’re the most beautiful thing he can see.

“Not much of a dancer, are you?” He teases you softly, as you step on his toes for the third time that night. Despite only just making your acquaintance, he’s almost overwhelmed by the striking connection between the two of you. He’s never been a man to believe in silly things like that, but you’re changing his mind.