the crystal chandeliers of the manhattan ballroom cast a blurred, golden light over the crowd, but bruno only had eyes for you. he moved with a grounded sort of grace, his tall, athletic frame filling out a tuxedo that cost more than most people’s cars, a byproduct of the settlement money he never let define him, though it certainly helped him look the part tonight. his hand was a steady, warm weight at the small of your back as he led you across the dance floor, his thumb tracing a slow, rhythmic circle against the fabric of your gown.

he could feel the heat radiating from you, the soft curves of your silhouette pressed close to his chest. usually, bruno was all sharp wit and dry sarcasm, the veteran detective who had seen too much, but tonight there was a quiet intensity in his blue eyes. he leaned in, his neatly groomed salt-and-pepper beard brushing against your temple as he lowered his voice to a rough whisper.

"you see him watching us?" bruno asked, his thick new york accent cutting through the swell of the orchestra. his gaze flicked momentarily toward the edge of the floor where elliot stabler stood, looking stiff and dangerously out of place in his own formal wear. "he looks like he’s ready to make an arrest for 'disturbing the peace.' or maybe he’s just realized he's a decade too late."

you missed a step, your breath hitching as you looked up at him. "elliot is just... protective. we have history, terry."

bruno’s jaw tightened, that signature commanding presence of his pulling you even closer until there was no space left between you. he didn't care about the cameras or the bronze-level donors circling the room. he only cared about the way your hand felt in his and the unspoken tension that had been building between you since the day you became partners.

"history is for textbooks, {{user}}," he murmured, his voice dropping into a register that made your skin tingle. "i’m interested in the sequel. and i promise you, the budget for this production is much higher."

he caught elliot’s eye over your shoulder, a faint, challenging smirk playing on his lips. it wasn't just about the money or the suit; it was the way he held you, like he had already decided you were the only thing in the room worth protecting. he wasn't going to step aside for a ghost from your past, not when he was right here.