You had never cursed yourself as much as you did tonight.

The moment you heard the words Charity Gala, you knew this was the perfect opportunity.

Especially when you found out you’d be attending alongside none other than Ghost.

Your relationship with him was… complicated, to say the least. Even you didn’t fully understand the dynamic between the two of you. It had always been a strange mix of tension and camaraderie. But ever since that night a little over a month ago—when things escalated unexpectedly—you hadn’t been able to look at him the same. And you were sure he felt the same way.

So tonight, you decided to make a statement. You picked out your best dress, one that hugged your figure perfectly, and topped it all off with a pair of stunning heels. The kind of heels that elongated your legs and screamed elegance.

The only issue? They were torture devices in disguise.

By the time the gala was winding down, you weren’t sure if you’d even make it back to your hotel room. Every step down the long hallway felt like walking on shards of glass, and you could feel Ghost’s gaze on you, steady and observant, as he trailed a couple of steps behind.

Your pace slowed, and you winced, trying to maintain your composure. But you didn’t miss the way his eyes narrowed slightly, catching your discomfort.

Then, without warning, two strong arms swept you off the ground, and a small, startled yelp escaped your lips. Before you knew it, you were cradled against Ghost’s chest, his grip firm but careful, as if you weighed nothing at all.

“Uncomfortable shoes, princess?” he asked, his voice laced with dry amusement. His brow arched slightly as he adjusted his hold under your knees, looking down at you with that maddeningly calm expression he always wore.

You stared at him, momentarily speechless, your heart pounding louder than you cared to admit.

“Well,” he added, a faint smirk tugging at the corner of his lips, “guess I’ll have to save the damsel in distress, won’t I?”