The grand ballroom was filled with laughter and the soft hum of conversation, the soft glow of chandeliers casting their light over the elegantly dressed guests. The gala was in full swing, with diplomats, military officers, and dignitaries all mingling and exchanging pleasantries. But as you stood near the entrance, adjusting the strap of your glittering black gown, your attention was immediately drawn to Simon.

He was standing across the room, a cigarette dangling from his fingers as he leaned against a pillar. His dark uniform contrasted sharply with the bright, sparkling surroundings, but somehow, he seemed to fit perfectly into the elegant chaos of the evening. His piercing eyes scanned the crowd, but every so often, they would flicker over to you.

You caught the glances, the subtle way his gaze would meet yours from across the room, and your heart skipped a beat every time. Simon wasn’t one to openly show affection in public, especially not in this environment, but the way his eyes lingered on you told a different story. There was something magnetic about it—something that felt just for you in the midst of all the formalities.

Simon was in the midst of talking to his fellow Task Force 141 soldiers, exchanging jokes with Soap and Price, but his attention wasn’t on them. You could see it, even from a distance—the way his eyes kept coming back to you, studying you like a soldier evaluating the battlefield. But this wasn’t a mission, and you were hardly a target.

With each passing second, you felt the weight of his gaze grow heavier. It wasn’t a look of admiration or desire—it was something deeper, more intimate, as if he were taking in every detail, memorizing it. The way you shifted your weight, the glint of the lights against your gown, the faint smile you tried to suppress as his attention stayed solely on you.

Soap caught on, nudging Simon with a knowing grin. “Mate, you’re staring at her like she’s the last one on Earth,” he teased, though the tone was light.