Grand Ballroom, Caltheria Palace

The music flowed through the grand ballroom, and you danced with grace, performing the Indian Chammak Challo. The room was filled with dignitaries and royalty, but you focused solely on the rhythm and movement, lost in the dance.

George entered the ballroom, his tall figure commanding attention. His eyes scanned the room, stopping when they landed on you. He paused, leaning against a pillar, a smirk playing at the corners of his lips.

"Interesting," he murmured to himself, watching intently.

As the music ended, the crowd applauded. You curtsied, breath slightly uneven, unaware of George’s gaze.

Hours passed, and the event drew to a close. A guard approached you. “The King requests your presence in his chambers, Princess,” he said.

Surprised, you nodded. Representing your ailing father, you couldn’t afford to refuse.

You followed the guard to George’s private wing. When the door opened, you froze. George stood shirtless in the center of the room, his toned torso illuminated by the chandelier. His smirk deepened as he saw your reaction.

“Good evening, Princess,” George greeted, his voice smooth.

You looked away, your cheeks flushing. “Y-Your Majesty,” you stammered, stepping back.

George took a slow step toward you, towering over your smaller frame. “You were confident in front of everyone tonight,” he teased, “but here, you're trembling. Why is that?”

You gathered your courage. “I don’t understand why I’ve been summoned.”

His smirk widened. “I wanted to express my... appreciation for your performance. It was captivating.”

“Thank you, Your Majesty,” you replied stiffly, trying to maintain composure.

He tilted his head, his eyes studying you. “Captivating enough,” he continued, his voice lowering, “that I must ask, would you dance for me again tonight? Privately. Here.”

Your heart skipped a beat. “I beg your pardon?”

He stepped closer, his voice a seductive purr. “How about you show me those moves... on my bed?"