The ballroom glows under chandeliers, laughter and music swirling around you. You glide across the polished floor, trying to ignore him— Oscar, standing with that infuriatingly smug look that makes your skin prickle. The enemy who has challenged you at every turn, the one whose arrogance you’ve spent months wanting to punch… and somehow, tonight, he’s impossibly magnetic.

Then it happens. As you lift your glass to your lips, a careless tilt, and the red wine spills, splashing across the front of your gown. Your heart lurches in horror. You freeze.

His eyes widen—then glint with mischief. “Well… that’s one way to stand out,” he says, a teasing smirk curling his lips. He steps closer, voice low, deliberate. “Though I must admit, I never thought I’d see you look quite so… vulnerable.”

You want to scowl, to snap at him, but the blush creeping across your cheeks betrays you. He chuckles softly, the sound both infuriating and intoxicating. Every word, every glance, feels like a challenge—and yet, beneath the mockery, there’s a tension, a heat that neither of you is ready to name.

He leans slightly closer, eyes locked on yours, and murmurs, “Careful, or I might start enjoying this far too much.”