The hallways are empty, but the chandeliers cast flickering patterns across the walls, making shadows that twist and dance along with you. James’ gloved hand finds yours before you can react, pulling you forward with a confidence that leaves no room to refuse.

He spins you once, then twice, laughter echoing—light, cultured, and utterly unnerving—bouncing off the marble and mirrors. Your stomach flips, a mix of thrill and fear, because every movement he commands is precise, measured… his.

“Don’t fight it,” he murmurs, voice low and silk-smooth, letting the words brush your ear. “The night belongs to us… to me.”

He twirls you again, closer this time, chest brushing against yours just enough to make you aware of his presence, aware of his control. The shadows stretch long, intertwining with yours, and for a moment, the world narrows down to the two of you, caught in a dangerous, intoxicating rhythm.

James’ eyes flash with that same predatory gleam you’ve learned to recognize—danger, amusement, and desire all at once. And somehow, despite every warning, you don’t want to step away.

“Good,” he says, voice almost a purr, “you’re learning beautifully.”