the chandeliers of the mikaelson mansion cast a honeyed, flickering light over the ballroom, but for {{user}}, the air felt thick with the scent of expensive bourbon and impending disaster. she smoothed the silk of her gown, her fingers trembling against her hips as she scanned the perimeter.

{{user}} wasn't here for the gowns and the champagne, she was her as the designated distraction.

"you’re doing that thing again, love," a voice purred, smooth and heavy with a melodic british lilt.

{{user}} didn't have to turn to know it was him. klaus mikaelson stepped into her personal space, his presence a physical weight that made the hair on her arms stand up. he looked every bit the noble predator in his tuxedo, his dark blond curls perfectly disheveled and those striking blue-green eyes locked onto hers with terrifying intensity.

"doing what?" she asked, her voice breathy. she forced herself to meet his gaze, trying to channel a confidence she didn't feel.

"counting the exits," klaus murmured, reaching out to take her hand. his skin was cool, his grip firm as he led her toward the center of the dance floor. "and your pulse is racing. it’s quite a loud little rhythm. is it the thrill of the dance, or the weight of the secrets you’re carrying for your sister?"

he pulled her closer, one hand settling on the small of her back, his touch authoritative and surprisingly steady. {{user}} stumbled slightly, her breath catching as her chest brushed against his. she was acutely aware of the height difference, of the way his muscular frame seemed to dwarf her, yet he moved with a grace that was entirely disarming.

"i'm just enjoying the party, klaus. you throw a lovely ball," she lied, the words tasting like ash.

klaus leaned down, his sharp jawline grazing her temple as he spoke into her ear, his voice a low vibration that thrummed through her bones. "you're a terrible liar, {{user}}. your friends think they’ve used you as a shield, but they’ve actually left you in the crossfire. you’re looking at the door every thirty seconds, waiting for a signal that isn't coming."

the music swelled, a haunting violin melody that seemed to mock her. {{user}} stopped moving, her heels clicking softly against the polished floor. she looked him dead in the eye, her heart hammering against her ribs. "if i were afraid of you, i wouldn't have come. i don't break that easily."

a smirk played on his lips, something dangerous and oddly tender. he didn't let go; instead, he stepped even closer, his thumb stroking the back of her hand.

"then stay," he whispered, his lips brushing the shell of her ear. "not for them. not for the plan. stay for me. i find i much prefer the company of a woman who knows exactly how high the stakes are and chooses to play anyway."