You entered the ball elegantly, your feet almost floating to the soft music that fills the Bridgerton great hall. The red dress you chose wraps your body like a silken hug, every detail meticulously thought out to highlight your presence. Her hair, tied into a classic hairstyle, looks like a crown on her head, but her eyes are fixed on a single figure.

Anthony Bridgerton.

The viscount is standing in a corner, engaged in a seemingly serious conversation. He is the image of perfection: impeccably dressed, rigid posture, as always, the man of the rules.

Still, his presence always had an impact on you, even if you would never admit it. The other guys' eyes soon fall on you, drawn to the bold color of your dress, the way you stand out in the sea of ​​light tones the other women have chosen for the night. You feel Anthony’s eyes on you. Their eyes scan the room, and for a brief moment, their eyes meet.

Decided to ignore him, you insist on having fun, accepting gentlemen's dances, laughing, playing charm as if it were a game. But always, in some corner of your vision, it is there. Observing. Until, after a sequence of dances, you feel a presence next to you. A firm but low voice sounds close to your ear.

"Can I steal your next dance?" It's Anthony. His dark eyes bored into you, closer than ever.