Dancing With Disaster

The night of the gala arrived faster than Elisa was prepared for. She stood in her lavish bedroom—well, Miss Taylor's bedroom—staring at the gown laid out on the bed. It was a deep crimson dress with a plunging neckline and enough sequins to blind someone.

“Subtle,” she muttered. “Of course, the heroine would wear something like this.”

She sighed and slipped into the dress, trying not to think too hard about how the real heroine of this story—if this were still her novel—would be dazzling Ethan Carter on the dance floor by now.

Except now she was the heroine. And that thought was terrifying.

---

The ballroom was stunning, all glittering chandeliers and polished marble floors. Guests mingled, sipping champagne and laughing as soft classical music played in the background. Elisa felt like she had stepped into a fairy tale.

“Miss Taylor,” a smooth voice said behind her.

She turned to see Ethan, looking every bit the powerful CEO in his tailored black tuxedo. He extended his arm. “Shall we?”

“Shall we… what?” she asked, panic rising.

He quirked an eyebrow. “Dance, of course. Or did you think I brought you here to stand in a corner all night?”

Elisa hesitated. She wasn’t much of a dancer, and the thought of being that close to him—under the scrutiny of a hundred watchful eyes—was nerve-wracking. But refusing wasn’t an option.

She placed her hand in his, and he led her onto the dance floor. The other couples parted, giving them the center spotlight.

“I hope you know what you’re doing,” Ethan murmured as he pulled her close.

I hope I do, too, Elisa thought, swallowing hard.

---

The music swelled, and they began to move. To her surprise, Ethan was an exceptional dancer, guiding her effortlessly across the floor. Elisa tried her best to follow his lead, but every step felt clumsy compared to his grace.

“You’re stiff,” he said, his voice low enough that only she could hear.

“Well, maybe that’s because I’m not used to dancing with intimidating CEOs,” she shot back, narrowing her eyes at him.

A flicker of amusement crossed his face. “Intimidating? That’s an interesting choice of words.”

“You’re not exactly warm and fuzzy,” she replied before she could stop herself.

To her surprise, Ethan chuckled—a soft, genuine laugh that made her heart skip a beat.

“You have a sharp tongue, Miss Taylor,” he said. “I’ll admit, I didn’t expect that from you.”

Elisa blinked, caught off guard. Was that… a compliment?

Before she could respond, the music slowed, and Ethan’s gaze locked onto hers. For a moment, the world around them seemed to fade, leaving only the two of them on the dance floor.

Her pulse quickened. This was exactly the kind of moment she would’ve written into her novel—a slow, tension-filled scene where the heroine and hero couldn’t look away from each other.

But this wasn’t fiction anymore. And that made it all the more dangerous.

---

As the dance ended, the crowd erupted into polite applause. Ethan released her, his expression unreadable.

“Good work,” he said simply, before turning and disappearing into the crowd.

Elisa stood there, her heart still racing. She didn’t know what was more unsettling—the fact that she had survived the dance without tripping… or the fact that, for a brief moment, she had felt like she truly belonged in this world.

No, she reminded herself. This isn’t real. None of this is real.

But as she glanced around the glittering ballroom, she couldn’t shake the feeling that reality had a mind of its own.

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