đđđ˘đĽđ˘đđĄ
The ballroom was vast and empty when I arrived, my footsteps echoing against polished floors that gleamed like black ice. Tall windows lined one side, offering a view of winter gardens painted in moonlight and shadow. But what caught my attention was the grand piano near the far wall, its dark wood gleaming with quiet elegance.
Vladimir stood beside it, one hand resting on the polished surface. He'd changed since the hallwayâwhite shirt with sleeves rolled to his elbows, dark trousers. Somehow he looked less like the High Alpha and more like something dangerous wearing a gentleman's skin.
His pale eyes found mine the moment I entered. The bond pulled tight between us, that ever-present ache as familiar as my own heartbeat.
"What dance are we learning?" I asked, my voice too loud in the cavernous space. "I should probably know what I'm preparing for."
"Dance first," Vladimir said, moving to the piano bench. "We'll worry about specific steps later."
