'Scarlett's Fear'

"What are you doing here, Lady Scarlett?"

Scarlett visibly flinched at Florian's voice, snapping out of whatever thoughts had consumed her. For a moment, she looked disoriented—like she had been dragged back into reality too suddenly. Normally, the second she laid eyes on him, she'd have something sharp to say. An insult, a scoff, or at the very least, an exasperated sigh.

But this time, she did none of that.

Instead, she cast a quick glance around the ballroom, as if checking for eavesdroppers, before grabbing Florian's wrist and pulling him aside.

Florian blinked. 'Now, this is new.'

"Where are we going?" he asked, though he didn't resist.

Scarlett didn't answer, her grip firm as she weaved through the thinning crowd. Only when they reached a secluded corner of the ballroom—far from the prying eyes of nobles and the ever-watchful servants—did she release his wrist.

For the first time, Florian got a good look at her.