TANGLED WITH MR BLACKWOOD

Royal blue and gold wove through every inch of the ballroom like a whispered promise of legacy. Velvet-draped tables gleamed under cascading chandeliers. Gold-rimmed crystal caught the light like stars. Every corner of the room breathed opulence, precision, Blackwood.

Lexi stood at the center of it all — and for a moment, it felt like the world had paused just to watch her.

Her gown was deep blue silk, sculpted to her frame like it had been made in secret just for this night. Gold threading shimmered down the bodice in quiet constellations. Her hair was swept into a loose knot, strands escaping just enough to soften her sharp elegance. Her skin glowed against the evening light.

People turned when she entered.

But Ethan Blackwood did not move.

He had already been watching.

From the far side of the room, eyes pinned to her like gravity had shifted its loyalty.

She didn't look at him.

She couldn't.

Not after the way he'd pulled away.

Weeks had passed since that kiss — the one that shouldn't have happened but did. It had unraveled her, raw and sudden. It had meant something. To her, at least.

But he'd stepped back.

And never spoke of it again.

Since then, he'd kept his distance. Professional. Silent. Too careful.

And Lexi?

She became perfect.

Unshakably polished. Controlled. Smiling with the exact right wattage. But beneath it all, a quiet ache throbbed where the memory lived.

She didn't ask why he distanced himself.

She just convinced herself not to care.

But tonight?

Tonight made that harder.

From the corners of the ballroom, he watched her float from group to group. Shaking hands. Speaking in that calm, low voice that made people lean in. Every now and then, she laughed — softly, just once — and Ethan's throat would tighten.

He'd always been good at control.

But Lexi Thompson made him feel like he was walking a wire above a fire he couldn't afford to fall into.

Ava approached him once, her gaze sharp.

"She looks powerful tonight," she said simply.

"She is."

"Then why do you look like you're losing your mind?"

He didn't answer.

Because he was.

He had spent the last few weeks convincing himself that she was too soft. That someone like him — ruthless, brutal with his boundaries, trained in silence — would only ruin her.

Lexi wasn't made for cold walls and emotional lockdowns.

She deserved softness in return.

And he… didn't know how to give it.

Lexi stepped out onto the terrace when the air inside grew too loud.

Her hand pressed gently against the railing as she stared out at the city lights below. Her chest rose slowly, the wind teasing the escaped tendrils from her updo. Alone, she didn't have to keep smiling.

She could just… breathe.

Until she felt the shift.

A subtle change in the air behind her.

She didn't have to look.

She knew it was him.

Ethan walked toward her, his footsteps deliberate, like he'd taken this path in his mind a hundred times.

He stopped beside her, just far enough that they didn't touch. His voice was low, and rough with restraint.

"You've barely looked at me tonight."

Lexi's spine straightened. Her fingers curled on the railing.

"You made it clear," she said softly, "that night was a mistake."

His jaw clenched. "It wasn't."

"You never said otherwise."

"I couldn't."

She turned toward him now. "Why?"

His eyes met hers — and for once, they weren't guarded.

"Because you're soft," he said. "And I don't know what to do with soft things. I break them."

Lexi blinked.

The honesty stung more than any silence ever could.

"You don't get to decide how strong I am," she whispered.

Ethan swallowed. "I know."

He took a breath. One he didn't know he'd been holding for weeks.

"I didn't kiss you to scare you. I kissed you because I couldn't stop myself. But after… I realized if I got too close, I'd pull you into a world you don't belong in."

Lexi tilted her head. "You think I haven't lived in chaos before?"

He gave a sad smile. "Not mine."

They stood there — wind, light, city hum all blurring around them.

The pull between them hadn't dulled.

If anything, it had sharpened.

Ethan looked down at her. His voice almost broke.

"Dance with me."

Lexi blinked. "There's no music."

He stepped closer. Just enough for his breath to graze her cheek.

"There doesn't have to be."

Her pulse spiked.

She should've walked away.

But she didn't want to.

She wanted one moment. Just one.

So she gave him her hand.

He pulled her in gently, hand resting at the curve of her waist. Her palm settled over his chest, right above his heart.

It was beating faster than she expected.

They moved slowly, swaying under the city sky like no one else existed.

Ethan didn't look away.

He was drinking her in.

The way her lashes lowered when he held her closer.

The tremble in her breath when he brushed his thumb along her spine.

The softness he'd feared… was undoing him.

"Lexi," he murmured.

She looked up.

His fingers brushed her cheek, tucked a loose curl behind her ear.

"I tried to walk away from you."

"Why?" she whispered.

"Because wanting you scared me."

He exhaled.

"But not wanting you? That's worse."

Her heart fractured. Just a little.

Because he meant it.

And maybe, for now, that was enough.

When the dance ended, they didn't let go immediately.

Their foreheads nearly touched.

Then Lexi stepped back, gently.

"I should get inside."

He nodded, voice rough. "Yeah."

She turned—but paused at the door.

"Don't make me forget this," she said.

He didn't answer right away.

Then softly—

 "I won't. Even if I tried."

She left the terrace.

And for the first time in weeks…

Ethan didn

't feel cold.

He just felt terrified.

Because maybe, just maybe—

he was falling.