The music swirled in the background, a gentle waltz, much too serene for the chaos that was about to unfold. Thistle led Elias through the crowd with an ease she didn't feel, her heart pounding in her chest. The tension between them was thick, a volatile thread neither of them dared to acknowledge.
Her strategy had been straightforward—seduce, steal, and disappear into the shadows. But with Elias by her side, everything felt... different. She had anticipated he would be an easy mark, a hurdle she could sidestep with charm. But now, with his jaw set, his gaze tracking her every movement, she felt like she was playing in a game she didn't fully understand.
"Shall we?" she inquired, her voice sweet as honey as she extended her hand toward him.
Elias hesitated for an instant, his eyes narrowing as if weighing the situation. The tension between them stretched taut, and for a moment, Thistle wondered if he might just turn on his heel and arrest her right there, in front of the glittering nobles.
But instead, he took her hand.
"Lead the way, my... distinguished 'gentleman,'" Elias said, his voice thick with suspicion, but with a flicker of something—amusement, maybe?—beneath it.
Thistle's smile remained unfazed as she twirled into the dance, pulling him with her in a waltz far too elegant for what she had in mind. The nobles parted like the Red Sea, allowing the two of them to glide through the ballroom in a slow, graceful rhythm.
Elias was a perfect dancer. His movements were solid, his posture impeccable. It was as if he had been born for this moment—controlled, composed, but somehow... natural. Thistle had always prided herself on being a chameleon, on slipping into any role without hesitation, without being noticed. But this? This wasn't just any performance. It felt like the stakes were higher—too high—and for reasons she couldn't articulate, every step she took felt watched—not by the other dancers, but by him.
"This is your idea of a diversion?" Elias asked, his voice laced with curiosity and, perhaps, a touch of mirth.
Thistle smiled, twirling on an exaggerated spin. "Why, Inspector, you wound me. I'm simply here to appreciate the finer things in life, as I've said."
They danced around each other, their movements synchronized, but with every turn, Thistle could feel the pressure of his eyes, the weight of his gaze prying beneath her carefully constructed disguise. She had come here with one singular purpose: to steal Lady Gildore's jewels, to slip away from the crowd unnoticed, her pockets brimming with riches.
But now? Now the plan seemed secondary to the tension between them.
"Enjoying the finer things, you say," Elias remarked, tightening his grip on her hand just enough for her to notice, a subtle shift in his posture as they came together again. "And what exactly are you searching for here? More than a drink... and perhaps a dance?"
Thistle's heart skipped a beat. She had known this question was coming, but now that it was here, she wasn't sure how to answer without revealing too much.
"Perhaps..." She hesitated, her words more carefully chosen than she'd anticipated. "Perhaps I'm here to remind myself that not everything in life is stolen. Some things are earned. Like this dance."
Elias didn't respond immediately. He studied her intently, his gaze lingering on her a little too long, as if trying to see through the ridiculous layers of her costume, the mask she had so carefully crafted. For a brief, dizzying second, she wondered if he could see her beneath all the pretense—the woman she was, not the man she was pretending to be.
"That's an interesting perspective," Elias said at last, his voice low but steady, and yet filled with something that made Thistle's chest tighten.
They continued to move through the dance, but the lightness had gone out of it. Thistle's thoughts were racing now, too fast for her feet to keep up. She had come here with one purpose: to steal, to vanish with the jewels. But now? Now she couldn't seem to think about anything other than him.
A subtle tug in her pocket reminded her of the gems nestled against her side, a constant weight pressing against her skin. The reminder was jarring, like a slap to the face, but necessary. She couldn't afford to forget why she was here. Not with the stakes so high.
But as they spun, as their feet moved in perfect sync, Thistle's mind wandered—not to the jewels, or the plan, or even the escape route she had mapped out—but to Elias.
Why did he unsettle her so? Why did everything seem so much more complicated when he was near?
Before she could answer herself, the dance took an unexpected turn. Elias broke the flow, spinning her towards him with such force that her breath caught in her throat, her heart leaping into her throat.
"Let's get one thing straight, my 'gentleman,'" Elias said, his voice a low murmur as he pulled her close, his body hard against hers. "I don't think for a second that you're here for a waltz. You may have arrived to dance, but I know you came to steal."
For an instant, everything seemed to freeze. Thistle stood still, caught off guard by the sudden intensity in his voice, the weight of his gaze pinning her in place. The ballroom, the music, the other dancers—everything fell away as she felt the pressure of his words.
Her smile, however, didn't falter. "Inspector," she said, trying to regain her composure, her voice dripping with false bravado. "You must be mistaken. What would a gentleman such as myself want with a few jewels when I could have... so much more?"
Elias didn't budge. His eyes never left hers, his grip tightening slightly as he leaned in, his lips nearly brushing her ear. "The question, Thistle," he murmured, his voice sending a shiver down her spine, "is not what you desire. It's what I'll permit you to have."
Her heart skipped again, the words like a warning, a promise, or perhaps something else entirely. Thistle's chest tightened as she wondered what the hell that was supposed to mean.
Before she could ask, before she could say anything, the sound of approaching footsteps broke the moment. Thistle jerked back slightly, shaking herself out of the daze she'd slipped into. Without missing a beat, she flashed Elias one last dazzling smile, now tinged with urgency.
"Well, Inspector," she said softly, her voice quieter now, dangerous, "I believe you've made your move. Now it's my turn."
And before he could react, she slipped away into the crowd, leaving him standing there, his eyes locked on her retreating figure.
In her pocket, the jewels pressed against her side like a sharp reminder of the game she was playing. And this time, the stakes were higher than ever.