Chapter 242: The Dance

The man in the mask slowly raised both hands in surrender.

"Fine. You win. I concede defeat."

A few nervous chuckles rippled through the ballroom.

Then, just when everyone thought the bidding war was over, he added casually,

"But I’ll bid one million for the second dance."

Everyone was silent.

For several seconds, no one seemed to remember how to breathe.

The host stared at the masked man, his mouth slightly open. Even he seemed stunned by the sudden escalation.

"One... million?"

The masked man merely nodded.

The host quickly recovered, his professional smile returning as excitement flashed across his face.

"Wow! Miss Lancey certainly is the most sought-after woman tonight!" he announced. "We have one million for the second dance!"

A wave of murmurs swept through the ballroom.

"One million..."

"For a second dance? This is my first time hearing someone bidding for a second dance."

"Who is that man?"

"Is he some billionaire?"

"Why is he so determined to dance with Miss Lancey?"

Kristoff’s jaw tightened.

His eyes remained fixed on the masked man.

He wanted to object.

More than that, he wanted to walk onto the stage, take Isobel by the hand, and make it very clear that no one else was going to have her for the rest of the evening.

He wanted to monopolize every dance she had.

But he forced himself to remain where he stood.

This was a charity event.

Every bid meant more money for charity. If someone was willing to pay one million just for a dance, stopping him would defeat the purpose of the evening.

Still, Kristoff’s expression darkened.

One million for a dance with Isobel?

His fingers curled slightly at his sides.

Meanwhile, Selene stared at the masked man as if she couldn’t believe what she was seeing.

Her eyes widened.

Earlier, when she had taken the stage, the bidding for her had reached five hundred thousand.

At least, that was what everyone believed.

The truth was far less flattering.

The highest genuine bid for her had been only two hundred thousand. Knowing she was the mayor’s daughter, Selene had quietly arranged for someone to keep bidding until the amount reached five hundred thousand.

She wanted everyone to believe she was worth that much.

And it worked.

For a while, she had stood there with a proud smile, basking in the attention.

Half a million for a dance. It was the highest bid of the night.

She had felt like the undisputed star of the charity ball.

Until Isobel stepped onto the stage. Then everything had changed.

The bids had climbed past five hundred thousand.

Six hundred thousand.

And then—

One million.

For Isobel’s second dance.

Selene’s smile completely vanished.

She stared at Isobel, who stood beneath the dazzling chandelier lights, seemingly oblivious to the storm of attention surrounding her.

How could this be?

Why were men fighting over a dance with her?

Selene slowly looked down at herself.

Her gown was exquisite. Her jewelry had been specially selected for the evening. Every detail of her appearance had been carefully planned.

She spent hours making sure she looked more elegant, more glamorous, more worthy of attention than anyone else in the ballroom.

Especially Isobel.

Yet somehow, the moment Isobel appeared on that stage, everyone had forgotten about her.

And now a mysterious man in a mask had just offered one million for another dance with Isobel.

Selene’s nails dug into her palm.

Who is that man?

More importantly—

Why Isobel?

What did that woman have that she didn’t?

Selene’s gaze hardened as jealousy slowly replaced her disbelief.

For the first time that evening, she realized something that made her stomach twist.

It wasn’t that Isobel had tried to steal the spotlight.

She hadn’t needed to.

The spotlight had simply followed her.

...

As the winning bid, Kristoff and Isobel were given the privilege with opening the dance floor.

The ballroom gradually fell silent as the other guests stepped aside, leaving the polished floor beneath the chandeliers completely empty.

The music changed.

A slow, haunting tango filled the room.

Isobel looked at Kristoff.

"Do you know tango?"

"Yes," she replied. "I learned it in college."

A faint smile tugged at the corner of Kristoff’s mouth.

"Then follow me."

Before she could respond, his hand settled firmly around her waist.

The sudden contact sent a small shiver through her.

His other hand closed around hers, their fingers interlocking as he drew her closer. The distance between them disappeared until she could feel the warmth of his body through the thin fabric of her gown.

Isobel lifted her chin.

"That’s rather close."

"It’s tango."

His voice was low, almost amused.

"Or are you nervous?"

She narrowed her eyes.

"About dancing with you? Not at all."

"Good."

The first beat struck.

Kristoff moved. It was smooth and confident.

Isobel barely had time to register the movement before he guided her into the first step. Her heels glided across the floor as he led her backward, his hand at her waist directing every turn with effortless precision.

She followed. One step, then another.

Then a sharp turn.

Her skirt swept across the floor like the ocean wave.

The ballroom disappeared around them.

Hundreds of people still watched, but Isobel could no longer hear their whispers. Her attention had narrowed to the man in front of her—the pressure of his hand, the subtle shift of his shoulders, and the intensity in his eyes.

Kristoff danced as though he had been waiting for this moment.

His movements were controlled but commanding, each step precise enough to make her feel as though he could predict her next movement before she made it.

Isobel tried to take the lead for a moment.

Kristoff immediately countered.

He pulled her toward him, their bodies nearly colliding before he turned her sharply to the side.

Her breath caught. He caught her before she lost her balance.

Their faces were suddenly inches apart.

For one suspended moment, neither moved.

The music continued around them.

Kristoff’s gaze dropped briefly to her lips before returning to her eyes.

"How come I didn’t realize before you’re good at dancing?" he murmured.

Isobel almost laughed.

"You never asked."

"I know."

He spun her away.

Isobel’s gown flared dramatically as she turned beneath his arm. Her hair swept across her shoulder before Kristoff caught her again, pulling her back into his embrace with a fluidity that made the movement look effortless.

The crowd watched in fascination.

There was something different about the way they danced.

It wasn’t merely graceful.

It was intimate.

Every movement seemed to carry a silent conversation between them.

Like a challenge. A retreat. A surrender.

Kristoff’s hand tightened slightly around her waist.

Isobel felt it. She looked up at him.

His expression had changed.

The playful confidence was gone.

There was something darker in his eyes now.

Something possessive.