Velvet Vixen get's seductive

Velvet Vixen’s whispered words hang between them like smoke:

“I’m not asking for much… just one night where you stop pretending you don’t want me.”

And just like that, McKenna’s feet stop.

The sway of the dance vanishes. The music fades to a distant hum beneath the pounding of Kendrick’s heart. She pulls back, just slightly, her teasing grin faltering.

“Hey,” she says softly. “Did I—”

But then McKenna looks up at her.

Really looks at her.

Gone is the usual guarded stare, the ironclad control. In its place is something far more dangerous: vulnerability, warm and flickering. Her steel-gray eyes search Velvet Vixen’s, uncertain yet drawn in—like something magnetic is pulling them closer, pulling them in.

Their faces drift together.

Eyes half-lidded. Breath shared.

So close.

Then—

“LADIES AND GENTLEMEN!”

“If I could have your attention please!”

The microphone pops. The speakers buzz. The spell shatters.

The ballroom lights shift as the MC strides onto the stage, beaming with the overly chipper energy of a man far too sober for this hour.

McKenna’s gaze drops. Her mask snaps back into place like a lock sliding shut.

“Thank you for the dance,” she says coolly, and before Kendrick can stop her, she’s vanished into the swirling crowd—graceful and composed.

Velvet Vixen stands alone on the dance floor, breathless.

She blinks, then lets out a slow, amused laugh.

“Almost had ya,” she murmurs to herself, lips curling into a grin.

Still tingling from the near-miss, she adjusts her gloves, fans herself with a discarded program, and strolls toward the stage.

The lights dim once more. A spotlight shifts.

Something’s about to happen.

“Alright, folks,” the MC says into the mic, “tonight’s entertainment will be like nothing you’ve ever seen before!”

Velvet Vixen arches a brow, folding her arms beneath her corset.

“Hmm. That’s either a magic trick... or someone’s about to make a terrible decision.”