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<3rd person pov>
On the edge of the dance floor, Theo was in full swing, moving with carefree, tipsy abandon...grinning like a kid, bouncing to the beat, his jacket flaring with every lively spin. Right next to him, attempting to dance (even if it was with an awkwardness that was hard to ignore), was Xavier Fairchild, Theo's notoriously uptight billionaire boss.
His moves were amusingly stiff: shoulders barely budging, hips shifting with the careful precision of someone handling something very fragile, arms hanging uncertainly at his sides. But every now and then, when Theo cheered him on, a shy smile would flicker at the corners of Xavier's mouth.
Miles's jaw dropped. He blinked rapidly, almost as if he needed to reboot. "Is that… Mr. Fairchild?" he asked, his voice pitched high with disbelief. "You know, The CEO?! The guy who probably thinks even smiling breaches company policy?"
Jessie couldn't look away. "Unless Theo hired the world's most expensive lookalike for some elaborate prank, yes, that's definitely him."
Miles leaned forward, head tilted like he was trying to make sense of an optical illusion. "But why is he here? In a club?! Dancing with Theo?! Did we accidentally step into a different reality where having fun is mandatory?!"
Jessie bit her lip, trying not to laugh too loud. "Something very weird is going on. I need the whole story. Like, right now."
Miles squinted harder. "He looks… almost human. It's kind of scary. Do you think Theo spiked his drink?"
"Please," Jessie scoffed. "Theo would apologize to the drink first."
"It's kinda creepy seeing him so happy like that..." Miles said with a frown.
They shared a synchronized look of disbelief, eyebrows shooting up, mouths twisted in the same expression of "what in the actual hell."
Jessie shook her head, a wicked grin breaking through. "Come on, rockstar. We'll interrogate Theo as soon as he's in range. For now, let's pretend we didn't just witness the end of the world."
She pulled Miles back into the rhythm. He complied, but his enthusiasm had waned, with his head swiveling toward Theo and Xavier every few beats like a suspicious owl. Jessie kept stealing glances too, her smile growing more mischievous with each one, already plotting how to question Theo later.
Eventually, Theo caught their eye and offered a sheepish wave that radiated guilt. Jessie responded with an exaggerated thumbs-up and a wink, while Miles clutched his chest dramatically, pretending to faint into her arms.
<1st person pov>
Mr. Fairchild, completely oblivious to the audience, leaned closer to me over the thumping music. "Your friends seem to be having some sort of seizure," he commented dryly.
I erupted in helpless laughter. "They're just shocked to see you here, sir. You're kind of famous for never leaving the office."
Mr. Fairchild huffed, but that fleeting smile appeared again. "I'm starting to regret letting you corrupt me."
"Too late," I declared cheerfully, spinning in a wobbling circle. "You're officially having fun. No takebacks."
Xavier rolled his eyes, but he kept moving—still stiff, still adorably awful, but undeniably dancing.
If you could call it that.
Across the floor, Jessie and Miles resumed dancing, throwing me increasingly dramatic "we are SO talking about this later" looks whenever they could.
Whatever explanation I would eventually come up with was bound to be disappointingly lacking.
A few minutes later, just when I was starting to worry that Xavier's awkward side-to-side shuffle might become permanent, the DJ finally showed mercy. The frantic, heart-pounding beat transitioned to something slow and bluesy—smooth saxophone filling the air, a laid-back drumbeat keeping time.
The kind of song that made the whole club exhale and pair off like it was prom night for grown-ups. Couples around us melted together, the lights dimming to a soft indigo wash that felt almost romantic if you ignored the occasional spilled drink and the guy in the corner doing body shots off his own shoe.
Xavier stopped moving altogether, shoulders dropping as relief washed over his face. He leaned in so I could hear him over the music, his tone low and dry. "Now that we've thoroughly embarrassed ourselves on this dance floor, what's next on your agenda, Theodore? Even more public humiliation?"
I bit my lip to hold back laughter. My brain, still happily swimming in peach-flavored chaos, took a moment to catch up.
Normally, at this point in a night out, I'd be scanning the crowd for the hottest available alpha (or beta, or whoever was giving me good eye contact), flashing my best flirty smile, and within ten minutes, I'd be pressed against a wall somewhere making out like the world was ending at last call.
But this was Xavier Fairchild. My boss. The guy who could ruin my career with a single disapproving email. The man whose cologne was currently doing some illicit things to my omega instincts. Flirting was not an option. Making out felt like a fantasy so far into forbidden territory it needed its own passport.
So I went with the safest, most ridiculous option I could think of.
I turned to him with a huge, probably tipsy grin. "Slow dance, obviously."
He rolled his eyes so hard I was surprised they didn't cramp, but there was a clear relief in that gesture, like I'd finally suggested something he was comfortable with. "Finally," he muttered. "Something I actually understand."
The lights shifted again, bathing everything in deep blues and purples, and couples swayed gently around us. I took a breath, half expecting him to declare the lesson over and call his driver. Instead, I extended my hand with exaggerated gallantry, bowing just a little because the alcohol had evidently appointed me the court jester for the evening.
"Will you dance with me, kind sir?" I asked, laying on the faux-formal tone thick enough to spread on toast.
Xavier gazed at my hand for a moment, one eyebrow lifting in that signature way of his. Then, without warning, he scoffed
...a soft, amused sound I'd never heard from him in two years of working together and completely bypassed my hand.
His palms landed firmly on my waist, fingers curling just enough to pull me closer in one smooth, decisive motion.
I gasped...actually gasped, like some Regency heroine whose corset had just been discovered two sizes too small—and stumbled into him, my hands instinctively flying to his chest for balance. The man was solid. Warm. And apparently done waiting for me to take the lead.
"Of course," he said, his voice low and a little rough, the corner of his mouth twitching upward.
And then we were moving.
Not just swaying actual waltzing. Proper, old-fashioned steps, his posture perfect, one hand steady at the small of my back, the other guiding mine in a classic frame. He led with quiet authority, turning us slowly among the other couples, who were mostly just shuffling. The bluesy melody wrapped around us, saxophone crooning like it approved.
I was so surprised I almost forgot to breathe. Of course Xavier Fairchild could waltz. He probably took lessons in the womb. Meanwhile, I was focusing on not tripping over my own feet or melting into a puddle because his hand was warm through my shirt and his scent...something expensive and woody and irresistibly alpha was everywhere.
Clouding my senses beyond repair.
"You're staring," he murmured, his eyes meeting mine with that familiar dry amusement.
"Can you blame me?" I managed, my voice coming out higher than usual. "I had no idea you could dance. Like, really dance. I thought we'd just… sway awkwardly and call it character building."
"I'm full of surprises," he replied, gently spinning me, so the club blurred for a second before I was back in his arms. "You, on the other hand, are exactly as chaotic as I expected."
I laughed, breathless and helpless. "High praise, sir."
His hand tightened slightly at my waist, pulling me just a little closer as the song dipped into a slower phrase. The lights caught the sharp line of his jaw, the faint flush on his cheeks that might have been the alcohol or the heat or dare I dream—something else. Up close like this, with the music soft and the crowd fading into the background noise, it felt dangerously intimate.
For the record, I could literally die happy right now.
𝔞𝔲𝔱𝔥𝔬𝔯'𝔰 𝔯𝔞𝔪𝔟𝔩𝔦𝔫𝔤𝔰
merry christmas, beauties!!!! 🎄💃🏼❤️