Scarlet love

The gentle patter of rain echoed through the glass walls surrounding Maxwell Montgomery as he gazed out over the city skyline. Towering steel and concrete giants stretched as far as the eye could see, glittering lights beginning to illuminate the dreary dusk. Somewhere beyond the murky horizon lay the homes people returned to at the end of each day, seeking respite from the pressures of the world outside. For Maxwell, the concept of home remained an ephemeral one. This top-floor penthouse office had become as much a refuge as any luxurious abode ever could in recent years, shielding him from judging eyes and expectations that constantly tugged at his sleeves. Even solace proved fleeting on nights like these, however, when smothering loneliness seeped into the walls no matter how lavishly they were decorated. Shaking off melancholic musings, he turned from the window and paid last-minute adjustments to his tie and cuffs. Another insufferable networking function awaited down below, obliging smiles and platitudes on repeat until societal obligations were fulfilled for the evening. A final glance in the mirror showcased the polished veneer of the Montgomery scion - heir to a legacy built on the backs of countless nameless workers now solely his responsibility to uphold. With a resigned sigh, Maxwell donned his well-practiced mask of ease and descended towards the gleaming ballroom in search of familiar faces or potential allies to bend an ear. Entering the grand double doors, a wash of chatter and jazz enveloped him as expected amidst ornate chandeliers and marble columns. Glasses clinked together in gleeful toasts while ostentatious gowns and tailored suits swirled around the polished floors like ornate jewels on display. Wading into the throng with a flute of champagne, Maxwell lost himself in superficial small talk and backslapping as expected. Yet even fulfilling his social duties held little appeal this damp evening, soul aching for a companion with whom he didn't need to put forth constant effort. Gaze drifting over smirking visages, one stormy pair of viridian eyes caught his attention from across the room. Nested amongst intricately braided coils the shade of fresh ink, an inquisitive face peered back at him from beneath long lashes. Full lips pressed tightly in what seemed discomfort rather than delight, slender frame hugging the perimeter as if hoping to blend into the ornate wallpaper unseen. Though professionally attired, this observer appeared as out of place amidst preening peacocks as he secretly felt inside. Compelled by curiosity more than duty, Maxwell excused himself from a droning conversation and began weaving between parties towards the intriguing spectator. Upon approach, rich umber skin glowed warmly under recessed lighting while delicate brows arched in guarded question. His breath caught at her unexpected beauty enfolded in poise, sensing a kindred spirit of composure beneath perceptive eyes holding answers yet unknown. "It seems we both find ourselves observing this spectacle from the sidelines this evening," Maxwell offered with a gentle smile, inclining his flute towards her in invitation. "Might I persuade you to join me in evaluating our peers from a more entertaining vantage point on the dance floor?" A flicker of surprise crossed her visage before carefully polite curiosity took hold. "I appreciate the offer, Mr. Montgomery, but am not one for mingling as you well know. My place is amongst the fringes ensuring everything runs smoothly so esteemed guests such as yourself can enjoy the festivities." Arching a brow in intrigue, he replied, "And here I thought attending meant suffering tedious small talk together, not exchanging professional titles. Please, call me Maxwell." Extending a hand, he added hopefully, "A dance may prove a welcome respite for us both, Avery, without obligations or rumors attached. At least allow me to thank you properly for your efforts this evening." Her gaze roamed his face searchingly as if decoding hidden motives before softly placing her hand in his own. "Very well, Maxwell. One dance cannot hurt." Leading Avery onto the gleaming floor, Maxwell let the music's sway overtake his rigid posture and swept her into his embrace. Lost in the rhythm and each other's company, wearisome facades melted away to reveal souls seeking solace on this chance encounter amidst the storm.