Chapter 6
828 Words
Chapter 6: The Crack in the Wall
Maison Sauveur | After-Hours | Studio 4 Balcony
It was past midnight when Feliz found herself drifting through the now-empty halls of Maison Sauveur.
Restless.
Haunted.
The afterparty had faded into ghostly echoes—just distant laughter and muffled footsteps lingering like perfume on the air. The showroom lights had been dimmed, and the mannequins stood like silent witnesses, draped in silk and secrets.
She should’ve gone home.
But the thought of her quiet apartment, the loneliness pressing against those walls—
it was too loud.
So she wandered.
In heels that clicked against polished marble.
In a gown she hadn’t bothered to change out of.
With thoughts she couldn’t silence.
And then—
she turned a corner and stopped.
There he was.
Sly.
Leaning against the railing of the Studio 4 balcony, the soft city lights painting him in gold. His blazer was gone, shirt sleeves rolled up, a few buttons undone, collar loose like a man too comfortable with temptation.
He looked like trouble with good taste.
Feliz stayed hidden for a breath.
Then another.
But her feet had already betrayed her, moving closer before her mind could stop them.
He didn’t look surprised when he saw her.
Maybe he had sensed her all along.
Maybe he’d been waiting.
Sly [voice low, amused]
“Maison's muse out after hours? Should I be honored or concerned?”
Feliz [coolly]
“Could say the same about you.”
Sly [tilting his head]
“Touché.”
The tension between them crackled like static.
And then—
he moved.
Not toward her.
But to the small control panel by the balcony speaker.
Soft music spilled into the air.
A slow, sultry jazz track.
He looked back at her.
Sly [mocking, darkly playful]
“Care to dance?”
She snorted. “With you?”
Sly [smirking]
“Scared you’ll like it?”
She rolled her eyes, but her heart stuttered. She hated that he could read her so easily.
Still, she stepped forward.
Slowly.
Deliberately.
She didn’t know what compelled her—
only that something inside her was unraveling.
Feliz [dryly]
“If I step on your foot, you deserve it.”
Sly [grinning]
“I’ll take the pain. Worth it.”
He held out his hand.
And to her own shock—
she took it.
Their fingers locked.
He pulled her closer.
Too close.
His other hand settled lightly on her lower back, and her breath hitched.
They moved.
Slowly at first.
A languid, teasing sway that felt more like foreplay than a dance. The music curled around them like smoke.
She hated how natural it felt.
How their bodies seemed to fit.
Feliz [under her breath]
“This is a bad idea.”
Sly [quietly]
“Best ones usually are.”
He twirled her suddenly, and she gasped—landing back in his arms, her palm flat against his chest.
His heart thundered beneath her touch.
She looked up at him.
The mask he usually wore—the arrogance, the teasing—was gone.
All that was left was heat.
And want.
Sly [gruffly]
“You keep pushing me away, but every time I’m near you... I know you feel it too.”
Feliz [angrily, trying to break the spell]
“You don’t know anything about me.”
Sly [eyes narrowing]
“I know you lie to yourself better than anyone.”
Her hand tensed in his.
Feliz [furious now]
“You think because you saw me cry once—”
Sly
“—Because I see you every goddamn day pretending nothing gets to you.”
He stepped forward, crowding her.
Her back hit the balcony wall.
No escape.
Just him.
And her.
And the fire burning between them.
Sly [voice low, raw]
“I don’t want perfect, Feliz. I want real. I want you.”
Her breath hitched.
The air shifted.
His hand moved—tracing the curve of her jaw, sliding behind her neck.
Their foreheads touched.
Sly [whispering]
“One word... and I’ll stop.”
Feliz’s eyes fluttered closed.
She didn’t say it.
Couldn’t.
And then—
His lips hovered over hers.
Not a kiss.
Not quite.
Just heat.
And promise.
And danger.
Her hands clenched the lapels of his shirt, grounding herself.
Feliz [a broken whisper]
“This is a mistake...”
Sly [gaze burning]
“Then why does it feel like the only thing that’s ever made sense?”
He tilted his head, lips brushing hers—barely there.
Almost.
“Sly!”
The shout cracked the moment wide open.
A female voice. Somewhere inside the studio.
They froze.
Feliz yanked away like she’d been slapped, her chest rising and falling with uneven breath.
Sly’s jaw clenched, eyes closing for a heartbeat before he turned toward the interruption.
Sly [voice tight]
“Duty calls.”
He didn’t look at her again.
Didn’t say goodbye.
Just walked off, the shadows swallowing him.
Feliz stood there, shaken.
Burning.
- Writer
