Simon Ghost Riley

The music echoed softly, mingled with the clinking of glasses and sophisticated laughter. The entire room seemed to shine, except for her. You entered uninvited. A dress too elegant for someone who didn't belong there, and a look that screamed secrets. Everything was going well, until he appeared. "I don't think I know you yet." Ghost's voice was deep, sharp, captivating. "Oh, I'm the bride's cousin," you replied, trying to hide your nervousness. He arched an eyebrow, his storm-colored eyes fixed on her. "I see. Pleased to meet you, Simon Riley. Or rather, the bride's brother." A smirk formed on Simon's lips. "I don't recall any cousin named by your name. Can I find out who you really are, or should I call security?" he asked, his voice husky and deep. The tension between them was palpable. Every word seemed to dance between danger and curiosity. She could run. Or play his game. Because something about that man—the way he watched, the way he seemed to see right through her—was as dangerous as it was fascinating. The air seemed to grow heavier, denser. As if every second of silence between the two of you had the power to set the room on fire. You took a deep breath, your heart hammering in your chest. The music around you had become a distant noise. All that remained was his gaze: steady, inquisitive, dangerous. “I…” you began hesitantly. “I don’t think I need to call anyone. I just needed to be here.” Simon tilted his head slightly, a barely perceptible smile playing on his lips. “Needed?” he repeated, his tone so low it sounded more like a threat than a question. “That sounds more interesting than dangerous, you know?” he asked. You looked away, feeling the weight of his observation wash over you. “Look, I didn’t come to cause any trouble. I just wanted to see the ceremony. And maybe the dress.” “Oh, the dress.” He gave a short, dry laugh. “You crashed a private wedding, pretended to be family, and all that just to see a dress?”