And So…

Time: 5:12 PM

Date: 25 December 2027

Location: Gavin Mansion

Ema tried hard not to fidget as she passed the security guards (who, to her surprise, had allowed her easy entry) and stopped at the door. With a deep breath, she raised a hand to the knocker but there was a noise inside that stopped her and before she knew it, the door had swung open and Klavier Gavin stood there.

Lips parted, possibly in greeting, but no words came out. His eyes swept the length of her before coming back to her face with stunned appreciation.

"Fräulein," he murmured, taking her hand and raising it to his lips. "You are breathtaking."

Ema ducked her head to hide her blush, blessing Lana for leaving her hair open. "Thank you," she said quietly. "Merry Christmas."

"Merry Christmas indeed," he said softly.

Klavier drew her in over the threshold and closed the door behind them. Ema kept her gaze determinedly from meeting his, which didn't prove to be all that difficult. The high ceiling of the entrance hall, the balconies overhead and the winding staircases were enough to occupy her. The floor accepted her heels with soft clatters which echoed dauntingly in the vastness of her surroundings.

It wasn't until Klavier placed a hand on her back to guide her through an archway that Ema remembered he was still holding her hand.

"Why did you ask me to come early?" she asked, needing to focus on something other than their skin contact. She didn't want to land herself in a situation like this again because she broke his fingers...

"To allow you to get used to the surroundings," he answered smoothly. "Come, I will show you the rest of the place."

"What—?"

Her voice died in her throat. Klavier had led her into a room so big, her apartment could have fit into it twice over. The ceiling was high and magnificent, decorated with an extravagant chandelier that, she had no doubt, would have lit up an entire city. Looking around at the lacquered wood, the inordinate furnishings and the shimmering designs, Ema suddenly felt not-so-fancy in her gown.

And very, very insignificant.

For the next 45 minutes that Klavier showed her his home, she was quiet, listening to all of his explanations and stories. The home belonged to his parents but he was set to inherit it all (now that Kristoph was in prison, she gathered) and they'd allowed him to host his party here. When Ema became somewhat panicked at the possibility that she'd have to meet Mr and Mrs Gavin, he laughed and reassured her they were out of the country.

The place was nothing like she had expected it to be; the idea of Klavier living here was alien to her. It wasn't because it was too ostentatious, she thought eyeing the library he'd led her into, but simply because the antique feeling just didn't suit his modern-rock image.

When he led her to the music room (which looked nothing like the rest of the house), she embarrassed herself by exclaiming "this is more like it!" much to Klavier's amusement. He explained to her that his parents were German aristocrats who had followed their sons to the States out of a desire to be close to them and because they couldn't stand to leave their beloved home behind, had had it moved over, brick by brick.

To her immense surprise, Ema found herself intently listening to his stories, how he and Daryan had argued in the music room once and in order to drown out each other's voices, had begun to blast music from every instrument available (given that it was filled with guitars, keyboards, drums, violins and a grand piano, she could only imagine the chaos that must have ensued). Klavier laughingly told her that was when his parents had had it soundproofed.

The ballroom was, in one word, beautiful. As soon as she entered it, she felt enveloped by glamour: in the centre stood the biggest and most beautifully decorated Christmas tree she'd ever seen, bathed in it's very own blue light from above. The lights delicately entwined into it's branches twinkled magically like little stars, lighting up the adornments. With the dark blue light of the room and the silver sparkle of the lights, Ema was reminded of a clear, star-studded night.

"Klavier..." she breathed, unable to take her eyes off it. "It's beautiful!"

"I am glad you approve."

She stood there a while longer, drinking in the sight until Klavier gently led her away again, promising her they would return. When she stopped at the doors to look back once more. Klavier chuckled, promising to give it to her as a present afterwards.

By the time they were in the solarium, Ema had completely forgotten about the almost-kiss, the slap, her gown, her— well, basically everything that could make her uncomfortable. Of course, then he had to go and point at the pool (which, Ema could admit, looked deliciously inviting) and ask her if she wanted to go for a dip.

"We have some time," he said with a suggestive raise of the eyebrow.

Ema gaped. "W-What?"

He can't be serious!

"I assure you, I am very serious."

Wait! HOW DID HE KNOW WHAT I WAS THINKING?

Klavier smiled at her knowingly. "I almost always know what you are thinking."

She didn't quite know what happened: the moment he said those words, her body jerked involuntarily and she stumbled. For a split second, she simply knew she was going to fall into the pool.

But she didn't.

"Ah, ah," she heard his voice at her ear as his arms grabbed and slowly steadied her. "Not until I have had the pleasure of showing you off to the rest of the world."

As if on cue, a bell rang in the distance.

"I believe that is the first of our guests," he said, looking down at her.

Ema was torn between curiosity (when the HELL had she become an open book?) and embarrassment (great, just what every girl needed — to trip in front of a rock-star).

Klavier pulled her further towards the door, pausing to lift her hands (how did he manage to make her forget he was touching her?) and surveyed her appreciatively.

"Tonight, I am the luckiest man alive."

Ema blushed, looking away, wishing she had something more to say than, "Thank you for the dress."

Klavier inclined his head. "It was made for you." He paused as if a thought had occurred to him. "How do I look?"

Her eyes widened at his question (was he really asking her for an opinion?) but she was already examining him.

Dear God. How had she failed to notice his attire?

Ema had never seen anything look so good on any man. It was more than just a tux — to her mind, they were stuffy and overrated.

No, what he was wearing exuded class and charm: the purple of his jacket matched her dress perfectly (something she knew was intentional but found she didn't mind). It hugged his powerful frame, making his shoulders look broader than she had ever thought them. Beneath it, he wore a white shirt but there wasn't a bow or tie in place. In fact, even his necklace (if you could call that monstrosity a necklace) was nowhere to be seen. Instead, the casual collar of the shirt was coloured black, the dark strip running down the length of the middle in what was no doubt meant to be a shadow of a tie. It disappeared into the buttoned 'v' of his jacket, just above the pants, which were nowhere near as tight as his usual ones but just enough to hint at his perfectly proportioned legs. Underneath the jacket, she caught a hint of his belt and might have rolled her eyes if... if...

If he didn't look so perfect that she was stunned into silence. Even her inner voice was at a loss for words. When she looked up to give him some sort of reassurance that he looked fine, Klavier was smiling at her.

"No matter, Fräulein," he murmured, taking her arm and wrapping it around his. "I can see the answer in your eyes."

.'.

Time: 9:21 PM

Date: 25 December 2027

Location: Klavier's side

Dancing was not her talent. Ema had known that for a long, long time. So, when all of the guests had finally arrived and filled the ballroom, Ema found it relatively easy to hide among the throngs of people. There were dancers, talkers and some who just stood still, haughtily looking down on others or else admiring the Christmas tree.

She didn't know them. In fact, she didn't know a lot of people — apparently, Klavier had invited more than just the Prosecutor's office and Criminal Affairs. At one point, when Klavier and Ema had welcomed Samuel Jenkins (the new Nickel Samurai), she had caught a glimpse of the flashing cameras outside.

This was turning into the party of the year and somehow, she knew Klavier had invited her earlier to spare her the horror of having to deal with the press. She would have to thank h—

THANK HIM? He forced me to come here! If it wasn't for him, I'd be at home in my bed, not running around here in my 100 inch heels trying to escape Klavier.

Ever since the first batch of glamorous women had shown up, Ema had become the object of their scrutiny. Every smile he directed at her, every slight nudge of his hand on her back, every touch to brush her hair out of the way was being watched by at least a hundred women. An hour ago, when Klavier had been asked if he was going to ask anyone to dance (by a woman whose dress was so tiny, Ema wondered why she had bothered to wear anything at all) and his reply had been to look at Ema with the warmest smile, it had been the beginning of the dark, jealous looks. She could hear the whispers, the unkind titters when she bumped into another celebrity and dropped her purse, and that was when she'd known she simply could not dance with Klavier. They would all be watching. One wrong move, one little trip, and she would be the laughing stock of the ball (because that's what it was, not a mere 'party').

Ugh. Why me? There are a plethora of nimwit bimbos, beautiful enough to be his dance partner. Why does he insist on making me suffer like this?

"Because you are my kind of beautiful, Fräulein."

Ema gasped, whirling around to find Klavier, The Mind-Reader, looming over her with his charming smile. "How the hell did you—?"

"I told you," he said, holding a hand out to her. "I almost always know what you are thinking."

Ema eyed his hand suspiciously. "That's impossible."

"I assure you," he said with twinkling eyes. "It most certainly is not."

He's the devil, she thought impulsively. Handsome. Charming.

And he's making me feel… weird.

"What am I thinking now?"

He smirked. "That I am devilishly handsome."

Ema gasped.

"I see I was right," Klavier said, eyeing her in amusement. When Ema opened her mouth to protest, he held a hand up. "To make matters simple, I heard you grumbling about the beautiful women I will not ask to dance. The rest, I read in your eyes... Or guessed."

She narrowed said eyes at him. "You are incorrigible."

"And persistent," he added with a wink. "I will not stop until you dance with me."

Ema's panic grew as she looked down at his still-outstretched hand. She couldn't! She wouldn't! But when she looked up at him again to tell him so, he was examining her face carefully.

"You do not dance," he stated shrewdly.

It was an odd thought to cross her mind at that moment: perhaps it was the glamorousness of the ball, the dress she was wearing or just the fact that she had never dome anything like this before but she was strangely grateful to him. It wasn't the lack of ridicule and mockery in his voice when he said it or the absence of laughter in his eyes but the way he worded it. 'You do not dance' sounded far better than 'you cannot dance' after all.

When he took her hand, she didn't pull away and when he smiled, bending low to whisper something in her ear, she felt a tingle go down her spine.

"Come with me."

Though he had her hand, he paused to look at her and she understood he was giving her a choice. Ema looked down at their hands then at the empty space on the floor before her feet.

"Ema?"

His voice was a murmur but, as if she had somehow become attuned to it, she heard him over the music. The sound of her name on his lips was so comfortable that she couldn't believe it was the first time he was using it. She raised her eyes to him again; he was looking at her with a shrouded expression and waiting with a silence that raged louder than any sound she'd ever heard.

Ema took a step forward and she knew her life had changed forever.