1 ELIZA
The door clicks shut, and the bolt slides home with a heavy, final sound. My heart hammers against my ribs, a frantic bird in a cage of bone. Outside this room, a hundred conversations hum, the muted notes of a string quartet drifting over the murmur of our guests. A world waits for me. But in here, there is only the scent of my perfume, the heavy rustle of silk, and him.
Jack stands before me, a monolith in black wool and a stark white shirt. His bow tie is slightly askew, a rebellious detail on an otherwise perfect form. His eyes, the color of sapphires, drink me in from head to toe. He takes a step, then another, the sound of his polished shoes on the marble floor a counterpoint to the wild thrum of my pulse. The space between us shimmers, charged with everything unsaid.