Ficly

Shall We Dance?

She pushed the hair from in front of her eyes and frowned at the figure twirling her around the floor.
“I do not think,” he whispered, staring past her, to the finely decorated table behind them, “That your husband likes me.”
Her eyes opened in surprise as she tried to keep her head. It was rather difficult to do when one was being spun magnificently by an equally magnificent-looking gentleman.
“He is not my husband,” she managed, finally.
“Your boyfriend, then.” He smiled at his question; it sounded more like a statement. He winked at his guests. Everyone had put on their best gowns and tails for his annual gala.
This time, she only managed to shake her head.
He dipped her and looked at her with his smoldering eyes.
“Your brother?” This time, it was he who frowned.
“No,” she closed her eyes. “That is my partner, Detective Harrison. Mr. Daniel Triflock, I am detective Helena Gerry. You are under arrest for the robbery of the U.S. Federal Reserve.”
In shock, Daniel Triflock dropped her.

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