Reckless {HS}

thirty-eight

Harry's Pov

I couldn't believe how stunning Delilah looked in that dress. The way the emerald green fabric clung to her curves, the slit exposing just enough of her leg to be both elegant and daring—it left me breathless. I tried to stay focused, reminding myself that we had a job to do, but the moment I saw her step out, I knew tonight would be harder than anticipated. And when I caught her checking me out in my suit, it sparked something in me—something that made me feel a little too cocky, maybe.

We made our way down to the ballroom, blending in with the upscale crowd that filled the room. Everyone here was dressed to the nines—men in tuxedos, women in glamorous gowns, sparkling jewelry glinting in the low, ambient lighting. It was perfect cover, but also a stark reminder of the high-stakes game we were about to play.

Delilah reached for a glass of champagne as soon as we stepped inside, her fingers grazing the flute. Before the glass could reach her lips, I stopped her, wrapping my hand around hers gently but firmly. "You're gonna want to stay focused tonight," I murmured in her ear, my voice low. She gave me a look, but put the glass down without protest.

We had to blend in. Look like any other couple attending the event, not a group of thieves about to pull off a high-end heist. I could feel the weight of my earpiece pressing into my ear, the silence on the other end thick with anticipation.

We moved through the crowd, nodding politely at people we passed, trying to act like we belonged. All around us, conversations hummed, the clinking of glasses and soft laughter blending with the sound of music floating from the live band. Everything looked normal on the outside, but inside, my mind was racing.

Louis's voice crackled through the earpiece. "Almost ready," he said.

My pulse quickened. We were getting close.

Music started playing, a slow, melodic tune that sent couples swaying across the dance floor. I glanced at Delilah. She was scanning the room, clearly still nervous. I smirked to myself, then leaned in just enough to get her attention. "Do you want to dance?" I asked, knowing she'd be hesitant.

Her eyes flicked to mine, unsure. "Dance?" she repeated. She hesitated, clearly conflicted.

"We're just blending in," I said, my smirk deepening. "Come on, Delilah."

I held out my hand, waiting. For a moment, she looked like she might refuse, but then she sighed, placing her hand in mine. I couldn't help the satisfaction that bloomed in my chest as I led her to the dance floor. The lights above cast a soft glow over us, and as we found our rhythm, the rest of the room seemed to fade away.

As we danced, it was like there was no one else in the world but us. The chemistry between us was undeniable, and each movement only made it stronger. My hand rested on the small of her back, pulling her just close enough to feel her warmth. Her fingers were laced with mine, her gaze locking with mine like we were in sync in a way we hadn't been before.

Her body moved in perfect harmony with mine, and for a second, I let myself forget everything else. The plan, the job, the risks—none of it mattered. All I could think about was the way her eyes shimmered in the dim light, the way her breath hitched every time our faces got too close.

But the moment was shattered when Niall's voice cut through the earpiece.

"It's time."

Delilah stiffened in my arms, the reality of what we were here to do crashing back over us. I forced myself to pull back, but I kept my hand on her waist, steadying her.

"Let's go," I whispered, my voice laced with both urgency and regret. We had to move, but for the first time in a long time, I wished we didn't.