Chapter 13: Dangerous Liaisons

The morning after their almost-kiss was a blur of mission briefings and logistical planning. Marinette tried to focus as she went over the latest intelligence reports with Felix, her thoughts still slightly tangled with memories of his hand at her back, his lips just a breath away from hers. She forced herself to stay professional, aware that he was watching her a little too closely, his sharp green eyes catching every flicker of her expression.

"So," she said briskly, tapping her finger on a map of the city. "Our target will be at the Winter Ball tonight. It's formal—black tie, elite guest list, the works. Security will be tight, and we'll have to keep our roles perfectly convincing." She met his gaze evenly, trying to ignore the slight smirk tugging at his lips. "And I expect you to take this seriously, dear husband."

He tilted his head, his smirk growing. "I'm as serious as you are, darling. And I promise I won't let anything distract me tonight."

She shot him a skeptical look but dropped the subject, turning her attention back to the plans. The stakes were higher than ever—tonight, they'd need to identify several members of Hawkmoth's inner circle, including a mysterious informant rumored to be attending. Their mission required complete focus.

Yet, as the day went on, Marinette found herself growing increasingly distracted by thoughts of the formal event. She'd planned on wearing something simple, but now, with Felix's unyielding gaze still lingering in her memory, she felt a sudden urge to make a bolder statement.

Which was how she found herself calling her friend Alya.

An hour later, Marinette heard a knock at the door of their suite and opened it to see Alya standing there, grinning and holding a garment bag. "You're lucky I love you, Mari," Alya teased, stepping inside and closing the door behind her. "Last-minute fashion emergencies? I live for them."

Marinette couldn't help but smile, relief and gratitude flooding her as she pulled her friend into a hug. "Alya, you have no idea how much I needed this."

Alya winked, hanging the garment bag on a nearby hook. "Trust me. Now, let's get you looking like the knockout you are."

With Alya's guidance, Marinette slipped into the dress, the black corset hugging her torso with red jewels shimmering across the top, then fading downward in a delicate cascade. The gown itself was long, luxurious black satin that slowly faded to deep red as it reached the hem, with a dramatic slit on one side that revealed an inner layer of silky, blood-red fabric.

Alya fastened the corset, her fingers deftly securing the hooks as she glanced over Marinette's shoulder in the mirror, a mischievous smile lighting up her face. "If this doesn't make his jaw drop, nothing will."

Marinette blushed, trying to brush off the comment. "It's just a cover, Alya. You know that."

Alya gave her a knowing look. "Sure, keep telling yourself that. But I see the way you look at him."

Before Marinette could protest, Alya revealed a second garment bag, holding it up with a grin. "And I didn't forget about your partner in crime, either. I pulled a few strings and found something to make Felix look like he belongs right next to you."

Curious, Marinette helped Alya set out the items: a suit that matched her dress perfectly, with a black-to-red ombré dress shirt, a black blazer adorned with subtle red jewels at the shoulders, and a silky red tie. She had to admit—it was perfect.

When Felix entered the room a few minutes later, his eyebrow raised in mild curiosity, Alya looked at him approvingly, gesturing to the suit. "I'll leave you to get ready, Mr. Duval. Just remember—don't upstage the lady."

Felix shot a smirk at Marinette, then nodded to Alya. "No promises," he replied smoothly.

That evening, as they made their way into the Winter Ball, Marinette felt a mixture of excitement and anticipation humming through her. Alya's dress choice was a masterpiece, and she could feel the fabric swishing around her legs as she walked, the jeweled corset catching the light with every movement. She could feel Felix's gaze on her, and she wasn't surprised when he leaned close, his voice low.

"You're outdoing yourself tonight, Ladybug," he murmured, his words laced with admiration.

She shot him a sidelong glance, her lips curving into a subtle smile. "Just trying to stay convincing, darling."

As they entered the ballroom, they moved seamlessly into their roles, greeting other guests and making their way through the crowd. Felix was at her side, his presence solid and unyielding as they surveyed the room together, each of them quietly scanning for their targets. The air was filled with the sound of laughter and music, and the low hum of whispered conversations.

But as the evening progressed, Marinette noticed a figure standing near the far end of the room—a man dressed in a dark suit who seemed to be quietly observing the crowd. Felix noticed him too, and with a quick nod, he excused himself, disappearing into the crowd to gather information.

Marinette watched him go, a strange pang of disappointment tugging at her as he left her side. She focused on the crowd, trying to stay vigilant, but when she glanced back toward Felix's direction a few moments later, her heart skipped in irritation. He was in conversation with a tall, elegantly dressed woman who seemed all too interested in him. She was leaning close, her hand brushing Felix's arm as she laughed at something he said, her expression coy and playful.

Marinette felt an unexpected wave of jealousy rise within her, tightening in her chest. She knew it was irrational; they were here on a mission, and Felix was simply keeping up appearances. But watching this woman flirt with him so openly sent a rush of irritation through her that she couldn't ignore.

Before she could stop herself, Marinette crossed the room in quick, decisive steps, her heels clicking against the marble floor as she approached them. The woman looked at her with a faint, disinterested smile, but Marinette didn't give her the chance to speak.

"Excuse me," she said, her voice cool but firm as she stepped between them. She glanced pointedly at the woman, her tone laced with authority. "That's my husband you're talking to."

The woman blinked, taken aback, her gaze flicking between Marinette and Felix as she registered the claim. "Oh... I apologize, I didn't realize—"

"Consider yourself informed," Marinette replied smoothly, giving the woman a tight-lipped smile before she turned to Felix, slipping her arm through his in a possessive gesture that felt all too natural.

The woman excused herself, disappearing into the crowd, and Felix raised an eyebrow, amusement dancing in his eyes as he looked down at Marinette.

"Jealous, Ladybug?" he murmured, his voice low and teasing. "I didn't know you cared so much."

Marinette felt the blush creep up her cheeks, but she held his gaze, her chin lifting in defiance. "Don't flatter yourself. I was simply maintaining our cover."

"Of course." His smirk grew, his gaze alight with satisfaction. "Very convincing, darling. But if you ask me, you seemed a little too invested."

She opened her mouth to respond, but the words died on her lips as she realized she couldn't quite deny it—not entirely. There had been something about seeing him with that woman, something that had struck a chord she hadn't expected. She couldn't understand it, couldn't even justify it to herself, and the realization left her feeling flustered and frustrated.

Felix, of course, was enjoying every second of it. He leaned in, his voice barely a whisper as he continued, "If I didn't know any better, I'd say you were... possessive."

She rolled her eyes, trying to maintain her composure. "You're imagining things, Felix. I was just doing my job."

"Mm," he murmured, his tone skeptical but amused. "Keep telling yourself that, Marinette."

She shot him a glare, her cheeks still flushed, but he only chuckled, clearly pleased by her reaction. She forced herself to look away, to focus on the mission and not the strange thrill of having claimed him so boldly in front of that woman. But even as they continued their work, the memory of her own outburst lingered, the truth of it slipping past the denial she kept repeating in her mind.

Because no matter how much she tried to brush it off, Marinette couldn't shake the feeling that, just maybe, she'd meant every word.

Hold your horses Marinette! Don't want to go around scaring people away from your fake husband!

ILY! BYEEEE-Nattie