Chapter 7: Too Close for Comfort

The journey to the next gala was as smooth as any meticulously planned mission, but as the train slid into the station in Milan, Marinette couldn't shake the feeling that she and Felix were skating on thinner ice than either cared to admit. After weeks of relentless bickering, forced proximity, and navigating Hawkmoth's ever-tightening web of danger, Marinette had hoped for at least a few hours to decompress before launching back into their undercover act as "Mr. and Mrs. Duval."

Their arrival at the luxury hotel only deepened her sense of foreboding.

As they approached the check-in desk, Felix handed over their fake passports with a confident ease that only served to irritate Marinette further. The receptionist scanned the documents and typed briskly, her manicured fingers clicking across the keyboard before she glanced up at them with an apologetic smile.

"I'm terribly sorry, but there's been a mix-up with your reservation," she said, her tone professionally polite. "It appears we only have one room available for you tonight. All other suites are fully booked due to the gala. Our sincerest apologies."

Marinette's eyes narrowed. "One room? Are you sure?"

The receptionist nodded, her smile unyielding. "Yes, Mrs. Duval. The room is our finest suite, with a beautiful view of the city and every luxury amenity."

Marinette forced a tight-lipped smile, her mind already racing with frustration. She glanced at Felix, who seemed utterly unbothered by the news. If anything, he appeared amused, his green eyes dancing with mischief.

"Oh, don't look so tense, darling," he drawled, leaning in close enough for his breath to tickle her ear. "It's only one night."

Marinette's cheeks flushed at the way he lingered, entirely too close for comfort. She stepped back, her expression carefully neutral. "Right. Only one night."

They followed the receptionist to their suite, Marinette trailing just behind Felix, glowering at the back of his head. He was taking this far too well, and the smugness practically radiated from him. But as the receptionist opened the door, Marinette's heart sank further.

The suite was beautiful, with floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking Milan's glittering skyline, a marble-tiled bathroom, and a velvet sofa set beside a fireplace. But the focal point of the room—and the glaring problem—was a single, plush king-sized bed right in the center. Marinette's stomach flipped as she took in the sight.

"Oh, look at that," Felix remarked, his voice laced with mock wonder. "One bed. How convenient."

Marinette shot him a dark look, brushing past him into the room and dumping her suitcase on the armchair by the window. "You can take the couch, dear husband," she said with a saccharine smile. "Or the floor. I don't care."

Felix raised an eyebrow, a slow grin spreading across his face. "So quick to claim the bed, Ladybug? That's not very ladylike of you."

She felt the blush creeping up her cheeks again, but she forced herself to ignore it, yanking open her suitcase with a huff. "Trust me, I'm more than capable of being ladylike, Felix. But tonight, I'd prefer to get some sleep."

Unfazed, Felix strolled over to the bed, settling onto it with a casual ease that only seemed to stoke her irritation. He leaned back, crossing his arms behind his head as he glanced over at her, an infuriatingly relaxed expression on his face.

"Well," he said, his voice softening just a fraction, "if you get lonely over there, I'm right here."

Marinette's cheeks flamed, but she quickly busied herself with her suitcase, determined not to look at him. "You're impossible, Felix."

He chuckled softly, watching her with an amused glint in his eyes. "It's part of my charm, or so I'm told."

Rolling her eyes, Marinette grabbed her dress for the gala and retreated to the bathroom to get ready, grateful for the temporary escape from his teasing. The moment the door shut behind her, she leaned against it, taking a deep breath to steady herself. The way he looked at her, the way he smirked as if he knew exactly how much he was getting under her skin—it was infuriating. And yet, as much as she hated to admit it, it was also... exhilarating.

Half an hour later, she emerged in her dress—a sleek, midnight-blue number that went to her mid-thighs, hugged her curves, and shimmered under the light. She'd chosen it deliberately, knowing it would lend her an air of elegance and allure. But the look on Felix's face when he saw her nearly made her forget her irritation.

His smirk faded, replaced by a look of genuine admiration that softened the edges of his usually guarded expression. His green eyes lingered on her, a flash of surprise and... something else flickering in his gaze.

"Stunning," he murmured, his voice uncharacteristically low.

Marinette tried to ignore the way her heart skipped a beat. Instead, she lifted her chin, raising an eyebrow as she took in his outfit—a midnight blue suit with a black dress shirt, perfectly tailored, the faintest hint of cologne clinging to him.

"You don't look too bad yourself," she replied, forcing herself to sound as unaffected as possible.

He offered her his arm, his expression still softened with that strange, unreadable warmth. "Shall we, Mrs. Duval?"

As they made their way downstairs, Marinette couldn't shake the unsettling realization that being this close to Felix—both in the suite and now, arm in arm as they descended the staircase—felt far too natural.

The gala was held in a sprawling ballroom, decked with crystal chandeliers, silver-draped tables, and flower arrangements that filled the air with a delicate fragrance. Marinette slipped into her role with practiced ease, keeping close to Felix as they moved through the crowd, greeting fellow guests and slipping easily into conversation.

But the whole time, she was painfully aware of his proximity—the brush of his arm against hers, the subtle warmth radiating from him as they exchanged murmured remarks between interactions with the guests.

"Mr. Duval," an elegantly dressed woman purred as she approached, her gaze lingering on Felix with a little too much interest. "You must introduce me to your beautiful wife."

Felix shot Marinette a subtle, amused glance before turning to the woman with a charming smile. "Of course. May I present my wife, Amélie," he said, his hand resting possessively at the small of Marinette's back.

Marinette forced a polite smile, trying to ignore the little thrill that ran through her at the warmth of his touch. "A pleasure to meet you," she said smoothly.

The woman gave her a polite smile, but her eyes kept drifting back to Felix. Marinette found herself suppressing a stab of irritation as the woman placed a hand on Felix's arm, laughing softly at something he'd said.

Felix seemed to notice her irritation. Leaning closer to Marinette, he murmured, "Jealous, darling?"

Her cheeks flamed, and she quickly shook her head. "Don't flatter yourself," she whispered back, though she couldn't quite keep the edge out of her voice.

Felix chuckled, his hand lingering on her back as he steered her toward another group. "Good. I wouldn't want to think you were developing a soft spot for me."

As the night wore on, they continued to play their parts flawlessly, each interaction heightening the illusion of the perfect, enamored couple. But Marinette's carefully constructed mask cracked as soon as they returned to the suite.

She kicked off her heels and strode toward the bed, her frustration bubbling over. Felix watched her, his arms crossed as he leaned against the doorframe, clearly amused by her irritation.

"What's wrong?" he asked innocently. "Didn't enjoy the gala?"

"Oh, I enjoyed it plenty," she replied, her tone dripping with sarcasm. "Particularly the part where you insisted on 'protecting' me from everyone in the room."

Felix's smirk deepened as he took a step closer. "Just doing my job, Mrs. Duval. Would you rather I left you to fend off half the gala on your own?"

Marinette's cheeks flushed again as she glared at him, her heart pounding in a way that had nothing to do with anger. "I don't need you to fend off anyone, Felix. I can handle myself."

"Of course you can," he replied smoothly, his gaze unwavering. "But where would be the fun in that?"

Before she could respond, he moved past her, taking off his jacket and draping it over the armchair. The air between them seemed to thicken as he unbuttoned his shirt cuffs, rolling them up casually.

Marinette forced herself to look away, grabbing a pillow from the bed and tossing it toward him. "You're still on the couch."

He caught the pillow effortlessly, his smirk never faltering. "Whatever you say, darling."

With one last look, Marinette climbed into bed, turning her back to him as she pulled the blanket up to neck and tried to go to sleep.

Hey y'all, so...progress with Felinette...yeah, it's finally coming!

ILY!-Nattie