Mycroft Holmes was not paying attention to the Prime Minister.

Truth be told, he wasn't paying attention to much of anything, save the woman in the shimmering purple dress, sparkling blue eyes, and glossy auburn hair, laughing across the room. A crowd of graying old men around her looked enthralled, but of course they were. Naomi had always had that way about her. She could charm just about anyone with her smile, including him, the Ice Man himself.

She met his eyes across the distance, coyly tossed her hair over her shoulder, and smiled a little wider. Henri Nasrou, a charming French delegate, younger than the men around him and more interesting by half, tried to catch her attention. She nodded politely, delivered what Mycroft knew must've been a witty, well thought out statement, and the two of them laughed again.

He wasn't jealous, not really. The ring on Naomi's finger told the world she belonged with him and no one else, but they'd spent half the evening apart and he missed having her in his arms. He excused himself with the Prime Minister, set his champagne down on the table and stood, buttoning his tuxedo jacket.

Naomi was still engaged in conversation with Henri when Mycroft came up behind her. He slid his hand over her waist, the fabric of her dress silky against his fingertips, warm from her skin.

"Your wife is an absolute delight, Mr. Holmes." Henri was all smiles and sparkling brown eyes for Naomi. She laughed that musical laugh of hers and peeked at Mycroft over her shoulder.

"We've been discussing recent developments in French law," she explained, letting Mycroft pluck her glass of champagne from her fingers.

"Niqabs and hijabs in public spaces," Henri supplied. "A controversial topic, to be sure, but Naomi's expressed some very strong opinions regarding women's right to choose. I'm almost tempted to steal her away." His eyes darted impishly between them. "For consulting, of course."

"Then you won't mind if I steal her first," Mycroft answered smoothly, handing Henri Naomi's near empty glass. He took it with a look of surprise, but people rarely said no to Mycroft Holmes, even for such a small favor. "She owes me a dance."

"Of course." Henri raised both glasses aloft, flashing an amused smile. "It's been a pleasure, Mrs. Holmes," he added, addressing Naomi directly. "I look forward to further debates in the future."

"Likewise," Naomi assured him as Mycroft ushered her away, towards the very center of the half-crowded dance floor where he drew her into his arms. The music was soft and slow, perfect for pulling her against his chest, snaking an arm around her, and holding her close. She circled her arms around his neck, blue eyes still sparkling as their gazes met. "How was the Prime Minister?"

"Dull, as always," Mycroft replied, swaying on the spot. The cut of Naomi's dress left her back bare, and he smoothed a hand over soft skin, making her shiver in his arms. "My eyes were consistently drawn elsewhere, unfortunately."

She breathed a laugh, pressing herself closer. "Aren't they always, darling?"

"Only when you're in the room." Mycroft tipped his head to kiss her cheek and whisper in her ear, heedless of the glittering audience in the room. "You look ravishing."

Naomi brushed her fingertips over the sensitive skin behind his neck. "You've mentioned it before."

"Mm, and I'd very much like to take you home." Mycroft spun them in a slow circle, splaying his hand over the small of her back, holding her closer still.

She breathed another laugh against his neck. "What will people think?"

"At the moment, I'm not particularly concerned," he replied, pressing a covert kiss beneath her ear as he pulled back. "Most people know better than to talk behind my back, and those who don't are quick to learn."

"Well, then, Mr. Holmes." Naomi dropped her arms from around his neck, grasping the lapels of his tuxedo jacket to pull him close. Her smile was radiant and her eyes twinkled with mischief. "Take me home."