There's something intoxicating about being held by someone whocould snap a man's neck with the hands that are gently guiding me around the room.
But all too soon the song fades, and a desperation sets in.
I press closer, tilting my face up toward his. "We could find somewhere quiet to talk.”
The warmth in him recedes. His hands release me abruptly, leaving me cold.
"No, we can't." His voice turns to gravel. "This dance is over, Miss Dante."
The formal address stings. He steps back, creating a proper distance between us.
Heat rushes to my cheeks, embarrassment mixed with anger. "Cristian?—"
"Don't." The word is sharp, and at first, I flinch.
But as I study him, I sense that he’s not just saying it to me, but to himself as well.
In his fathomless eyes, I swear I see desire, and his irritation is at feeling tempted.
He's fighting himself.
And then it’s gone.
The soldier is back, rigid, detached.
Yes, the rejection burns, but I know what I saw.
That fleeting glimpse beneath his armor boosts my determination.
I've spent my life surrounded by dangerous men. I know their weaknesses.
And I've found Cristian's. Me.
"As you wish," I say, smoothing my expression into cool detachment.
I watch Cristian walk away, his broad shoulders tight with tension, the perfect soldier retreating to his post.
My skin still burns where his hands rested moments ago.
The memory of his touch lingers, and something molten pools low in my belly.
This isn't just about denying Maksim my virginity anymore.
There's something about Cristian that calls to me, even if he tries to hide who he is under the Herculean control he maintains.
I want to be the one who makes him lose that control.
Across the room, Alessandro catches my eye and raises an eyebrow.
I give him a smile, the perfect picture of a dutiful sister.
I grab a flute of champagne from a passing server.
I sip it, watching Cristian resume his post by the wall.
His eyes scan the crowd methodically, but when they land on me, they linger a beat too long before moving on.
A thrill runs through me.