Blanca’s expression is tight. The lines on her face, due to aging and stress, deepen when her gaze flickers to Carina. It happens quickly, but I notice it. As a middle child, I’ve watched people all my life, while being overlooked. And that’s given me a wealth of knowledge concerning body language.
This woman is upset.
“Blanca will be fine, Rafael.” She turns to her daughter. “Carina, you look wonderful tonight.”
My fiancée removes her arm from where it rests on mine and embraces her mother, kissing both cheeks as is customary. “Thank you,” she says. “So does Violetta.”
The younger woman does nothing more than lift her eyes to pin them on Carina. This close, I’m able to recognize the emptiness and apathy in her gaze. I maintain my jovial facial expression, but inside I’m seething. Ugo hadn’t lied about Violetta witnessing her sister’s assault, which explains her mannerisms and odd behavior. The very idea of telling Carina makes me ill at the pain it will cause her. She’ll blame herself for Violetta’s condition, when Carina should take none of the guilt.
She turns and gingerly wraps her arms around Violetta, and the girl’s rigid posture relaxes in the embrace. This doesn’t surprise me whatsoever, and that’s why I’m not watching my fiancée. I’m paying close attention to the way Violetta gently pats Carina’s back twice, and during that time she closes her eyes as though in relief or maybe even bliss. This woman is not completely lost in the labyrinth of her psyche. Knowing what I do about her trauma, she might consider her mind a sanctuary. Just like the silence she wraps herself in.
“I do believe that’s our song,viziata,” I say. Carina releases her sister and does a good job acting as though nothing is amiss, but I catch the flash of longing in her gaze. “Will you do me the honor?”
As soon as she takes my outstretched hand, I whisk her away from the Nardones and onto the dance floor. I wait until we’re a safe distance before questioning her.
“Are you alright?”
She sighs. “Not really.”
“Smile, people are always watching.” Carina’s face instantly takes on the look of an enamored woman. “That’s my good girl. And you know what I have to say about that.”
“Rafael…” Her exasperation is delightful, much better than her pained expression from a moment ago. “You never stop being yourself, even in a room full of people who would kill you at the snap of my father’s fingers.” She shakes her head, huffing out a small laugh. “I believe nothing will ever demoralize you.”
“I don’t know… The very idea of eating your cunt makes me fucking weak.”
She makes a choking sound and her gaze widens. I grin before sending her away from me in a smooth execution of the dance move, and then reel her back in until her soft curves are pressed against me.
“I believe you could make anything sexual,” she grumbles halfheartedly. “Even something as simple as a formal dance.”
“Dancing is sensual. Am I going to have to teach you that as well? First off, you still need to learn how to lie. Secondly, you need to realize dancing is vertical sex with our clothes on. And thirdly, dancing and sex are only as good as your partner.” I waggle my brows at her in a suggestive manner. “Which means I’m fantastic at dancing and fucking.”
Carina’s face can’t get any more pink, but she doesn’t back down. “You forgot lying. For all I know, you’re lying right—”
I bend her back into a low dip, effectively cutting her off. She glares at me, but the heat in her eyes isn’t anger; it’s desire. When I bring her upright, I kiss her nose.
“Keep looking at me like that and I’m going to fuck you on this dance floor. It could help people’s perception of us as a loving couple.”
She rolls her eyes. “You wish.”
“Actually, I do. Maybe we should put that on the list of things to do at our wedding?”
Her expression doesn’t change, but there’s a shift in her gaze, a dulling of the ember flames within. It’s gone so quickly I’m not sure if I imagined it or not. She’s getting better at hiding things from me. Not completely, yet more than before.
“Absolutely not,” she says. “No public fornication.”
“You’re lame.”
Carina graces me with a reluctant smile, knowing I’m throwing her words back at her.
The song ends and we stroll from the dance floor, amid other people. I return us to our seats and snag two flutes of champagne. She takes one from me and daintily sips on the beverage, while I scan the room. For the millionth time. So far there’s no one acting suspicious, besides my fiancée, and that’s why I haven’t indulged in any drinking. I need my faculties sharp at all times in this environment.
“Excuse me a moment,” she says.
My fiancée is on her feet so quickly it’s as though someone set her chair on fire. I take hold of her wrist, not enough to hurt but with enough strength to keep her from leaving.
“Where are you going?”
Her gaze is full of anticipation, rimmed with panic. “Violetta’s finally by herself and I’ve been waiting for a chance to speak to her alone. Please let me go.”
