"That sounds interesting," Elena said. "I'd need to see the details before I agree."
"Of course." He gestured, asking her to dance. "Would you honor me with a dance? It's easier to talk business on the floor."
He extended a hopeful hand.
Danger flared like a hot coal in my chest. The man acted as if I didn't exist. I opened my mouth, but Elena's palm stopped mine — she pressed my hand, calming me with her touch.
"Sorry, Mr. Brown," she said, sweet but firm. "My partner is here."
She looked at me, and something hit me hard.
"Oh." Michael's expression shifted from surprise to disappointment. "That's a shame."
"If you want to discuss business, my assistant can schedule a meeting," Elena added, polite but distant. "Forgive me, but I must excuse myself now."
She linked her arm in mine and steered me to the dance floor. The band began a waltz, slow and warm.
"That felt good, didn't it?" she whispered, on her toes, arms around my neck, smiling.
My hand found her waist, and we moved together. She was light, like a feather.
"Yeah." My voice stayed taut. "But I wanted to break that bastard's hand. Did you see him? He looked at you like you were a cake he wanted to swallow."
"He was a businessman trying to do business," she said, though her smirk betrayed her. She enjoyed my jealousy.
I pulled her closer until I could feel her breath against my chin. "If you hadn't stopped me, I would've hit him."
"You're a savage." She teased, fingers at the back of my neck. "But thanks for holding back. I didn't want our night to turn into a boxing match."
"Then stay away from men who stare like that," I warned. "I have a short fuse, Elena — especially when you look like this."
"You're dramatic." She batted innocent eyes.
"You know what you do." I watched the curve of her shoulder and collarbone. "You look like trouble. Every man wants to possess you."
"But I belong to one person." Her voice turned serious.
I froze. "Who?"
"You." She reached up and kissed me. "Igor Vorontsov. My date. My boyfriend. the father of my daughter."
I held her like she was everything, and finally had the confession I wanted.
Voices murmured around us; I didn't care. I kissed her until she was breathless, then we kept dancing.
The music wound down, and the band finished. Applause rippled through the room. Ms. Rossini clapped with a bright smile. Paul applauded, though his expression was complicated. Michael had already turned away, talking to someone else — reality had set in.
"Let's go," Elena said. "We still have people to greet."
For the next two hours, we moved through the crowd. Elena was astonishing — remembering names, knowing each company's angle, finding the right topic for everyone.
By 10:30, the party was winding down. Ms. Rossini pulled Elena aside to arrange a meeting in Milan next week to discuss long-term cooperation. After the last guests left, we finally left.
On the drive back, Elena rested her head on my shoulder, eyes closed.
"Tired?" I asked.
"Yeah." She breathed. "Two hours in heels —my legs are killing me."
