But my traitorous heart whispers, what if he's not?
I force my expression into something casual, praying I look mildly interested instead of desperately hopeful.
The last thing I need is to broadcast my pathetic crush when he's probably just checking off his social obligations.
God, I'm a mess.
Cillian must notice the change in my posture because he glances over his shoulder, following my gaze. When he spots Anton approaching, something shifts in his stance. Not tension exactly, but awareness.
Right. The Chicago assignments.
Of course they know each other. I found out Dad's been sending Cillian, too, on this new venture. These two are now colleagues.
"Evening, Baev," Cillian says when Anton reaches us, his tone professionally cordial.
"O'Brien." Anton's voice carries that familiar gravel, and his pale gray eyes flick between Cillian and me.
Cillian takes a deliberate step back, creating space between us. "I'll be at the bar if you need anything, Ms. Quinn."
And then he's gone, melting into the crowd with the practiced invisibility of a good bodyguard, leaving me alone with Anton.
Anton stands there in his perfectly tailored black suit, looking like he stepped out of some dark fable. My heart refuses to listen to my brain's very reasonable warnings that I'm reading too much into this.
"Fee." My name sounds different when he says it, rougher somehow.
"Anton." I tilt my head up to meet his eyes.
I catch the scent of his cologne, a rich, dark fragrance that's become achingly familiar over the six months of this torture.
"You're the most beautiful woman here tonight." His voice drops to that gravelly tone that sends heat racing through my veins.
"Thank you."
"Dance with me, Fee." A command wrapped in silk, delivered with the controlled confidence of a man whose whispered words have ended lives.
My heart hammers against my ribs as I nod, not trusting my voice.
Anton's hand settles on my lower back, guiding me onto the dance floor. When we reach the center, he turns to face me, and for a heartbeat we just stand there, the string quartet's melody washing over us.
Then his arms come around me, one hand finding mine while the other stays pressed against my spine. I'm close enough to feel the controlled strength in his touch.
We move together like we've been dancing for years instead of seconds. Anton's hand is warm and steady against my skin, guiding me through the slow rhythm with an ease that surprises me. For someone so controlled, so careful with his words, he dances like he means it.
When the song ends, the DJ's voice crackles over the speakers again. "Ladies and gentlemen, let's give our newlyweds one final send-off as they begin their honeymoon!"
The crowd parts as Sage and Maks make their way toward the exit, her lovely dress trailing behind her. She catches my eye across the dance floor and blows me a kiss, her face radiant with joy. I blow one back, my heart full watching her happiness.
Anton's hand is still on my back, and I feel him shift beside me. When I glance up, there's the rarest thing, a genuine smile softening his usually serious features as he watches Maks wrap his arm around Sage's waist.
"They look so happy," I say.
"Maks deserves it." Anton's voice carries warmth I don't often hear. "He's been through hell. Seeing him like this..." He pauses, that jaw muscle ticking like it does when he's thinking something he won't say out loud.
"And Sage deserves someone who looks at her like she hung the moon." I watch as Maks dips his head to whisper something in my cousin's ear that makes her laugh. "I've never seen her this happy."
The crowd erupts in cheers as the newlyweds disappear. The reception continues around us, but something has shifted in the air between Anton and me. We're standing closer than we were before, his hand still resting on my lower back like he's forgotten to move it away.
"Fee. Would you take a walk with me?"
