I stepped closer, lowering my voice. “It’s all right, I’ve got you.” I reached out, taking her elbow and gently steering her away from the crowd.
Lucia let me guide her, her steps unsteady, toes catching on the sticky floor. “I don’t want to go back yet,” she mumbled, her voice soft but laced with determination. Her eyes darted over my shoulder, like she was already plotting an escape route. Then she looked up at me, her bottom lip jutting out in a pout.
“I want to dance,” she whined, her tone petulant, fists balled at her sides like she was on the verge of stomping her foot. It was so ridiculously endearing that I almost laughed. She looked exactly like Gia when she wasn’t getting her way—the same scrunched-up expression, the same wide, pleading eyes. Damn it, she even had the same pout.
I sighed, knowing I didn’t stand a chance against that look. If I said no, she’d wriggle out of my grasp and head straight for the dance floor anyway, and I was not about to lose her again.
“Fine,” I said, caving with a shake of my head. “One dance.”
Her face lit up, her eyes catching the neon lights and sparkling like she’d just won the lottery. A soft smile tugged at her lips, entrancing me. She knew she won.
The music shifted to a slower, sultry beat as we moved onto the edge of the dance floor. I wasn’t even sure why I’d agreed to this. Lucia was drunk, light on her feet, swaying like the music was stitched into her bones. She grabbed my hand and pulled me into the rhythm before I had time to think, her touch soft but insistent.
“See?” she said, laughing as she spun herself around, her hair catching the lights like gold. “Not so bad, is it?”
I didn’t answer. I couldn’t. All I could do was watch as she let go of herself, her movements fluid, carefree. This was a side of her I’d never seen before—uninhibited and glowing with joy, like nothing else in the world mattered except this moment. Her arms lifted above her head, her hips swaying as she stepped closer to me.
Too close.
“Come on, Alexander,” she teased, her voice light, her eyes locking on mine. “You can’t just stand there like a statue.”
She reached for my other hand, and without thinking, I let her take it. She guided me into the rhythm, our movements clumsy at first, but then something shifted. I found myself falling into step with her, the music weaving us together. The small touches of her fingers grazing mine, her shoulder brushing against my chest, sent sparks racing up my spine. I wanted more, I wanted my hands to outline the curve of her waist, to pull her closer.
Her laugh bubbled up again as she stepped even closer, as if hearing my thoughts, the faint scent of her perfume wrapping around me. It was intoxicating, and I hated how much I noticed. Hated how the heat of her skin so near mine made my pulse race. Hated how beautiful she looked, her cheeks flushed and eyes shimmering under the club’s flashing lights.
This wasn’t supposed to happen. Not with her.
“Admit it,” she said, tilting her head up at me, her voice teasing but soft. “You’re having fun.”
I swallowed hard, forcing my expression into something neutral. “It’s the music,” I replied, my voice gruff, trying to put some distance between us even as she closed the gap. “Hard not to move.”
“Sure,” she said, grinning, her fingers sliding down my arm like a featherlight trail of fire. “It’s just the music.”
Her touch lingered, and I felt my control slipping, the invisible line I’d drawn in my mind starting to blur. I couldn’t stop looking at her, couldn’t ignore the way her lips curved, or the way her hair framed her face like a damn halo.
She leaned in, her voice barely audible over the music. “I think you like this.”
I huffed out a breath, a dry laugh escaping before I could stop it. “You’re drunk, Lucia.”
“And you’re avoiding the question,” she countered, her hand now resting lightly on my chest.
I should’ve stepped back, should’ve pulled away from the heat of her touch, the way her fingers splayed against the fabric of my shirt. But I didn’t. I couldn’t. Instead, I found myself leaning in, just enough to catch the faintest glint in her eyes.
“Lucia,” I said, my voice low, a warning that didn’t sound nearly as firm as it should have.
“What?” she asked, grinning like she’d won something. Her voice was playful, but there was something else in her gaze. Something softer, deeper, that made my chest tighten.
I shook my head, a small laugh slipping out despite myself. “You’re impossible.”
But the song ended, reality crashing back into me.
“All right, one song is done,” I said, my voice firmer than before. “Let’s go get your brother and head back to the hotel.”
Lucia stopped mid-spin, turning to face me, her hair falling in loose waves over her shoulders. She pouted again, and I braced myself. The pout was dangerous—almost as bad as her smile.
“One song?” she said, her voice soft, teasing. “You’re no fun, Alexander.”
I sighed, raking a hand through my hair. “You’re drunk, Lucia.”
