Past the table.
To the dance floor.
My stomach clenches because I remember last time. The way his gaze followed Julian. The way it felt like a humiliation delivered with a smile.
Richard’s voice is light. “At least you’re behaving tonight.”
I feel Julian’s hand slide into mine beneath the table.
My breath catches as his fingers lace with mine fully.
Richard notices. His eyes narrow a fraction.
Julian rises from his seat.
The movement makes the air shift. The table quiets. People nearby look over without pretending they aren’t.
Julian’s voice is smooth. “If you’ll excuse me.”
Richard’s brows lift, amused. “Where are you going?”
Julian turns slightly, his gaze landing on me, and for a second, the room disappears.
His eyes soften, not much, not enough for anyone else to clock, but I see it because I’m starting to learn him.
“I owe my wife a dance.”
My heart does something reckless.
Richard’s smile freezes.
He opens his mouth to speak... probably to make a comment, probably to slice something open in front of everyone...
But Julian doesn’t give him the chance.
He pulls me up gently, steadying me.
And then he guides me away from the table like we’re the only two people in the room.
Like the whole world is just… background noise.
My pulse is loud in my ears as we step onto the dance floor.
The music is slow. Smooth. Something classic with a steady rhythm that feels like it was designed for men like him.
Julian’s hand settles at my waist.
My hand rests on his shoulder. The tux under my palm is cool.
He draws me in. The movement is practiced. He knows how to dance.
I feel my body relax despite myself.
I feel the knot that's lived in my body for so long loosen one breath at a time.
“This is… different,” I whisper.
Julian’s mouth curves faintly. “It should have been like this the first time.”
