“As I will to mine.”
“Is your dance card full this evening?” Oleg asked.
“Quite.” Her smile held a hint of irritation. “My social secretary has been very busy the past week.”
“Then I am flattered that you have reserved the first waltz for me.”
Oleg didn’t waste another word, staring into her eyes and imagining a night when he could claim every dance, every moment. When he could parade her through the streets of Saint Petersburg, Vienna, Budapest, and Kyiv.
He would drape her in the jewels of his empire, and she would be worshipped by every immortal who saw her. And Oleg would be the vampire at her side, fire to her ice.
“Oleg,” she whispered, glancing at their joined hands.
His hand had burned through her silk glove, the blue fire rippling over his fingers as he held her hand in his. Her element met his, and steam rose from where their palms met, but Oleg could not bring himself to pull away.
The orchestra started their finale, picking up the pace as the immortal dancers whirled in a kaleidoscope of silk and jewels. Electric energy filled the ballroom.
And Oleg and Tatyana were in the center of it all, the burning lord and his icy partner. He could feel eyes on them, but still, he could not break away.
And when the last swell of strings died and the crowd began their applause, Oleg stood with Tatyana in the center of it all, a cloud of steam still dancing around them.
Chapter 8
Tatyana
“Well, people will be talking about that for years.” Diana’s eyes were lit up. “I don’t know if you were fighting or not, but it was quite the spectacle.”
Tatyana refused to react. Her heart was beating at a nearly human rate, which meant she was excited, and she was trying to calm herself. It had taken everything in her to keep her face impassive and professional.
“Next on my dance card?” she asked Diana.
She caught Kezia’s raised eyebrow a short distance away, but her sister said nothing. It was a relief. Kezia could be fierce in her criticisms of Oleg, and Tatyana was not in the mood to listen.
Oleg had slid something onto her dress in the moments after their dance as the steam whirled around them and all the others were clapping for the orchestra.
She pressed her hand to her shoulder, right under the gather of silk from her headdress, but all she felt was a brooch of some kind, and she could not look.
“Your next dance is a quadrille with the Slovakian duke,” Diana quickly said. “He’s already walking this way.”
“Looking for a higher percentage of Poshani workers in the automotive factory we want to open in Trnava,” Rumi added. “We’re at fifteen percent now, so push for thirty.”
Tatyana nodded. “I remember.”
She would press for thirty-five percent but settle at twenty to twenty-five. That would give the duke a small but greater victory while still accomplishing her goals.
Tatyana turned as she saw him approach from the corner of her eye. “Duke Andrej, so good to see you again.”
“Shall we?” The duke held out his hand and Tatyana took it.
Diana had already procured her another set of gloves, which she’d quickly changed into after her dance with Oleg.
What do you do to me?
She caught her husband’s eye as they passed each other on the dance floor. He was holding the hand of Alina Machabeli, the regent of Georgia. Hardly a surprise, considering their close and historic relationship.
After that, he would dance with another, as would she. If her feet could get sore, they would be by the end of the night.
Tatyana hadn’t been lying that her dance card was full, so it wouldn’t have been possible to dance with her husband again even if their relationship was public.
