The music shifts.
Strings slice through the air like blades, sharp and haunting, the kind of waltz that doesn’t ask you to dance but dares you to survive it.
Matteo moves first, his hand slides from the small of my back to my waist, the other lifting my fingers, guiding me into the storm. I follow because I don’t know how not to.
Every step is deliberate. Every turn choreographed by something older than us, rage, legacy, loyalty… and love.
His eyes never leave mine. Even when the room spins, even when my heels drag slightly across the waxed floor. He doesn’t let me fall.
“Breathe,” he whispers.
“I am.”
“You’re trembling.”
“Maybe I like dancing with danger.”
His lips curl into a smirk that’s pure sin. “Then you’ve chosen the right partner.” He leans down and gives me a kiss, again something I never want him to stop.
“So, you can dance?” I ask.
“I’m a very talented person, you’ll learn that sooner or later.” He winks and quickly scans the room before looking back at me. “Honestly, I’m not that good, Milo now, he can dance.”
Not that good, he’s moving like he knows he looks sexy while dancing, and so if this is not good, I need to see Milo dancing.
I look around to see if I can spot Milo, and I smile when he’s dancing with someone I don’t know, but it’s smooth. He spins the girl around under his arm, and without breaking movement he’s into the next step. Well, the brothers are very smooth, I can say that.
Then I can feel it, the air, charged like lightning crawling just beneath the skin. Eyes are on us, but for the first time, I don’t shrink beneath them.
Let them look. Let them see. Let them remember the girl in red, who danced with the son of a mafia king and didn’t flinch.
The tempo shifts again, faster now.
Matteo spins me out, then back into his chest, his hand gripping tighter. The moment our bodies press together, something cracks open inside me. A breath I didn’t realize I was holding escapes.
He leans down, his mouth near my neck. “They’re still watching.”
“Let them.”
“I want to kiss you,” he growls softly. “Right here, in front of them all.”
“What’s stopping you?”
His hand slides up my spine, and I feel his restraint tremble. “Not you.”
“Then don’t hold back.”
He spins me again, the heat between us nearly combusting, and when I land against him this time, his mouth captures mine.
It’s not soft.
It’s not gentle.
It’s a claim.
A cry disguised as a kiss, and when his lips crush into mine, the music vanishes. The world dissolves. All that exists is Matteo and the fire he sets alight in every part of me.
Gasps ripple across the ballroom.
