“Not according to Eivor,” Rosalie says through her teeth as she strains a smile. “He decided our dance would be best suited while the guests are being served.”
I bite my tongue for a moment. “Very well.”
Before too long, Rosalie and I are motioned to the center of the dance floor while the violin music that surrounds us grows both louder and slower in tempo. It’s obvious what’s expected of us, despite having never danced together before.
Rosalie’s hand that rests in mine feels incredibly cold all of the sudden, and I glance over at her to see the strained look of her face. Her smile is even more so forced than before.
Regardless, as we get to the center of the room, I pull her close to me. One hand is on her waist; the other holds her hand on the opposite side after guiding her other hand to my shoulder.
We don’t speak. Not yet anyway.
The music fades for a moment.
“Please join us in watching Mr. Dresvanni and the future Mrs. Dresvanni in a dance to celebrate their engagement!” I swear Rosalie’s hand is squeezing mine so tightly that she might cut off the blood flow to my fingers.
Applause follows, then the music becomes loud once again. Playing a song that will allow me to perfectly lead Rosalie in a simple dance with a pleasant tempo. Not too fast, not too slow.
Something that I know neither of us wants to be doing right now.
Despite this, I take a step back and lead Rosalie to step forward. She does as I guide her to do, and we dance in a two-foot section of the dance floor, side to side, back and forth, our bodies growing closer to each other.
I know how to dance in a more elaborate fashion, but it seems unnecessary for this event and moment.
The quicker it’s over, the better.
I have my gaze set to the side of Rosalie’s head, focusing on her ear rather than her face or expression. I think about my plans for after this. To be alone, with no one bothering me. No one expecting anything of me. Just peace and quiet.
And a cigarette.
Ah, that would be divine.
I take a step to the right, to the left, and forward. On this forward step though, I feel Rosalie falter. It’s enough to take me off balance for a brief moment. I look to her face as I get us back on track before anyone notices. Her eyes are glistening. Wet and pink around the edges of her long mascara-coated eye lashes.
I feel something move in me, just a bit. Some minor concern for the woman that prompts me to lean in closer to her in a natural manner. I place my head against the side of hers so that we can speak without being overheard or intruded upon.
“Are you quite alright?” I ask her in a hush.
“I’m fine,” she insists. “I just don’t enjoy dancing.”
I can hear her voice waver, and I know she’s lying to me.
“If you’re going to lie to me, at least make it good,” I tell her in return.
She huffs softly. “Why, it’s not like you actually care. Do you?” her question is laced with a verbal venom. Sharp, but not nearly as stinging as she might be hoping for.
“Does it matter?” I ask. “Our audience believes it.” I tilt my cheek against the side of her head, and place my mouth againsther hair ever so slightly. An expression of affection to anyone watching closely.
I slide my hand from her hip around to her lower back and draw her in closer.
I feel her breath quiver, and I smirk to myself.
“Maybe even you can,” I rumble out. I know how to seduce a woman, even if I’m not interested in them.
“I hate this,” she whispers to me. “Dancing for all these people. It makes me sick to my stomach…”
I rub my thumb along her back slowly as we dance. “Why?” I ask her. “You’ve made it clear you’re in for the long haul with this. So, why dancing? Why does that get you?”
Rosalie squeezes my hand tighter for a moment. “You wouldn’t understand.”
