I hang my head. “Pathetic, isn’t it?”
“Nah.” Her tone softens. “Just… complicated.”
The live band strikes up a new tune. Suddenly the buzz in the room shifts. Conversations die down, and all eyes turn to either Antoine or me.
Isabelle’s voice cuts through the air. “And now, the bride and groom’s first dance!”
Just what I needed—another awkward moment broadcast on national TV.
Antoine walks up to me, his hand extended. “Shall we?”
Do I have a choice?
I glance at the dance floor where the crowd has opened a path for us.
Nope, I don’t.
I take his hand, and he leads me to the center of the room. I brace myself for an ordeal. My only consolation is that the song being played is rhythmic enough that we don’t have to slow dance.
“Can you dance LeRoc?” Antoine asks.
“Yes. Can you?”
He smiles. “You’ll find out.”
Before I can reply, he spins me into position. We begin to move in a rather unexpectedly harmonious way. The four-beat LeRoc, still popular in France, is not a sensual dance—not even close. It’s all quick steps, sharp turns, and precise movements. Antoine leads with confidence, his hand firm on my back, as he guides me through each twist and spin. I can’t believe how easyit is to do this technical dance with him like we’ve practiced it a hundred times before.
“Not bad,” I breathe out after he catches my hand and spins me under his arm.
“Likewise.”
The crowd claps in rhythm, cheering as we pick up speed. I focus on the steps, trying not to trip over my dress. Antoine keeps me on track, his hand brushing my waist now and then as he steadies me. His touch is gentle. Not lingering, not invasive. Just enough to guide me. And every time his hand meets mine or lightly presses against my back, I feel a tingle of something… strange.
Comfort? Confidence?Whatever it is, it’s unsettling.
“You’re really good at this,” I admit as he spins me again.
He catches me and pulls me back into step. “You sound surprised.”
“I am.”
The rhythm picks up again, and we fall back into the dance, moving in sync as the crowd claps louder. For a moment, I forget the cameras, the awkwardness, the tension. Antoine’s piercings glint in the bright light of the chandeliers. He leads without hesitation, his sharp eyes fixed on mine.
On the last notes of the song, Antoine dips me low. Normally, I’d tense up, afraid of falling, but his hand is so firm on my back that I just laugh and enjoy the stunt. He holds me like this for a brief moment. I hold my breath, his face close enough that his stubble grazes my cheek. The crowd erupts in cheers and applause. I’m so caught up in our feat I barely register it.
“Still surprised?” Antoine pulls me upright.
My heart racing, I draw back. “Yes, but don’t let it go to your head.”
“Never.” He steps aside and gestures toward the edge of the dance floor. “Shall we flee before they demand an encore?”
“Gladly.”
As we make our way to the bar, I do my best to ignore that I lied. I was having too much fun, and what I really wanted was to stay and dance another, and another, and another. Until exhausted.
CHAPTER NINE
LAURA
