This is dangerous,some part of me whispers.This is how you get hurt.
But the rest of me doesn’t care.
The music shifts into something slower and more intimate. The other couples on the floor drift closer together, and Mal adjusts our hold to match—his arm wrapping more fully around my waist, my head resting against his shoulder.
“Isadora,” he says softly.
“Hmm?”
“Thank you.”
“For what?”
“For this. For asking me. For—” He pauses, and I feel his chest expand with a deep breath. “For trusting me even when I haven’t given you any reason to.”
I pull back enough to look at his face. In the warm glow of the chandeliers, he looks almost normal—just a man at a party with his date, enjoying a dance. Almost.
“You’re going to tell me everything,” I say. “You promised.”
“I know.”
“Tonight.”
“Yes.”
“And then?”
His hand tightens on my waist. “And then you’ll decide if you want to keep dancing with me.”
Something in his voice makes my chest ache—that vulnerability again, peeking through the cracks of his charm. He’s afraid, I realize. Afraid of what I’ll think. Afraid of what I’ll do.
Afraid I’ll leave.
“Mal.” I wait until his eyes meet mine. “Whatever you tell me, it’s not going to change the fact that I asked you here tonight.”
“You don’t know what I’m going to tell you.”
“No. But I know who you’ve shown me.” I reach up, tracing my fingers along his jaw. “That’s the part that matters.”
He stares at me for a long moment. Then something in his expression shifts and softens.
“You’re remarkable,” he says. “Do you know that?”
“I’m practical.”
“Remarkably practical.” He turns his head, pressing a kiss to my palm. “And far too good for the likes of me.”
“Probably.”
He laughs, low and warm. The music is winding down. Around us, couples are separating, drifting toward the edges of the floor. But neither of us moves.
“One more dance,” he says. “Before we face reality.”
“The quartet might not?—”
“They will.”
He lifts his hand slightly, a subtle gesture, and the music swells again. The same melody, repeated, as if the quartet never intended to stop. I don’t ask how he did it. Instead, I settle back into his arms, let him lead me through another waltz, and try to memorize every detail of this moment.
