Though last night she’d been so nervous she’d had enough wine to be tipsy.
They made the rounds through the room, where several times people would stop to speak with Damiano. He always introduced her by name only, and most people seemed curious but didn’t question who she was to Damiano. Though one pretty woman had eyed Rachel with narrowed eyes that were anything but friendly.
Probably one of his girlfriends that I’ve sent breakup flowers to in the past. She gave a small, wry smile as Damiano continued a conversation with a local politician.
“Shall we dance?”
She glanced up, surprised that the man he’d been talking to had disappeared. She glanced toward the dance floor, where couples were indeed swaying to the somewhat schmaltzy music the orchestra was currently playing.
“I’m not sure I’m very good at this sort of dancing.”
“It’s not such a challenge,” he murmured, taking her champagne glass and setting it on a nearby table. “Just move to the music, and if you get nervous, let me do the work.”
When he took her hand and let her onto the floor, she couldn’t find a reason to protest. She wasn’t even sure she wanted to.
He pulled her close, their bodies nearly brushing, with one hand on her waist, and the other holding hers.
It really was exactly as he said, just moving to the light upbeat music, and he was excellent at leading. There was no thinking involved, it was instinctive.
Thinking would’ve been out of the question anyway, with how aware of his touch she was. His fingers seemed to heat through the fabric of her dress and the hand that held hers was so much larger. Stronger.
“It’s not so bad, you see?”
“Not so bad at all,” she agreed, a bit more breathless than she cared.
She made the mistake of lifting her gaze up to meet his. But instead of finding his eyes twinkling with amusement, they were hooded. Dark and contemplative.
Her breath caught and she could feel the blood in her veins quicken. The tiny hairs on her arms lifted as she became all too aware of the little distance between them. How if she just stepped closer, her breasts would brush his chest.
“Are you all right?” Concern flickered in his eyes now. “You’re a bit flushed.”
“I’m...fine.” She nodded and stepped away. “But if you’ll excuse me, I need some air.”
She moved quickly out of the room, finding a door that led to one of the balconies. There was another couple outside, but they left shortly after her arrival.
She walked to a corner and held the railing, staring out into the night. She tried not to think about how it had felt dancing with Damiano, how her body had begun to instinctively react.
She focused instead on the view. It was beautiful out here. High above the glittering lights of the city, and yet hidden in the dark shadows of the building.
It felt a bit like a dream. Or maybe like she’d fallen down the rabbit hole. Was it just this morning that she and Damiano had been laughing and eating sugary baked goods in her Brooklyn apartment? God, she’d completely switched worlds. He likely had been as out of his element then as she was now.
“You must be cold.”
She closed her eyes, not surprised he’d followed her.
“I’m fine.”
But now that he’d mentioned it, she felt the slight chill in the air. The heavy warmth of his tuxedo jacket covered her shoulders a moment later.
“Thank you.” She turned to face him, thinking maybe they should just go back inside. But he was too close, trapping her against the railing.
“We are not so different from your blue collar boys, Dolcezza ,” he said softly, using that word again. He placed his hands on the railing on either side of her. “Where we may seek any dark corner and an opportunity.”
Her heart began to pound. “An opportunity for?”
“For whatever we’re inclined to take.” His head dipped, and his mouth was just above hers.
Dizzy now, and every inch of her body coming right back into
They made the rounds through the room, where several times people would stop to speak with Damiano. He always introduced her by name only, and most people seemed curious but didn’t question who she was to Damiano. Though one pretty woman had eyed Rachel with narrowed eyes that were anything but friendly.
Probably one of his girlfriends that I’ve sent breakup flowers to in the past. She gave a small, wry smile as Damiano continued a conversation with a local politician.
“Shall we dance?”
She glanced up, surprised that the man he’d been talking to had disappeared. She glanced toward the dance floor, where couples were indeed swaying to the somewhat schmaltzy music the orchestra was currently playing.
“I’m not sure I’m very good at this sort of dancing.”
“It’s not such a challenge,” he murmured, taking her champagne glass and setting it on a nearby table. “Just move to the music, and if you get nervous, let me do the work.”
When he took her hand and let her onto the floor, she couldn’t find a reason to protest. She wasn’t even sure she wanted to.
He pulled her close, their bodies nearly brushing, with one hand on her waist, and the other holding hers.
It really was exactly as he said, just moving to the light upbeat music, and he was excellent at leading. There was no thinking involved, it was instinctive.
Thinking would’ve been out of the question anyway, with how aware of his touch she was. His fingers seemed to heat through the fabric of her dress and the hand that held hers was so much larger. Stronger.
“It’s not so bad, you see?”
“Not so bad at all,” she agreed, a bit more breathless than she cared.
She made the mistake of lifting her gaze up to meet his. But instead of finding his eyes twinkling with amusement, they were hooded. Dark and contemplative.
Her breath caught and she could feel the blood in her veins quicken. The tiny hairs on her arms lifted as she became all too aware of the little distance between them. How if she just stepped closer, her breasts would brush his chest.
“Are you all right?” Concern flickered in his eyes now. “You’re a bit flushed.”
“I’m...fine.” She nodded and stepped away. “But if you’ll excuse me, I need some air.”
She moved quickly out of the room, finding a door that led to one of the balconies. There was another couple outside, but they left shortly after her arrival.
She walked to a corner and held the railing, staring out into the night. She tried not to think about how it had felt dancing with Damiano, how her body had begun to instinctively react.
She focused instead on the view. It was beautiful out here. High above the glittering lights of the city, and yet hidden in the dark shadows of the building.
It felt a bit like a dream. Or maybe like she’d fallen down the rabbit hole. Was it just this morning that she and Damiano had been laughing and eating sugary baked goods in her Brooklyn apartment? God, she’d completely switched worlds. He likely had been as out of his element then as she was now.
“You must be cold.”
She closed her eyes, not surprised he’d followed her.
“I’m fine.”
But now that he’d mentioned it, she felt the slight chill in the air. The heavy warmth of his tuxedo jacket covered her shoulders a moment later.
“Thank you.” She turned to face him, thinking maybe they should just go back inside. But he was too close, trapping her against the railing.
“We are not so different from your blue collar boys, Dolcezza ,” he said softly, using that word again. He placed his hands on the railing on either side of her. “Where we may seek any dark corner and an opportunity.”
Her heart began to pound. “An opportunity for?”
“For whatever we’re inclined to take.” His head dipped, and his mouth was just above hers.
Dizzy now, and every inch of her body coming right back into
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