19. Chiara #3
“One song?” I pretend to consider his offer while matching his next step. “That hardly seems worth leaving the display for.”
“We can negotiate another.” He changes direction to avoid a couple coming toward us, keeping us in time. “Assuming I make a good impression.”
“You’re doing well so far.” I stop trying to anticipate every step and let myself enjoy the movement. It’s easier when I’m paying attention to him instead of wondering what the people near the tables think.
“Only so far?” He extends our next turn just enough to make my skirt sweep around my legs. “I thought that deserved something more enthusiastic.”
“You’re enjoying this.” I can’t keep the pleasure out of the accusation. I like him confident enough to tease me. I like that he wants me to notice him.
“Very much.” His answer comes before we’ve completed the turn, and I feel the warmth of it all the way through the next few steps.
We turn past another couple, and I catch a glimpse of Rosalia at the edge of the courtyard, watching us with an expression of poorly concealed delight. She gives me a small wave before returning to her work. I’m glad she can see me enjoying myself.
“I’ve decided.” I lift my chin enough to speak near his ear, taking advantage of a slower passage in the music. “You look very handsome.”
“Thank you.” He misses half a step, then recovers before we lose the rhythm. The small mistake pleases me more than his perfect turns.
“Was that the impression you were trying to make?” I have to wait until I stop laughing to finish the question. “Because I liked that one.”
“Then I should stop practicing.” He adjusts our course around the edge of the floor. “Apparently I’m more convincing when you catch me off guard.”
“Sometimes.” I stay close after the turn, quite deliberately. I don’t want him wondering whether that was an accident.
The music swells around us, and I let myself feel it, the movement of our bodies together, the pleasure of being held by someone who knows how I like to be held.
For weeks, every good moment has come with a question about what it means.
Can I have this one without deciding the rest of my life? His next step takes us toward the musicians, and I follow because I’m enjoying it.
“I’d like another song.” I make the request before the musicians can finish this one. “If you’re still negotiating.”
“As many as you want.” He keeps us moving through the last passage instead of steering us toward the edge of the floor. “Dinner tomorrow, too, if you’ll let me choose the music.”
“Still campaigning for that?” I remember leaving his table two nights ago amused instead of hurt. “All right. But I’m allowed an opinion.”
“I was counting on it.” He draws back just enough to give my skirt room as we turn. I like that he has stopped treating disagreement as the end of a good evening.
The music begins to slow. We finish the waltz and stay for the next song, while some of the other couples return to their tables. When that song ends too, Rosalia applauds the musicians, joined by the guests nearest her.
Lorenzo offers me his arm as we leave the dance floor. I could tell him he looked handsome more often. That missed step was worth it.
“I want to get out of this courtyard.” I take his arm as we leave the floor. “Somewhere quieter.”
“The garden terrace.” He nods toward the stone archway at the edge of the courtyard. “It’ll be cooler, but quieter.”
I retrieve my wrap from the stool behind the display, the dark blue silk warm against my bare shoulders, and let him lead me through the arch into the garden beyond.
The noise of the gala fades behind us as we follow the path toward the low wall overlooking the valley. The fountain is visible in the darkness, its soft splash a counterpoint to the distant music still playing in the courtyard.
We stop at the terrace’s edge, where we can see lights from the houses down in the valley. The air is cold but not biting. I rest my forearms on the wall beside his, glad of the wrap.
“I’m not ready to promise I’ll stay.” I make myself finish before I can settle for another evening of leaving him to guess. “Permanently, I mean. I want you to understand that before I ask you something.”
“All right.” He waits beside me. The music carries across the garden while he gives me time to say it.
“But I don’t want to leave tonight.” I turn toward him. “I want to go upstairs with you. I’d like to find out how tomorrow feels when we don’t have to arrange a visit first.”
His smile starts before I’ve finished, and he makes no attempt to hide it. “I’d like that.” He leaves the wall and offers his hand. “I’d like that very much.”
I step closer, closing the distance between us until I can feel his breath against my hair. His free hand comes up to cup my jaw, tilting my face toward his, and I let him see how much I want this too.
“Take me home.” I lean into his touch. “I want to go home with you tonight.”
He kisses me, and I forget the cold until the wrap slips from one shoulder. I catch it before it falls. We have a room upstairs; I’d rather kiss him there.
I take his hand and lead him toward the main house.