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“Viennese waltz,” Grayden muses, glancing at the orchestra gathered in the corner. I didn’t even notice the DJ leaving, but I guess he was there only for the duration of dinner. “Ready?”
“It’s been a while but yeah,” I confirm, then take a deep, steadying breath.
Grayden faces me, the right side of his body close to mine. I straighten my back and relax my shoulders. While my chin should be parallel to the floor, I allow myself to lift it slightly, so I can look into his eyes. His left hand gently holds my right, extending it upward. Because he’s rather tall, I put my left hand on his arm. My breath hitches when he puts his on my waist. He smirks and lowers it another inch or two.
Grayden begins the count to catch the rhythm. “One, two, three. Two, two, three. Three, two, three. Four, two, three.”
And then we’re flying, the strains of the Viennese Waltz enveloping us, cocooning us in its timeless elegance. My hand nestled delicately in his, his touch sending a thrill through me despite the knowledge that our relationship is nothing more than a charade. But in this moment, as the rest of the room fades away, it doesn’t matter.
His strong lead guides me effortlessly across the floor, each step a testament to the trust that we share in this dance. The world around us dissolves into a blur of colors and lights, leaving only the two of us spinning in perfect harmony. With each turn, I feel myself surrendering to the rhythm, losing myself in the music and the closeness we share.
His dark eyes meet mine, and for a fleeting moment, I forget about the facade we are upholding. In that brief exchange, there’s a silent understanding, a connection that transcends our fabricated reality. As the waltz reaches its crescendo, I find myself wishing that this moment could last forever, suspended in time where it’s just him and me, dancing in our own little world.
All too soon, the song comes to an end, its last notes echoing through the ballroom. We stop and Grayden takes a step back, the lack of his touch a painful absence on my skin. Without taking his eyes off me, he executes a perfect bow. I smile and curtsy in response.
The entire ballroom erupts into deafening applause. Startled, I tear my eyes off his and look around. Without realizing it, we were the only couple left on the dance floor as the rest of the guests formed a circle around us. Smiling faces surround us, people clapping and nodding in approval.
I avert my gaze to the floor, self-conscious at all the attention we’re getting. My cheeks burn and I want nothing more but to dig a hole for me to hide in.
Grayden’s reaction is the exact opposite. He’s a born performer, gloating in the spotlight. He smiles and bows at the crowd before pointing at me and joining their clapping for the longest of moments. He moves to stand next to me, wrapping his arm around my waist. I’m grateful for his stable presence, and for his unwavering support as he guides us off the dance floor.
“I think we should call it a night and return to our room,” he says with a low, thick voice.
My toes curl in my high-heeled shoes at all the possibilities that might bring. Unable to form words, the only way I can think of replying is to pick up a pace to get to the elevators as soon as possible.
Our connection is crazy in public. I can’t even dare to imagine how off the charts it can get once we’re alone.
I might need another glass of wine to loosen up...to loosen him up...
CHAPTER 8
Helia
Neither one of us says a word during what must be the longest elevator ride of my life. Grayden doesn’t let go of my hand, rubbing his thumb against the palm of my hand in slow, sensual movements.
Without letting go of my hand, he pulls out his keycard from his suit’s inside pocket. A quick scan, a high beep, and we’re in.
The flowery scent fills my nostrils, bringing a smile to my lips. I still can’t believe the level of thoughtfulness Grayden portrayed. Even now, he’s going straight into the bedroom, leaving the door open between the living room for me to see him, and taking the bottle of champagne out of the ice bucket.
“I’m surprised it didn’t melt,” I muse. We’ve been gone for several hours, and yet, the bottle isn’t dripping.
“They came to replace it,” he says without missing a beat. “I wanted it cold and refreshing for when we came back.”
“Oh,” I breathe and smile as he gestures for me to join him on the sofa.
“There are two glasses by the vase behind you,” he says as he peels away the protection around the bottle’s opening.
I turn around, and true to his word, the two champagne glasses are where he said they’d be. I take them and hold them in my lap, waiting for him to finish opening the champagne.
“Here we go,” Grayden announces, his beautiful dark eyes locking onto mine as a slow grin appears on his face.
Grayden manages to keep any of the liquid spilling from the bottle, carefully controlling the pressure. With a muffled pop, the champagne opens. I hold out the glasses and he fills them both up to the brim.
“To us!” Grayden says, lifting his glass to mine. “The best fake couple that ever existed.”
“Definitely the one with the most chemistry, too,” I joke, then quickly bite my lip, realizing that I’ve said it out loud. I must be a little more buzzed than I thought.
“And sexual tension,” Grayden replies without missing a beat, a sparkle in his dark eyes.
