He held me for a long moment. Then the music started again, and I felt a hand on my shoulder.
"May I cut in?"
Aleksander.
Gabriel stepped back, his face a mask of forced calm, and I saw the look that passed between father and son. Something sharp. Something dangerous. Something that would have to be addressed eventually.
Not tonight.
Aleksander took my hand and led me to the dance floor.
The last dance.
He held me differently than Nathan had—not possessively, but carefully. Like I was something precious. Something he was afraid to break.
"You're beautiful," he said.
"You keep saying that."
"Because it keeps being true."
I looked up at him. His grey eyes were soft, warm, the lines around them deeper than I remembered. He looked tired. Worn. Like he'd been carrying the weight of the world for too long.
"Your sons," I said. "They both love me."
"I know."
"They both want me."
"I know."
"What are we going to do?"
He was quiet for a long moment. The music swelled around us, the strings rising and falling, and I felt the rhythm of his steps, the steady beat of his heart.
"I don't know," he said. "I've spent my whole life knowing exactly what to do. And now—now I have no idea."
"Aleksander..."
"I love you, Monika." He pulled me closer, his lips at my ear. "I know I shouldn't. I know it's wrong. But I love you. And I can't let you go."
"Then don't."
"Don't what?"
"Don't let me go."
He kissed me. Right there, on the dance floor, in front of everyone. It was not a gentle kiss. It was a claiming—a public declaration that I was his.
When he pulled back, I was breathless.
"I'm not going to share you," he said. "Not with him. Not with anyone."
I didn't answer. I couldn't.
The music ended. The dancers applauded. And I walked off the floor with my heart pounding and my mind racing and the taste of him still on my lips.
The coat closet was dark.
