Page 74 of Be Still My Unbeating Heart

“You’re good. Stiff, though. You need to loosen up. Give in. Let go.”

“I suppose some people find that difficult.”

Bastian broke De Luca’s lead momentarily to twirl. “You only have to let go once, Inspector. If you hold on, you have to hold on every day.”

De Luca rolled his eyes as he retook the lead, but he was smiling, too. “What does that even mean?”

“It means being in the moment is the only way to live.”

De Luca looked around at the other dancers. “It’s not so easy for some people to just let go.”

“Sure,” Bastian agreed. “People have responsibilities. Jobs, and others who depend on them. Or they’re afraid of what others might think of them if theydidlet go. It makes them vulnerable. Open to judgment and criticism.”

De Luca’s eyes glittered at him with surprise.

“You see, I do listen to you, De Luca. You may be wearing a mask, but I have some idea what’s under it.”

De Luca missed a step and quickly righted himself.

They glided across the floor, and De Luca’s palm felt clammy in Bastian’s hand. He wore that same expression he’d worn ever since Bastian met him. Jaw tensed with restraint, eyes shining with the desire to break free. He cast self-conscious looks at the other dancers, as if expecting one of them to reprimand him for having fun when two people had been killed in less than twenty-four hours.

Perhapsthatwas what was holding De Luca back. It must have been difficult for De Luca to follow in his father’s footsteps. Martyrs tended to cast long shadows.

“You know, darling,” Bastian said, “sometimes you have to let go of the idea people have of you. Whatever impression people have about you, they’re often wrong. At least, that’s what I’ve found.”

“How so?”

Bastian raised his gaze to the ceiling, spinning as the music played.

“The eighties weren’t exactly a piece of cake for gay men. A lot of people had an awful lot of opinions about us, and I was alive then, still human, so I cared. You’d think they’d have shown a little compassion, considering what we were going through, and there were some who did, of course…but most didn’t.”

“I’m sorry,” De Luca said. “It must have been terrible.”

“It was. I was angry for a long time.”

De Luca squinted at him. “You keep saying that, but I can’t picture you angry.”

“Because I’m such a ray of sunshine now?” Bastian chuckled. “Oh, believe me, that anger consumed me for more years than I’d like to admit. I took it out on a lot of people. But it’s why I will always choose joy.” A sad smile played on his lips. “That’s what mattered back then, during those terrible times for queer people—the joy that helped us through, and it’s all that matters now. I try to find the joy in every day, because plenty of people never got to have that.”

De Luca was holding him close. Blue light shimmered in his eyes. They spun again, and this time it really was like flying.

“See, De Luca, you’re already loosening up.”

De Luca’s cheeks glowed. They were so close now, Bastian felt the press of De Luca’s hips. Desire flushed through him, so intense that he almost kissed De Luca right there on the dance floor. He wanted to taste him again. To help him let go for good.

But then the song ended.

People stopped dancing to bow and applaud the orchestra.

Bastian clapped, his body trembling with want. De Luca was smiling at him, shy and tentative. His ears were pink and glowing. He looked like he was about to say something, but then his gaze slipped sideways as he looked over Bastian’s shoulder.

Bastian turned to see Whitby standing on an ornate side table by the ballroom door, her tail swishing with agitation.

“She’s found something,” Bastian said. He took De Luca’s hand and pulled him across the dance floor.

“I’ve been trying to get your attention for the past five minutes,” Whitby grumbled.

“Sorry, love. What did you find?”