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Moving me across the dance floor, feeling a bit light-headed, I say, “You are a madman.”
“You know me so well.”
“What do you hope to get from tonight?” I ask, glancing over toward Bryant who is preoccupied in a heated discussion with his men. He isn’t paying attention to even a moment of the dance.
“To see you again.”
“I thought Wonderland was the last time I’d see you,” I admit. “It’s been a couple of weeks and you—”
“Haven’t made a visit?” He interrupts with a smile. “Did you miss me?”
I don’t want to admit just how much I did, but I can’t lie to Nick. “Yes.”
“Besides,” he says. “I have to keep an eye on the woman who could be carrying my baby.”
My face heats at the memory of not only having unprotected sex, but the fact that he and I had both pushed his seed inside of me to…
“No risk of that,” I say.
He raises an eyebrow. “Oh? So sure?”
“A woman has a way of knowing,” I say, not wanting to go into the exact details.
“Maybe we should try again.”
“Nick…”
“Lyriope…”
“We don’t need a baby to add to this mess.”
“Maybe I like messy.”
“Well, I don’t. I want nice and clean and shiny. Sadly, that isn’t in my cards.”
“We could leave right now,” he suggests, the words like balm soothing a burn inside of me.
“And go where? Antarctica? If they found us in Italy, they’ll find us anywhere.”
“I have a yacht ready to sail away with us to the furthest edge of the sea. All you have to say is yes, and we can leave here right now.”
I stop cold in my tracks at the suggestion. Is he truly serious? Run away? Hide again? A yacht?
But we’d be together…
“Keep dancing,” he orders softly to which I obey. “Give no one a reason to grow suspicious.”
“Do you really think it’s as easy as that?” Saying the words becomes a struggle as my throat threatens to close shut. “And why? Why would you want to leave your house, your life, everything? All to hide on a boat in the middle of an ocean.”
“Because you’re mine. And you know it.”
“But the arranged marriage,” I whisper, no longer noticing that I do the steps of the waltz like a robot.
He squeezes me closer, as if trying to calm me without others knowing his intention. Our dance conceals so much already. “Tell me the truth, Lyriope. Is this the life you want? Are you getting what you always dreamed from your father and the Morelli family?”
“No,” I admit. “I’ve considered running away, to be honest. It’s awful. Everything is awful.”
He never once falters in our dance steps, spinning me away, only to pull me close again. “Then run away with me.”
