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I look up to find who could have asked me that. There’s no way Theo Monroe dances. Or me. My mom wasn’t lying. “You dance?”
“I’ve been known to a time or two. Up we go.” He stands, offers me his hand, and escorts me to the floor. I’m a little wobbly from the heels and the champagne. Tingles run up my spine when the palm of his hand rests on my lower back and he brings me closer.
“I don’t know how to dance,” I admit looking up at him from under my lashes.
He tugs me closer. “I’ll go slow. Follow my lead.” The symphony plays as I stare down at his feet.
“Look at me.”
“I can’t. I need to follow your—”
“Look up at me.” And I do. His steely voice has become my weakness. His eyes are fire, heating me through to my core. “Dancing is a partnership. You follow better if you look at your partner. You can read my patterns and move rhythmically. See, there you go.”
My eyes stay locked on his, and song after song, we dance. When I’m not sure my feet can take another song in these heels, Theo escorts us away.
“That was amazing. I never knew how. . .”
“Beautiful it can be.”
He surprises me with his interpretation. “How do you know how to dance like this?”
“Forced lessons growing up. But I really began to love it in France when I was with. . .” He stalls for a moment as if he were about to reveal something personal. “A friend. . . who taught me. Ready for another drink?” There’s a slight shift in his manner, and we hold our gaze until I nod, and we exit the dance floor.
The remainder of the evening is spent making small talk, listening to boring business chatter, and drinking copious amounts of champagne. I excuse myself, finding a nook outside on the terrace to gather my thoughts. I feel like I’m out with two different men. The asshole and the gentleman. There’s no way they can be the same person. Theo is ruthless and, well, rude. But this man tonight. . . Imposter Theo is kind and stirs up emotions I’m not sure I want to think about. It has to be the champagne. I’m going to blame itstrictlyon the champagne.
“Here you are.” Theo’s voice has me turning away from the balcony. All the champagne I’ve consumed makes me lose my balance at the sudden movement. He’s there, wrapping his arm around my waist and saving me again. “Are you alright?” There’s worry in his tone.
“Yeah, sorry. Just tired and maybe overdid the bubbly.”
“You were supposed to save me there.”
I can’t help but bask in the warmth of his hold. “The conversation seemed to be getting intense. I thought I would give you two your privacy.”
“Ah, says the nosy little assistant who went through my call log.”
Ugh. I thought we were past that little slip-up. “I’m not sure what you’re—”
“I told you. I don’t like liars, Fay.”
I pull away. “Okay, fine. I snooped. I wanted to know what made you so upset and shut down. Who was it?”
“I also prefer my privacy. Now, it seems like the night is dwindling. MIC has always been one of their top donators, so they comp me the penthouse suite for the evening. You should take it.”
“Oh, no. I can go home.”
“I insist.” His hand presses against my lower back, and he escorts us through the luxury hotel lobby. We’re quiet while we take the elevator to the private floor. A million opportunities arise for me to stop and insist he take me home. It would give us extra time together so I can ask the damn questions that have been simmering in my mind all night. Why did he bring me instead of her? Does he feel this constant buzz between us? And if so, what the hell do we do about it?
We stop at the suite’s double doors, and he swipes a card. I step inside and turn around, but he doesn’t move.
“I don’t need to stay here. You can take me home.”
“No. Enjoy the room. You deserve it.” His words say one thing, but his eyes tell another tale.
A tremor of desire flows through me. I tuck my clutch under my arm and slightly pop my hip. “Want to at least come in for a nightcap? I’m sure the mini bar is filled with those really expensive bottles.”
His eyes gleam with humor, but he holds back. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.” The last thing either of us wants is a nightcap. The booze I’ve already consumed gives me the boldness I need to ask for what I really want. And that’s him. The way he’s looking at me right now, he may be saying no, but everything else about him wants to say yes.
I lift my hand and tug the tie at the back of my neck free. My dress falls in waves to my feet, leaving me bare except for my black lace thong. I breathe steadily and reply, “I think it would be a very good idea.”
