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The call lasted longer than expected, and it took me nearly twenty minutes before I made it back. Vanna wasn’t at the table; instead, Jude stood with his arm around a blonde, no doubt talking her into going somewhere more private with him. The options at these events were limited and usually included the cloakroom or restroom.
Flicking him on his ear, I ignored his outraged howl. “Where is Vanna?”
A wide grin split his face, and he shifted his attention to the dance floor—where my wife was dancing with a preppy-looking boy who didn’t look old enough to drink yet.
Not thinking about what I was about to do, I pushed my way through the dancers. Vanna missed a step when she spotted me and immediately released her dance partner, backing up.
Ignoring the weak protests of the guy, I took his place, pulling my wife in to me, sighing in relief at having her close. “Didn’t anyone ever tell you not to dance with strangers?”
She rolled her eyes. “Then I guess I shouldn’t be dancing with you either, since you’re basically a stranger as well.”
“We’re married.”
But we didn’t know each other.
And whose fault is that?
Her breasts pressed against my chest with her heavy exhale. I gathered her closer, her body molding to mine. She tipped her head back, her haunted eyes finding mine. “On paper only.”
The urge to take away the pain I saw in her expression made me stop in the middle of the dance floor. “You know this wasn’t my decision. Our families signed the contract a long time ago. The last thing I wanted was a wife.”
She flinched, then let out a strangled laugh. “Glad we’re on the same page.”
Regret followed my hastily spoken words.
While I might not have wanted the marriage, I didn’t resent it anymore. I was still conflicted, but I no longer wanted to drink myself into oblivion at the thought of being married.
But we’d started out so badly that I didn’t know if I could ever make it up to her. And since I continued to make things worse, we might never get to a place where we would be anything but acquaintances.
I continued dancing, knowing once we stopped, I had no more reason to touch her. And I didn’t want to stop. She moved with me, letting me guide her, hold her. She’d clearly had dancing lessons at some point, her steps sure, her movements elegant.
Usually, I avoided the dance floor, but today I didn’t want to leave. And the only reason I stopped after a blissful hour of feeling Vanna’s body move against mine was because I felt her steps slow.
I didn’t typically feel the need to take care of someone. But I wanted to for her. I walked her to a cluster of couches off to the side of the room.
Vanna gave me an amused grin as the couple who’d occupied the seats sprinted past us after I shot them a glare. She sank into the cushions with a relieved sigh. I waved a waiter over and ordered a glass of water and scotch.
“What if I wanted something else?” she asked.
“Then you can have it after you finish your glass of water. You need to hydrate first.”
She looked at her lap, the corners of her mouth tipped up. “Bossy.”
I leaned in, enjoying the heady scent of her shampoo. “You have no idea.”
The waiter returning stopped me from doing something I couldn’t take back. Like kiss her.
We sipped on our drinks in silence, watching the room. Or rather, Vanna watched the room, and I watched her.
She put her empty glass down. “So, what’s the purpose of the party?”
I was surprised she didn’t know. This was an annual art show that usually attracted the elite of Chicago. There were paintings all over the room.
“You’ve never been?” I didn’t hide the surprise in my voice. Aleksándr came most years.
“I wasn’t allowed to go out much.” She let out a sad laugh. “It might corrupt me.”
Before I had a chance to ask her what she meant, her father appeared in front of us, two of his men at his side. “There are the newlyweds.”
