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After what feels like my millionth introduction, Damon’s fingertips trace a trail of fire down my spine over the silk fabric, lingering at the curve of my lower back. He nods toward the back of the grand hall, where a live band plays and couples twirl gracefully across the checkered dance floor. I know the dance, the elegant steps drilled into me by my parents, always desperate to fit in with this high-society crowd that we could never truly belong to.
I struggle to breathe as my eyes are glued to the sheer opulence of it all. The place is practically a palace dripping with money, screaming at me that I’m the one that stands out. Suddenly, I wish I’d done what Damon’s mother wanted. That I’d kept the soft blonde hair and pastel dresses. My fingers tug at my collar, desperately trying to pull the neckline up.
Damon’s lips press against my temple, staying there until my heart rate slows. “Do me the honor and dance with me?”
“You’re kidding. We’re already drawing attention.”
“I assure you, I’m not kidding.” He trails his fingers down my neck, running the thin strap between his fingers. “Half those men wrongfully think they can take you from me. I want them to see my wife in my arms. I want them to know you’re mine.”
The air is pushed from my lungs as he sweeps me into his arms, easily joining us in time with the other dancers. The dance is fast and full of turns, but Damon expertly guides me through it. His sure movements take the lead, making it easy to follow.
His heartbeat pounding against the hand on his chest is the only thing giving away how he’s feeling. I gaze up, expecting his expression to be pinched, closed off from the crowd quickly gathering around us, but I’m captured by his piercing gaze. The room shrinks around us as the air grows thick. His deep cologne fills my nose and makes my head grow fuzzy. He sweeps his thumb over the bare skin at the nape of my neck, then runs his knuckles down my spine until they graze the curve of my ass. I shiver. The simple touch has me wanting more. His arm around my waist tugs me closer until there’s no room left between us. I rest my head on his chest, eyes closed, trusting him to guide us through the spins and twirls.
An overwhelming feeling of being wanted, accepted, fills my chest. One that I’d never expect to feel in a place like this. But Damon’s touch, his breath against my neck, his firm arm banded around my back, allows me to finally exhale. I’m safe in this world, as long as I’m with him. For however long this lasts. The thought has pain piercing my chest at the reminder this is all temporary. That I’m not really his wife, that this is all to fulfill his obligation and to get my visa. An act that I unwillingly started to believe.
I lift my head from his chest, but he squeezes the nape of my neck and says, “Just a little longer. I’m not ready to let you go.”
My fingers dig into his tux, wanting it to mean so much more.
Eventually, the song ends, and a familiar face approaches us. He looks like a younger version of Damon, only his cocky smile separating them.
He gives me a playful bow. “May I have the next dance?”
“Watch it, Xander.” Damon’s voice is sharp with warning.
“Oh, come on, man. I’ve barely had time with my new sister,” Xander replies easily, not worrying about the dark stare Damon’s bearing on him.
I need to stop this before it escalates in front of everyone. “I’d love to dance.”
Damon’s hold tightens, and I smile up at him. “We’re married, remember? People expect me to be close with your brothers.”
His gaze narrows, searching my face before he lets me go. “I’ll be right over there.”
“She’ll be fine. Relax.” Xander is already pulling me toward him, ignoring his older brother’s death glare. “Plus, you have business to handle.” He looks into the crowd, where three gentlemen stand watching.
Damon finally lets go of my hand. “One dance.”
Laughter bubbles in my chest at his possessiveness, even when it’s his brother.
I look over my shoulder as Xander leads me further onto the floor. “Don’t be jealous.”
The side of Damon’s mouth quirks up. “You like me jealous.”
His words zing through me because he’s right.
“You two need to stop looking at each other like that before this party turns into an orgy with the energy you’re putting off.” Xander spins me, but unlike Damon, he keeps several inches between us, and his hand is respectfully placed on my upper back.
I can feel my cheeks burn, but I ignore his baiting words. “So, are you looking for a wife too?”
A bark of laughter escapes him. “No. Do I seem like someone who wants to be tied down?”
With his mischievous smile and gleaming eyes, he really doesn’t. Unease fills my chest, knowing that soon he wouldn’t have a choice. “I’m sorry about your grandfather.”
His head tilts to the side, still moving in time with the beat. “Why?”
My brows pinch in confusion. “Because he’s going to make you get married.”
Xander’s eyes twinkle with some unshared secret. “Ah, yes. The Everette tradition. How could I forget about that?”
