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Unable to see her reaction, I cross my fingers that I’m not pushing things too far. What if she just walks away? Leaves me on the dancefloor alone?

It feels like an eternity has passed when one of her hands snakes around my waist to press on my lower stomach, dragging me in closer to her body, and it makes me want to punch the air in excitement.

Her breath is warm by my ear and I lean my head back on her shoulder briefly.

“Are you a little bit gay, little darlin’?” Her voice is a sexy growl. I love when she calls me ‘little darlin’. Her deep, rough voice shaping the gentle words just for me gives me butterflies.

“Only for you,” I respond, turning my head slightly so our breath mingles between our dangerously close mouths. I can’t see her reaction, but I hear her sharp inhalation and she keeps moving with me, touching me.

Her splayed hand hasn’t moved from my lower stomach and I curse the leather of my skirt that is preventing me from feeling her skin on mine. As it is, her hand may as well be on fire, the heat from it is setting me alight.

She finally spins me around whenshe calls me daddyby KING MALA begins to play. I giggle to myself remembering how Elio accused me of ‘running to mummy’ when Giovanna stood up for me.

“What are you laughing about?” She tightens her grip on my waist and I wind my arms around her neck. Our chests press together and even though two bras and our tops separate us, the feeling of our breasts pushed together is possibly the single most erotic thing I have ever experienced.

“The song just reminds me of Elio saying I ran to ‘mummy’, but you’re probably more of a ‘daddy’ to be honest.” I blurt it out and then duck my head into her shoulder in horror. Her shoulders begin to shake as she laughs.

“That sounded weird,” I squeal, pulling my head back to look at her with an embarrassed grimace on my face. “Oh god, just forget I said it!”

The words keep tumbling out of my mouth and I immediately want to scoop them back up, but Giovanna’s eyes darken and she doesn’t seem weirded out.

It’s her turn to drop her head and she rests her mouth against my neck for just a second, groaning, “You are trouble. So so much trouble.”

We dance for another song or two, but our movements become less and less sexual. It is like reminding herself of how much trouble I am has broken the spell and she pulls away.

“I need to stop now, Francesca,” she forces out eventually.

“What’s wrong?” I ask, taking in her furrowed brow and tortured expression. Our faces are so close I could just lean up and kiss her. Instead, I give in to my earlier temptation and trace a finger over the scar in her eyebrow, waiting for her to respond.

“We just can’t…” She is struggling to find the words to express herself. I don’t want to push, but I desperately want to know how she feels.

“Give me a song,” I say as softly as I can with all the noise surrounding us. “Remember how you’d say that to us? Give me a song, Giovanna.”

She presses her forehead against mine and makes a humming noise as she thinks. We stand like that, barely moving, for what feels like ages. I’m just about to give her an out when she leans back and with eyes smouldering with an emotion I can’t pinpoint, says: “Iris.”

“Iris?” I repeat.Who is Iris?

“Yeah, the - Dolls,” she elaborates. The music gets louder and I can’t quite make out the name of the band.

“Huh?”Did she seriously say The Pussycat Dolls? Was one of them called Iris?

A sad smile dances across her face and she shakes her head. “Nevermind, darlin’. Thanks for the dance.” She takes my hand and leads me off the dancefloor back towards her mates.

“What the fuck, G!” A particularly outgoing woman dressed similarly to Giovanna exclaims. “Where have you been hiding this babe?”

She gives me a big suggestive wink.

“Don’t be a fuckin’ pest, Azra,” Giovanna punches her in the upper arm hard enough to hurt, but her tone is joking.

Azra is undeterred and directs her comments to me, “Hey beautiful, what are you doing wasting your time with this grumpy old woman?”

Giovanna scowls and rolls her eyes. She’s let my hand go and I hate how empty it leaves me feeling. I want to snatch it back and have her symbolically brand me as hers.

“She’s engaged to my brother, dickhead.” Giovanna retorts flatly.

And there it is. Reality, that bastard.

Azra’s eyes bug out of her head and she looks from me and back to Giovanna as if trying to see if we are taking the piss. “Which one? Does he let anyone dance with her like that or are youse just keeping it in the family?”