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“Some folks are going to Le Palace to celebrate. Are you in? C’mon, Jett, you must!”

He looked good. She had been slightly worried about him lately, his cold lingering for a bit too long, but his eyes were shining, his complexion less pale, and he had had an amazing night, their chemistry and years of dancing together on full display.

“I’ll go, absolutely. Who else is coming?”

Juliette took his arm and waved to Francesca, who was deep in conversation with Lalande and some people Juliette had greeted but whose names she cared not to remember.

“I guess you will just have to wait and see, darlin’.”

He got them a taxi surprisingly quickly for all the hullabaloo surrounding The Meurice tonight, and before she knew it, the driver was opening her door in front of Le Palace.

A club with an unspoken predilection for a certain clientele, this was, above all, a safe place. The drinks were flowing and the dance floor was chock-full of ballerinas. Yeah, a jumping Le Palace meant only one thing: It was a successful opening night at Paris Opera Ballet.

It was a tradition of sorts to come here after a good performance, and it explained why Juliette had missed the club as much as she did. They really had not had an occasion to go dancing at Le Palace lately.

But tonight was different. Gabriel handed her a glass of something brown, the ice clicking in the small tumbler, and Juliette threw caution to the wind. She downed the contents in one gulp, what turned out to be whiskey sliding down her throat like honey, and then they were on the dance floor.

Around them, the bodies moved to the rhythm of a tune she did not recognize, yet it was driving the dancers to a frenzy.

Her body loose after three hours of performing, Juliette let go. She took off her shoes and allowed herself to simply be in the moment.

She had so much to deal with once this night was over, chiefly among them Katarina, who had disappeared off the face of the earth after they made their way to the after-party. Juliette would have to be brave there. Daring, even. She hadn’t been surprised Katarina ran. After all, she was many things, but foolish wasn’t one of them. Whatever it was that scared her—and Juliette assumed it was the moment they had shared on stage—they’d have to talk about. And if Juliette had to be the one to pin her down and finally broach the subject, so be it.

Images of pinning Katarina—to a wall, to a bed—made Juliette dizzy. Hot. Wanting. She shook her head, trying to dislodge thoughts of translucent skin and long naked limbs under her own mouth from her mind, but the whiskey was making her bold, hungry. The beat of the bass was like a throb in her blood, and she moved unbidden to it.

Gabriel was in and out of her line of sight, both of them swapping partners several times before reuniting and then splitting again. He brought her another glass and Juliette threw it back gamely. She’d pay for it later, but she’d be paying for so many things, what was one more?

She had danced with Monique, who seemed to be in Le Palace alone, and despite their differences, their past entanglements allowed them to have the time of their lives.When Monique spun her around and then into the arms of a stranger, a tall, lean, and muscular woman with an intriguing face and quick feet, Juliette thought she’d seen something in her peripheral vision. Someone. But the woman winked at her, took her hand, and spun her again, giving Juliette a pleasant little buzz, before bringing her close to her body.

The rhythm changed, slowed down, became a heartbeat, and the heady lighting, the cigarette smoke was making Juliette lightheaded.

The woman was gorgeous. Tall, strong, clearly interested, not Juliette’s usual type but breathtakingly handsome with those immense eyes, and yet… These weren’t the blue ones Juliette craved to have looking at her with this much interest, with this much desire. In fact, the same amount of interest and desire they’d looked at her with during their pas de deux.

Ah, Katarina, you liar… All these months… All these useless pretenses…

They swayed, their bodies bumping into each other, and it just felt wrong. These were not the curves and angles Juliette had gotten used to being around for the past months, dancing with, moving with.

Lightheaded, slightly disoriented in the darkness and the smoke, Juliette caught the decidedly invitational smirk on the woman’s lips as they came close to hers, and she turned away. She smiled sadly and shook her head.

“Désolée, chérie. But I will be going home alone tonight.” She caressed the chiseled jaw and the stranger bit her finger gently.

“Are you certain?”

Juliette merely nodded and dropped her hand.

“Whoever she is, the one who has you in knots, better be amazing.” The stranger swayed her tenderly now on the bustling dance floor, ignoring the rapid music.

Juliette stopped, her thoughts in disarray and the club no longer cozy or welcoming. It was suffocating. She touched her sternum before murmuring, “She is.”

Any other day, any other year, God, any other lifetime, Juliette would turn back and offer a hand to this stranger. Offer her much more than a hand. A bed, a body, an orgasm.

But she knew that none of this would be possible for her anytime soon. There was only one body she wanted. Only one person she craved to be near.

Katarina…

The universe surely was a perverse creature. The moment the name popped into her mind, that very something that had distracted her earlier when she’d stepped onto the dance floor crystalized, and with a sharp turn to her left, Juliette was met with the cold stare of a pair of angry eyes. Eyes that could belong to only one person.

Katarina.