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The warmth of his palm against mine made my stomach tighten, though I told myself it was just the wine—or the strangeness of the night. But deep down, I knew better. I loved this man, and whenever he was near, the butterflies in my stomach turned riotous.
“Dante”—I glanced at him suspiciously—“what are you doing?”
He pulled me closer. “Dancing with my wife.”
His hand slid to the small of my back as his other held mine firmly. We moved in easy, fluid steps. I hadn’t danced in ages—certainly not with him—but somehow, we fell into a rhythm like we had done this a hundred times before.
The quartet transitioned to a romantic waltz, the soft and unhurriedTi Voglio Tanto Bene. The song’s gentle melody weaved through the air, drawing couples closer as though the rest of the world had faded away.
It was intimate, a bit too intimate for a couple on the verge of a divorce.
I tilted my head slightly. “You don’t usually dance with me.”
“We dance when we’re at parties.”
“No. You usually dance with Lucia.” The words didn’t sound quite so accusatory and sharp in my head as they did when they came out of my mouth.
Dante’s expression shifted just enough for me to catch a flicker of guilt. “That was an oversight,” he said quietly. “One of many.”
“Are these the fuck-ups you’ve been talking about lately?”
He didn’t answer right away. Instead, he kept his eyes on me as he spun us slowly, the soft scent of the vineyard in the air and the warm glow of the lanterns flickering in his eyes.
“I’ve made mistakes, Elysa,” he admitted finally. “A lot of them. But I’m trying to…see things clearly now.”
I didn’t know what to do with that. Dante wasn’t the kind of man who apologized, but he’d been doing it a lot these past days. And now, holding me in his arms, he looked at me like he meant every word.
It made my chest ache.
“What kind of game are you playing, Dante?”
His brow furrowed. “None.”
“Then what is it?” I pressed. “Because I don’t trust this. I don’t trust you.”
His grip on my waist tightened slightly, though his steps didn’t falter. “I don’t blame you.”
I didn’t know how to respond to that either, so I looked away, focusing instead on the couples around us.
My father was talking with some business associates near the edge of the courtyard, barely sparing a glance at the dance floor. Luca was entertaining his mother and a few others. I scanned the room and realized I hadn’t seen Lucia all evening.
Was she not here?
When the song ended, Dante didn’t immediately release me. His hand lingered on my waist, his eyes searching mine for something I wasn’t willing to give.
“Thank you for the dance,bella mia.”
I stepped back, putting distance between us, and forced a tight smile. “I need a drink.”
Without waiting for his response, I walked toward the bar, my heels clicking sharply against the stone. My pulse was unsteady, my thoughts a tangled mess. Dante was up to something, but for the life of me, I couldn’t figure out what it was.
SEVENTEEN
Dante
Istood near the edge of the courtyard, nursing a glass of Barolo that I hadn’t tasted in ten minutes. My eyes locked on Elysa, twirling in Luca Carrera’s arms.
She laughed, her head tilted back slightly. She looked…free and light, like a woman with no weight on her shoulders.