ELEANOR
The night had been going smoothly, and to my surprise, I was actually starting to feel a little comfortable. The room was luxurious in a way that made you forget where you came from-the cool air, the fine tablecloths, the vibrant colors, and the guests who looked like they had never worked a day in their lives. It was overwhelming at first, but after sitting for a while, I let myself relax just a little.
I shouldn’t have.
Just when I thought I could breathe, the organizers announced a dance-a waltz, of all things. Tension gripped me instantly, I didn’t know how to waltz. Hell, I barely knew how to dance in general.
My heart skipped a beat, and I silently prayed they wouldn’t ask us to join.
But then, as if she had been waiting for the right moment, Don Fabio’s wife leaned over and smiled-the kind that said she was about to enjoy watching me squirm.
“You two should dance,” she said, her voice sweet but full of intent. “You’d look lovely out there.”
I forced a polite smile, shaking my head just enough to signal that I wasn’t up for it. “Oh, no, I’m fine ma’am.”
But she wasn’t having it. “Nonsense,” she insisted, her eyes gleaming. “It’s just a dance, dear. Armando, tell your fiancee it’s rude to refuse me.”
I froze. My mind raced, looking for an escape, but there was none. I glanced at Armando, hoping he’d find a way to decline without causing a scene. Instead, he gave me that look again.
Great.
With no choice left, I slowly stood up, my legs shaky beneath me. My heart was pounding so loud I thought everyone in the room could hear it. Armando was already standing, waiting for me. He didn’t say a word as I stepped toward him, but his expression made it clear-another thing I had to go along with.
I followed him onto the dance floor, trying to keep my steps steady. The other couples looked so natural, so graceful, like they’d been doing this their entire lives. Meanwhile, I could barely remember to breathe.
We found our spot, and the room went quiet-the silence louder than the music. And in that moment, I could hear everything-my breath, my pulse, and the nagging fear in my mind that I was about to make a fool of myself.
Then the music started. Slowly, Armando’s hand slid around my waist, pulling me in. The touch sent chills through my body. I didn’t want to feel anything, not from him, but something about it made my heart race even faster.
He took my hand with his other, leaning close enough that I could feel his breath on my ear. His voice was low, almost teasing. “Follow my lead,” he whispered, his lips barely moving. “Unless you want to embarrass both of us.”
I swallowed hard, nodding slightly. The fear of tripping or stepping on his foot was nothing compared to the dread of what might happen if I embarrassed him in front of all these people. I tried forcing myself to calm down, but that wasn’t working.
“Look at me,” he murmured, his voice steady. “Keep your eyes on mine. And put your hand on my shoulder.”
I did as he said, my hand trembling as I rested it on his shoulder. I met his gaze, trying to focus on that instead of the overwhelming feeling of everyone’s eyes on us. Strangely, looking into his eyes actually helped. His gaze was intense, but in that moment, it grounded me.
He started moving, and I tried my best to follow his steps. Left foot, right foot, left again. He led with such precision, like he’d done this a million times. I, on the other hand, felt clumsy, my movements stiff and uncertain. But Armando didn’t let me falter. Whenever I hesitated, his hand on my waist would guide me back, pulling me closer until I matched his rhythm.
“You’re doing fine,” he whispered again, this time softer, almost like encouragement.
I didn’t believe him, but I kept moving, trying not to overthink every step. The music filled the room, blending with the sound of my heartbeat. We twirled slowly, and for a brief moment, it didn’t feel like I was trapped in this nightmare. For a brief moment, I felt like I was just dancing.
But then reality came crashing back. His hand tightened slightly on my waist, a reminder of who I was dancing with. This wasn’t some fairy tale ball, and Armando wasn’t some prince. He was my captor, and I was playing a dangerous game.
Still, I moved with him, trying to ignore the growing heat between us, the way his closeness made my skin tingle in a way I didn’t want to admit. He leaned in again, his lips brushing the shell of my ear.
“See?” he said softly. “Not so bad, is it?”
I clenched my jaw, refusing to let him see how shaken I was. I kept my gaze fixed on his, not daring to look away. I wouldn’t let him know how much he got under my skin.
“Good girl,” he whispered, and I hated the way those words made my stomach turn.
We moved in sync as the music guided us, Armando holding me so close I could feel the beat of his heart matching mine. Every step, every movement, felt like it was perfectly calculated-controlled, just like everything he did. His hand rested firmly on my waist, and despite the tension, there was something gentle about his touch.
I glanced up, locking eyes with him. His dark, bold gaze bore into me, steady and unreadable. I could see nothing in his eyes that suggested the ruthlessness I knew was there. In that moment, they were just… intense, almost too much to look away from. I didn’t want to be lost in them, but I was.
Suddenly, with a smooth, fluid motion, Armando bent me backward, his grip on me unwavering. My heart raced, and I felt his breath quicken too. My back arched, and for a split second, I thought I might fall, but his hold on me was firm and secure. I was caught, suspended there, our faces close enough that I could feel the heat between us.
The world seemed to narrow down to just the two of us-no music, no people, no lies, just the feeling of his arm around me and the sharp intensity of his eyes locked on mine. I swallowed hard, my breath coming in short, shallow bursts.
Then, with a swift pull, he catapulted me back into his arms, this time with my back pressed against his chest. I felt his breath hot on my neck, sending a shiver down my spine. The closeness of it-the intimacy of how his lips hovered just inches from my skin-did something to me that I couldn’t explain. My body reacted without my permission, a rush of heat coursing through me that I couldn’t stop. I hated it. I hated myself for feeling this way about him, of all people.
My mind screamed at me to pull away, to get out of his hold, but my body betrayed me. I stayed there, trapped between him and the moment, feeling my pulse quicken as his breath brushed over the sensitive skin of my neck. I closed my eyes for a second, trying to regain control of myself, but the sensation of his body pressed so firmly against mine made that impossible.
I felt… aroused. And it terrified me. How could I be reacting to him like this? Armando, of all people. The man who owned and controlled me. There was no reason I should feel anything but disgust and fear, and yet, here I was, my skin tingling from his touch, my body responding in ways I didn’t want it to.
I clenched my fists, trying to force the feeling away, but it clung to me, refusing to be shaken off. I felt dizzy with it, the confusion of my own emotions tangling with the raw, physical reaction I couldn’t control.
Just when I thought I couldn’t take it anymore-when I was about to lose myself completely-the music stopped. The dance was over, but Armando didn’t release me right away.
For a few lingering moments, we stayed as we were, his chest still against my back, my breath still uneven. Then, slowly, I turned to face him again. Our eyes met, and for a few seconds, neither of us said anything. I could still feel the aftershocks of the moment between us, the heat in my body refusing to cool down. His gaze was hard to read, but there was something there-something just as shaken.
Or maybe I was just imagining it.
Then, without warning, his expression shifted. His eyes flicked to something behind me, and whatever had just passed between us was gone. He lifted his head, his face becoming cold and distant again.
“Go back to the table,” he said, his voice low but commanding. “Wait there until I return.”
There was no room for argument in his tone, but I couldn’t help the small surge of frustration that bubbled up in me. One moment he was holding me like I was the center of his world, and the next, I was being dismissed like an afterthought.
I swallowed hard, fighting the urge to snap at him, and simply nodded. Without another word, I turned and walked back toward our table. I could still feel the echo of his hand on my waist, the warmth of his breath on my neck. I hated that it lingered. I hated that even now, as I sat down, my heart was still racing, my skin still tingling.
I glanced over my shoulder, but Armando was already gone, lost in the crowd that filled the room. I was alone, left to sit and wait, just as he had commanded.