His fingers pressed against the silk of my dress, warm through the thin fabric. His other hand caught my elbow, and for a moment we were frozen like that—me off-balance, him holding me up, our faces closer than they'd ever been.
"Careful." His voice was low. "These floors are treacherous."
"I—" My face was burning. "Thank you. Sorry—"
"They're fine." He released me slowly, making sure I was stable before stepping back. "You're doing great tonight, by the way. Marco doesn't laugh for just anyone." A ghost of a smile crossed his face. "Come on. Helena wants to show you the krater."
The antiquities gallery was smaller than the Dutch rooms, tucked away in a wing that had clearly been added later. Climate-controlled cases lined the walls, each one lit from within to showcase its contents: C
