I raise my arms over my head, crossing them into fists and gyrate my hips to the beat, the alcohol moving through my system. I close my eyes, taking in the atmosphere around me. The tingling sensation down my spine makes my eyes open again.
I look up, and despite the synchronized harmony of the crowd on the dance floor, I stop, frozen in place when I see Ettore. He's standing on one of the stairs that angles down from the VIP section. He has a drink in one hand and his other arm casually draped around the shoulder of a statuesque blonde. She's facing him, her hand gently rubbing through the unbuttoned part of his shirt. Her face tilts toward him, and even from a distance I can see her reverence and adoration for him, even though he has his head turned away from her, laughing with a dissol
