Serafina
The night air clung to my skin as I stepped back into the ballroom. Music rushed at me—strings bright and smooth, applause rising because the cameras had seen us on the terrace and needed another moment to feed. Dante’s hand found the small of my back like it lived there. I didn’t shake him off. Not here.
“Smile,” he murmured. “Then breathe.”
“I’ll breathe when you let go,” I said without moving my lips.
He didn’t. He steered us into the center of the floor as the orchestra slid into a waltz that could make enemies look elegant. The circle formed on instinct—guests easing back to give us the room they thought we were owed. I placed my palm on his shoulder, light as a threat, and let him lead.
“You did well,” he said, voice low, eyes on mine instead of our steps. “No trem
