“Just Elena,” he repeated, like he was tasting her name. “Are you here alone?”
“With a friend.” She didn’t mention Marcus. Didn’t want to think about him right now.
“And the friend doesn’t mind you dancing with strangers?”
“The friend insisted on it, actually.”
Dante laughed, a low warm sound that made something in Elena’s chest tighten. “Smart friend.”
They danced in silence for a moment. He was good—confident, leading her effortlessly through the steps. His hand on her waist was warm even through the silk of her dress.
“You’re tense,” he observed. “When’s the last time you did something just because you wanted to?”
The question caught Elena off guard. When was the last time? Before Marcus, probably. Before she’d started second-guessing every choice, every word, every breath.
“I d
