CHAPTER FIVE
The Gypsy band in the Duna bar struck up a tango, of all things, and the next instant Jakub and I were dancing cheek to cheek, his hand exerting the lightest pressure in the middle of my back, enough to signal when it was time to pivot before resuming our sinuous walk around the floor. A slight bend of the knee, a sideways swivel, and Jakub turned me around in a languorous circle, my right foot trailing behind until I lifted it, at his prompting, into a perfectly executed leg wrap.
“Brava, najdroższa.”
I leaned into him and nibbled his earlobe. Never once during the obligatory ballroom dancing lessons at the Wentworth Academy for Young Ladies had I grasped the essential feature of the tango, the melting movement where two become one, but improvising figures to the driving r
