Page 8 of Bound Bride
Her words draw the attention of a few curious onlookers close enough to overhear.
Those on my side of this marriage are less curious about Rose and more curious about the members from her family that they are subtly shadowing.
After all, if someone from her side is unhappy, then there's no telling what could go wrong, especially here.
This is the one place where she remains on the cusp of being a Chaika until I take her home with me.
Then, she is a Belyaev for good.
"I had business to attend to."
"Business?" Rose pouts suddenly and her hand slides up to my elbow. "More important than me?" She tilts her head to the side and a loose curl drifts past her ear. In this lower light, the shadows that dance across her face are extra enticing. Her lips look fuller, her eyes are brighter, and there are two shadows of dimples growing in her cheeks when she suddenly smiles again. "I know how you can make it up to me?"
"How?"
"Dance with me!"
My blood runs cold. "I do not dance."
"Don't care!"
She speaks loud enough that a handful more people are drawn to our conversation and I'm powerless to stop her from taking my hand and dragging me forward.
Calvin rescues the glass of vodka from my hand, and before I know it, Rose has dragged me out into the middle of the dance floor amidst a sea of watching, prying eyes.
"It's tradition," Rose says as she faces me. "A tradition no one else listened to because you weren't here, but now you are." Her wide smile softens slightly. "Dance with me?"
I ache to say no.
It was bad enough standing at that altar feeling exposed to any passing bullet or person with a grudge but somehow, it's worse here.
Everyone is staring with the weight of their invisible expectations, and I'm expected to dance?
Rose's smile doesn't waver and after a few seconds of staring at one another, she steps into my space and rests both her hands on my shoulders. "Come on," she coaxes with that soft smile. "It's just one dance. Tradition, don't you think?"
Something about the bubbling warmth in her eyes and the sweet way she talks is like honey to my anxiety.
Fuck it.
I take her hand in mine, then drape the other around her waist as the band strikes up a new song.
Rose steps closer and aligns her body with mine just enough that the subtle boning in her corset presses into my abdomen.
Her fingers thread through mine and when I step and sway in one direction, she follows.
Not once does she break eye contact.
"See?" She beams up at me. "Not so bad, right?"
"I… have not danced in a long time," I admit.
"Don't worry, I can teach you!"
Her smile is surprisingly infectious. Something pulls at the corner of my mouth. "Rose."
"Mhm?"
"You are… happier than I expected, given the nature of this deal. Or… did no one give you all the details?"
