Page 134 of Modern Romance Collection December 2024 Books 1-4

His eyes widen slightly before a shutter drops over them.

“A surprising choice, given your other selections for tonight.”

I shrug. He doesn’t need to know that I had never envisioned wearing it as my own gown. I’d talked about using part of the train as a veil, or perhaps wrapping a strip of lace around my wedding bouquet to honor my mother. But when I’d pulled it out of the chest, felt that warmth wash over me, I knew I would need that connection today, that remembrance of love, as I walked down the aisle and into a loveless marriage.

“Haven’t you heard? Vintage is in.”

His eyes narrow, as if he’s trying to decipher some puzzle. I’m about to open my mouth and tell him not to bother when Sarabeth materializes out of the darkness.

“There you are!” She taps a finger on the clipboard. “You should have been lined up two minutes ago. Let’s go.”

Gavriil’s lips tilt up. Amusement lights his pale blue eyes as he inclines his head to Sarabeth before extending a hand to me. I ignore him and toss back the rest of the champagne before setting the glass on the banister.

“Charming,” he murmurs under his breath as he grabs my elbow and pushes me toward the dance floor.

“At a thousand a bottle, I didn’t want to waste any.”

His grip tightens and I suppress a satisfied smirk as he leads me to the dance floor. If the man is going to parade me around like a monkey in his personal circus, I’m not going to waste an opportunity to get under his skin.

We near the patio, strung with twinkling lights and surrounded by stunning pots overflowing with the ridiculously expensive orchids and dramatic roses. Tables draped in black tablecloths and topped with smaller clusters of the same flower arrangements form a C around the dance floor, with the orchestra on an elevated platform at the far end of the patio.

“Ladies and gentlemen, Mr. and Mrs. Gavriil Drakos!”

The crowd cheers as Gavriil leads me onto the dance floor. I think I’m smiling at the sea of faces blurred by the lights and my own nervousness. The fear that they’ll see right through me.

“It’s a wonder you managed to gain the reputation you did.”

My spine snaps into a straight line as I shoot a steel-laced smile his way.

“Oh?”

He pulls me close, one arm tight about my waist, a hand resting on my naked back and the other wrapped around my fingers.

“For someone with your renown, I expected you not to wear your heart on your sleeve.” He leans down, his breath tickling my ear. “At least look happy for your first dance with your new husband.”

I smile then, a bright, brilliant beam as I stop myself from stomping on his foot.

“Of course, darling,” I croon.

He presses me closer, his eyes flaring as he whisks me into a turn. I grit my teeth against the traitorous pleasure that zips through my veins at the feel of his body against mine. Lights streak by as music fills the air. With the way he’s looking at me, the masterful way he’s waltzing me about the patio, and the gentle brush of lace against my skin, it would be easy to fall into the illusion. To think that the magic of one gilded night could be carried into the next day and beyond.

I focus on a spot over his shoulder. I just need to get through this dance, and then I’ll sit down with Dessie or Catherine.

“Everyone’s been telling me they haven’t attended a better wedding.”

His voice breaks through my thoughts, a touch of cold edging his tone.

“You don’t sound pleased.”

He shrugs before he raises my hand up and spins me into a turn that has my skirt flaring out. The guests applaud and I swear I hear someone swoon. His palm lands once more on my bare back, making me silently curse myself for asking for a “touch of sexiness” from Catherine’s seamstress-friend, who did the alterations.

“I didn’t say that.”

“You didn’t have to.”

I can feel him watching me for what can’t be more than a few seconds but feels like forever.

“You confuse me. You spent thousands on flowers and champagne. But you wear your mother’s wedding dress. You work with one of the most lauded event planners in the country, yet invite less than a dozen guests of your own to our wedding. Your father’s ex-girlfriend walked you down the aisle.” When my head snaps up, he grins down at me. “Dessie spoke very highly of you when I introduced myself during the cocktail hour.” He leans down and I swallow hard, vividly remembering the last time his lips were so close to mine. “You’re a puzzle, Juliette. One I want to figure out.”

---