Page 70 of Close Protection

‘All right.’ She eyes me weirdly before continuing. ‘Number two, if we’re gonna do the whole relationship thing we need to make some boundaries around touching.’

‘That sounds wise.’

‘Okay, well, let’s stick to handholding and simple, cute touches but no kissing unless absolutely necessary. Cheek or forehead kisses are fine, though. Is that all right with you?’

My jaw ticks, but I just nod in response.

‘Okay, and last thing. If you’re my boyfriend, chances are you’ll know how to dance. Do you know how to dance, Mr Petrov?’

‘Why would anyone see me dancing?’

‘It’s a gala. There will be dancing. Very boilerplate stuff, like waltzing.’

‘Oh.’ I pause. In my twenty years of living I’ve never once needed ballroom dancing as a skill. I can dismantle a bomb, I know the pressure points in the body that cause the most pain and I can speak five languages. I actively sat out of any dances at the military balls because there was no one Iwanted to dance with. But none of this helps me now. ‘No. I don’t know how to dance.’

In response to my answer, this girl’s face lights up like I’ve never seen. You’d think I just solved world hunger from the way she’s glowing at me.

‘Great! I get to teach you.’

Oh, boy.

She gets off her bed and walks to her bedside table, picking up her phone and connecting it to her speakers. A familiar slow song starts and Daphne walks towards me holding her hand out for me to take.

‘This song is what got me into ballroom when I was younger. It literally takes you through the steps of a waltz.’ She smiles as I rise and take her hand. It’s soft in mine as she stops me, moving to stand in front but still keeping our hands linked.

‘I think I’ve heard it before,’ I say.

‘Really? Well, it’s called “Can I Have This Dance”, fromHigh School Musical.’

‘Hallie used to play this song all the time at the children’s home,’ I explain.

‘Ah, well then, she has good taste.’ She smiles. ‘Okay, so this arm is going to come and rest just here.’ She pulls my hand onto her upper back, keeping my elbow out. ‘And this hand stays in mine. Now, normally the man is supposed tolead but I’ll have to teach you the steps first before we do that.’

‘Okay.’ That cute concentration face appears as she takes me through the basic steps and tests my rhythm and pace. I try to focus on the movements but all I can think about is how close she is and how good she smells. It takes me back to last week when she was cleaning and bandaging my hands. She was so cute and caring, it made my heart ache.

Is that what it’s like to have someone fuss over you?

If so, then sign me up because I want her to fuss over me every day of the week.

We practise dancing for two hours before we call it quits. She looked pretty impressed with herself, and me, so I think I’ll be all right tonight.

It’s seven o’clock when I hear Daphne’s honeyed voice invite me into her room once again.

As soon as I open the door, I’m taken aback.

‘Beautiful,’ I murmur, closing the door behind me.

Her hair looks different now as it flows down her back in vintage-looking curls, and her face is lightly dusted with make-up. Her neck is bare as she holds her necklace box in her hands, and then there’s her dress.

The dress she picked out is a silky light pink – almost white – colour, going in at the waist and fanning out onlyslightly when it reaches mid-thigh and then tracks all the way to the floor. The top of the dress is off the shoulder, covering her Band-Aid and perfectly sculpting her upper body.

‘It’s Alexander McQueen.’ She glows up at me.

‘Mmm,’ I rumble. ‘That’s nice, but I wasn’t talking about the dress.’ I couldn’t care less who made it. All I care about is how she looks in it. And she looks like art.

Like regal, graceful, elegant art. Almost too striking to touch.

Almost.

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