Page 71 of Mafia Shade's Reluctant Bride
She hesitated for only a second before stepping into my arms. The music played soft and slow, a melody that forced people to press closer and move as one.
Maria’s hand rested on my shoulder, her other one slipping into mine. My grip tightened around her waist, instinct more than intention. She was so close. I could feel the warmth of her body, the scent of her perfume weaving its way into my mind.
“You were a terrible dancer as a kid,” she murmured, amusement flickering in her eyes. “Remember your eighth birthday?”
A laugh rumbled in my chest. “I try to forget.”
“You stepped on every girl’s toes, Lorenzo. Every single one. They were terrified of dancing with you.”
“Not you,” I pointed out, recalling how she wasn’t scared and how we would dance and she would perfectly avoid my two left feet.
Her lips curved. “I was too stubborn to be scared.”
“You still are.”
She huffed, her fingers flexing slightly against my shoulder. “I was the only one brave enough to teach you, and you nearly broke my foot.”
“You survived.”
“Barely.”
We laughed, the sound soft and intimate. The rest of the world disappeared.Maria tilted her head slightly, her dark hair cascading over her shoulder. Her lips were close. Too close. I should’ve pulled away. I didn’t.
Her eyes flickered to mine, something unspoken lingering between us. Something we both knew but didn't want to talk about.
I tightened my hold on her waist, my thumb grazing the fabric of her dress. Her breathing hitched. Just a little. Enough for me to notice, and my gaze dropped to her lips.
One move. That was all it would take. One move, and I wouldn’t be able to stop.
The music slowed, but neither of us moved.
“Lorenzo…”
“Maria…”
A beat. A breath. A moment suspended in time. Then applause erupted around us. Reality snapped back into place like a cruel joke.
Maria stepped back first, her hands slipping away from me. I clenched my jaw, ignoring the sharp sting of disappointment. It was just a dance. Nothing more. Nothing more. I repeated, trying to make myself believe that.
We left the gala hours later, the crisp night air greeting us as we stepped outside.
“I’ll call a cab,” I muttered, reaching for my phone.
“No.” Maria’s voice was firm, cutting through the silence.
I turned, arching a brow. “No?”
She lifted her chin slightly, her dark eyes glinting under the streetlights. “The night is still young.”
“That sounds like something someone says before making a terrible decision.”
“Oh, come on, Lorenzo.” She nudged me playfully. “We’ll walk. Just this once.”
I exhaled, shaking my head. “You’re going to regret this.”
“Maybe.” She grinned. “But it’ll be fun.”
I didn’t argue. I should’ve because fifteen minutes later, the sky cracked open, and rain poured down like a damn flood.
