Page 22 of King of Greed

“Come on, dance with me.” Alessandra laughed at my grimace. “Just once. I promise you won’t combust into flames.”

“Debatable.” Nevertheless, I took her outstretched hand. I hated making a fool of myself, but I’d never been able to deny her anything. “I don’t know how to dance to this.”

It was our last night in Brazil. Her mother and brother were out, leaving us alone for the evening. A breeze filtered through the open windows, carrying with it the scent of summer, and a woman’s exquisite voice crooned from the old record player spinning in the corner.

“Don’t worry. It’s not like the samba I tried to teach you yesterday.” Alessandra pulled me to the center of the living room. “Just put your hands here like this…” She placed my hands on her hips. “Hold me like this…” She pressed her cheek against my chest, her breath catching when I stroked her gently through the thin cotton of her dress. “And sway,” she finished with a whisper.

I tucked my chin against the top of her head and closed my eyes as we swayed to the music. I ignored the small velvet box burning a hole in my pocket; for now, I was happy just holding her.

We’d come a long way since our first meeting nine months ago, and I silently thanked whatever higher power was out there for putting me in her path—even if they’d had to drag me there kicking and screaming.

“My mom used to play this song whenever she had a new boyfriend.” Alessandra lifted her head. “I heard it alot.”

I believed it. Whereas Alessandra was easygoing and down to earth, her ex-supermodel mother lived in a world of her own. She’d arrived at dinner yesterday wearing a feather minidress, diamond necklace, and her rock star boyfriend’s mouth glued to her neck.

“Who’s the singer?” I asked.

“Marisa Monte.” Her smile was so soft and warm I felt it deep in my bones. “It’s called ‘Amor I Love You.’”

Present-day Alessandra wasn’t smiling, but the sheen in her eyes gave me an inkling of hope. As long as she felt something, we were salvageable, because what I feared wasn’t her hate; it was her indifference.

“If things were different, we would’ve shown up together,” she said. “We would order drinks, tell each other about our days, and complain about the rush hour traffic. We’d make up life stories about the people around us and argue about whether it was too early to put up Christmas decorations. We would be a normal couple, and we would…” Her voice caught. “We would be happy.”

The brokenness of the last word cleaved my heart in half. The picture she painted was a tribute to simpler times, and while I never wanted to be the powerless, penniless boy I’d been when we’d first met again, Ididwant to be the man she fell in love with.

I wanted her to smile at me the way she used to.

I wanted her by my side, happy and laughing and whole.

I wantedusback, even if it meant stripping away parts of the person I’d worked so hard to build.

“One dance.” I hadn’t begged anyone for anything in a long time, but I was begging now. “Please.”

The song ended. The moment of nostalgia dissipated, but I barely noticed as I waited for Alessandra’s response.

She stared at my outstretched hand. My heart slammed against my ribcage, and just when I thought she would walk away and take the damn organ with her, she slipped her palm into mine.

Relief crushed the air from my throat.

I drew her closer, careful not to move too fast lest I spooked her.

One dance. One song. One chance.

“Do you remember the first time we went to a bar together?” I asked. “I passed English comp, and we celebrated with shots at the Crypt.”

Alessandra shook her head. “How could I forget? You almost got arrested.”

We hadn’t lasted more than five minutes inside before some drunken asshole hit on her. He’d refused to leave us alone, and his advances had grown increasingly aggressive until I punched him, he punched me back, and the altercation escalated into a brawl that brought the cops onto the scene.

“It would’ve been worth it,” I said. “I hope his nose was never the same.”

Her reluctant laugh sent tendrils of warmth spiraling through my chest. I hadn’t realized how much I’d missed the sound. Even before she left, she hadn’t laughed much. Not in the way she used to.

Alessandra gradually relaxed as I drew more memories into the present—our first date, our graduation, our first trip together to New York. Our future was uncertain, but once upon a time, we’d been good together. We could get back to that place. We just needed time.

The song ended, and she moved to pull away before my arm tightened around her.

“Not yet,” I said, the words ragged. I wasn’t ready to let her go, but I didn’t know how to make her stay.

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