“Yes.” He took another step. She so very much didn’t want him to go. “Do you want to dance later?”

“No.”

“No?” she echoed laughingly.

“I can’t dance with you,” he scoffed.

“Why not?”

“I can’t touch you. God. I can’t even look at you.”

“But you’re going to do a lot more than—”

He held up a hand. “Later. That’s later. I’ll see you later.”

“Are you going to go back to ignoring me until then?”

“Yes. Yes, I am.”

Chapter Nineteen

At least I have Lavinia, Max thought to himself as he twirled his unexpected ally around the ballroom. At least I have Lavinia was not a sentence he had ever imagined himself thinking.

As was typical for Eldovian weddings, the regular dancing was interspersed with formal waltzes and traditional folk dances. “If you dance the ländler with me later, our parents will die of happiness,” she said, breathless and pink-cheeked from the fast-paced waltz.

“Grand idea,” he said.

“But perhaps that is too much.” She frowned as she looked over his shoulder.

“No, no. This was a brilliant idea.”

That night in Riems, after the disastrous dinner, Lavinia had shocked Max by proposing they join forces at the wedding to keep their parents at bay. “What if we give them what they want?” she’d asked. “Or I should say, what if we appear to give them what they want? That way we can actually enjoy ourselves without feeling that we need to be constantly looking over our shoulders. And also, your father won’t . . .”

“Ruin Marie’s wedding by throwing a tantrum?” Max had supplied, marveling over how thoroughly he had misjudged Lavinia at that first meeting in New York.

He had happily signed on to her diabolical plan. She had been correct in that their ploy had effectively neutered their parents. As for her other argument, he couldn’t really say he was having fun without having to look over his shoulder. But that wasn’t a flaw in her plan so much as it was about the fact that Dani would not sit still. He’d meant what he said earlier. He didn’t want to be near her until this interminable evening was over. He couldn’t look at her. If he had to, he was at risk of throwing her over his shoulder caveman-style and carrying her out of here regardless of the fallout it would create.

He felt trapped in his own skin. As if he were on fire, and not in a good way.

But what could he do but focus on Lavinia and try to act normal? Even if he wasn’t sure what that meant anymore.

A few hours later, he had danced the ländler, eaten cake, and endured a long conversation about the king’s decision to make some changes to Morneau, the royal family’s watch company, when his mother appeared at his side.