Just as promised, he looks murderous.

“It’s not at all what you think,” I tell him when we meet halfway. I even press my hand to his chest just in case he gets some wild idea to blow past me. “You can stop staring at that man like that. He’s a friend of Victoria’s.”

Emmett looks down at me with raised brows as if to say, And your point?

“And he’s currently trying to win over that male dancer standing in their group, so there’s no need to lay claim or anything.”

“Lay claim?”

It’s like the idea suddenly intrigues him.

He looks up and surveys the room briefly before refocusing his dark eyes on me.

“So, he’s not a bother…” he continues, “but there are other men here no doubt vying for an opportunity to talk to you. Maybe I should lay claim.”

“Worried I’ll slip away?”

“You’ve proved elusive enough these last few weeks.”

I know he’s only teasing now. He can’t truly be worried that I care for someone else. There is no world beyond him.

“What else was I supposed to do?” I ask, trying to keep up the charade.

He drops his hand over mine. “Relent, eventually. Will you?”

I don’t know how to answer him. The question means too much. So, I sidestep it.

“Did you show up here tonight by pure coincidence?”

“Your grandmother called me.”

My jaw drops. “That saboteur.”

He smiles. “She took pity on me.”

I barely resist the urge to stamp my foot. “She was playing it so cool and everything. I thought she was giving me the freedom to make my own choice in the matter.”

“She is, I assure you. She made that clear to me. But…she saw me come over to the house a few times. She knows my feelings.” He squeezes my hand. “It was kind of her, and now that I’ve told you my secret, you can’t run off…”

He takes my hand, gently lacing our fingers together, and then he starts to pull me toward the dance floor.

The members of the orchestra set up in the corner play a pared-down, slower version of the Swan Lake suite. The delicate harp and violin provide such a gentle melody.

With only a few couples on the dance floor, I feel like the whole room watches us as Emmett sweeps me up into his arms.

“You never asked me if I wanted to dance.”

“Would you like to?” he asks, putting the full force of his charm behind his question. I’m surprised my knees don’t give out.

“Well, it’d be a shame to stop now,” I tease, sounding like I’m doing him a huge favor by enduring his touch when in reality, I’m abuzz with nervous excitement.

We’re approaching the end of the road, the moment when I’ll have to dig my heels in once and for all over a situation that feels muddy and complex and now…suddenly, so silly.

But I don’t have to.