I rolled my shoulders back, knowing I was more upset than I ought to be, but I didn’t understand how anyone could use Willow as a bargaining chip.

Her pupils threatened to swallow the green of her irises. “You feel strongly about this.”

I forced myself to hold her gaze. I wasn’t about to pretend I hadn’t meant every word I said. “Yes.” I reached for her hand and twined our fingers together. “Dance with me?”

She glanced down at the dance floor, finally noticing the couples who were swaying across it. Longing shone in her eyes. She wanted to dance but something was holding her back.

“Is this about Tom?” I asked. “You don’t want him to see us together?”

Willow

My cheeks heated in embarrassment. While I wasn’t exactly worried about what Tom thought, it had crossed my mind that I didn’t want to have to deal with one of his temper tantrums either.

“You know he isn’t half the man Frank was.” Ronan released my hand and I missed the contact immediately. “He uses you.”

He was right, but I hated that he was perceptive enough to see it. “How do I know you’re not using me?” I asked. “This might be your way of messing with Tom.”

At the end of the day, I couldn’t trust either him or my brother.

He nodded. “Touché.”

“I know he’s not Dad,” I continued. “But he’s in charge of the company, and the company is Dad’s legacy. Making sure his memory is honored means more to me than nearly anything.”

His expression softened. “I get it. He was a good man.”

“The best.” I felt my eyes start to well up, and I offered him a hand, in need of distraction. “You’re right. We should dance.”

He led me down one of the grand staircases and onto the dance floor, where he placed one hand on my hip and the other on my shoulder. We swayed together. The steps of a waltz came easily to me from years of childhood lessons. I’d been raised for this life. My mother had put a lot of effort into making sure I could hold my own in social settings before she passed away. It had been the one thing she’d done with me. Seeing me swirl around the floor in the arms of a handsome billionaire would have been her dream come true.

Ronan kept pace easily, and I smiled to myself. He must have taken classes because I knew he hadn’t come from the same privileged background I had. He’d been a scholarship kid who’d clawed his way into the big leagues.

I inched closer until I could feel the hard planes of his body shift with each step and shut my eyes. I enjoyed dancing with him, whatever his reasons might be. He smelled clean and masculine—not of aftershave, as Petrov had, but of good, old-fashioned soap and hard work.