‘Mmm. And you.’ Carys raised her glass to her lips, admiration in her eyes as she looked at Stefan. ‘I have to hand it to you, occasionally you display a Machiavellian genius beyond anything I’ve ever encountered. Game, set and match, Stefan.’
Selene, who assumed that this coded exchange related to their relationship, stayed silent as Carys scooped two glasses of champagne from a passing waitress and handed one to her.
‘Let’s drink to your existence.’
She saw Stefan frown slightly and remembered what he’d said about not drinking any more champagne, but she couldn’t bring herself to ask for orange juice in front of this sophisticated woman so she tapped her glass against hers and drank.
The alcohol fizzed into her veins and boosted her confidence. She wanted to dance but no one else seemed to be and when she asked why, Carys looked amused.
‘Dancing makes one—hot.’
‘Does that matter?’ She started to sway on the spot and the other woman smiled.
‘That’s for you to decide, but if you can tempt Stefan onto the dance floor then you’ll have succeeded where others have failed.’
Realising that she desperately wanted to succeed where others had failed, Selene watched as she walked away. ‘She hates me. Not because of my father, but because of you. She’s crazy about you.’
He gave her a sharp look. ‘Not so innocent, are you?’
‘I’m good at reading people.’ She’d had to be. She’d learned to recognise everything that wasn’t said, every emotion hidden beneath the surface, so that she could anticipate and deflect. It was how she lived her life and it was going to take more than one evening of freedom to undo that.
Thoughtful, she finished her champagne. He removed the empty glass from her hand and replaced it with orange juice.
‘Here’s a hint—alcohol makes you feel good for five minutes, then you crash and you’ll be crying on my shoulder.’
‘I only cry when I’m happy. Although you should know I’m very happy tonight so you probably ought to stock up on tissues.’ Laughing at the look on his face, she tugged her hand from his and spun onto the dance floor. Emerging from a pirouette, she smacked into Stefan who closed his hands around her arms to steady her.
‘No more champagne.’
‘Killjoy.’
‘I’m preserving my sanity and your brain cells.’
‘I just want to start living my life.’ The thumping rhythm of the music made it impossible not to dance.
Stefan clamped his arm around her to restrict her movements. ‘But you don’t have to live it all in one night.’
The music slowed and he drew her against him. She sighed and slid her arms around his neck. ‘You know when you have a dream and the reality turns out even better?’
He covered her lips with his fingers. ‘I don’t know what is coming out of your mouth next, but I suggest this would be a good moment to clamp it shut.’
‘It’s no wonder all the women chase after you because you are seriously hot.’
He shook his head in disbelief. ‘Whatever happened to the shy, withdrawn nun who walked into my office?’
‘I think this might be the real me, and the real me has never been let out before.’
Amusement mingled with exasperation. ‘Should I be afraid?’
‘You’re not afraid of anything. That’s why I came to you. I know it’s not politically correct to admit it but I think I might be very turned on by strong men.’ Dizzy from the atmosphere and the champagne circulating in her system, Selene leaned her forehead against his chest. ‘And it doesn’t hurt that you smell amazing.’
‘Selene—’
‘And you kiss like a god. You must have had hours of practice to be able to kiss like that. It’s brilliant to have ticked the first thing on my wish list.’
&nbs
p; ‘You have a wish list?’