Chapter 12 - The Emerald Dress Returned
At 10:30 PM, the gala’s jazz orchestra swelled into a slow, sweeping waltz.
Couples drifted onto the circular polished parquet floor beneath the soaring glass dome. The snow outside had begun to fall again, large, lazy flakes dancing against the illuminated glass.
Gideon took Tessa’s glass, placed it on a passing waiter’s silver tray, and extended his hand.
"Dance with me, Tessa."
Tessa looked at the crowded floor, then at his open palm. "Gideon, I know how to knead sixty pounds of sourdough and balance an ingredient ledger. I don't know how to waltz in front of four hundred socialites."
"Follow my lead," Gideon murmured, his fingers closing around hers with gentle, unyielding strength. "Nobody on that floor matters except you."
He led her onto the center of the parquet.
He placed his right hand firmly against the small of her back, pulling her close until the silk of her emerald gown brushed against his tailored trousers. Her left hand rested against the broad, immovable wall of his chest, feeling the steady, powerful rhythm of his heartbeat beneath the linen.
They moved.
Gideon danced with the same deceptive, effortless grace that defined his predatory power. He guided her through the sweeping turns, his mass anchoring her, his steps perfectly matching her rhythm.
Tessa let out a breath she felt like she had been holding for twenty-nine years.
She rested her forehead lightly against the lapel of his tuxedo, letting the whispers of the room wash over them like meaningless background static.
"Do you remember what you asked me at Aureline?" Gideon asked softly as they rotated beneath the glittering chandeliers.
"I asked if you wanted to leave."
"Before that," Gideon murmured. "You said you weren't what men looked for. You said men wanted someone thin, someone who summered in Nantucket, someone who took up as little space as possible."
He paused, his hand pressing deeper into her waist, lifting her chin with his thumb until her hazel eyes locked onto his.
"A man who wants a woman to take up less space is a boy who is terrified of his own inadequacy," Gideon said, his voice ringing with absolute, raw conviction. "I built an empire because I take up space. And I want a woman who stands beside me like an empire of her own."
Tessa’s eyes filled with hot, sparkling tears—not of pain, but of a profound, healing liberation that unburdened her soul.
May you like
"Gideon..."
"You are perfection, Tessa Wren," Gideon whispered, leaning down until his lips hovered a millimeter above hers. "And if anyone in this city ever suggests otherwise, I will burn their world to the ground."
