By Virtue I Fall (Sins of the Fathers #3)(38)

Santino ignored the comment but I knew it would float around in his brain for a while. We headed out to a small restaurant near Sacre Coeur. Once we’d settled at the table, I felt a brief moment of worry that we wouldn’t have anything to talk about and it might become awkward, but Santino nodded toward a guy who wore very form-fitting chinos and sandals with plush golden fur lining plus matching golden socks. I remembered the shoes and socks from the Balenciaga runway show in the fall.

“Explain this to me.”

“Well,” I said thoughtfully as I took a sip from the champagne. “It’s bold.”

“He’s wearing sandals in winter, with socks. How can this be fashionable in anyone’s mind?”

“Fashion always tries to break rules, at least if it wants to be progressive. Not everything is there to last of course. But someone once said you only regret the things you didn’t do, and I suppose that goes for fashion too. As a designer, you don’t want to do what everyone has done before you. You want to be innovative and surprise people. That becomes harder and harder over the years, and especially with fashion being such a fast business.”

“If something has worked for years, why change it? Why not reinvent old fashion trends and not create new completely insane ones.”

“That’s what I’m hoping to do. Rethink old trends and try to create something new and exciting with secondhand pieces. At least, I hope that’ll work out. I don’t know what to expect.”

“You always do your thing, Anna. I doubt a French fashion professor can stop you. And from what I’ve seen you always look good with your secondhand pieces.”

“Thank you,” I said, surprised. “Many people think I’m crazy for loving to shop in secondhand stores because I could afford the most expensive pieces.”

“You could, but then you’d look like all the other rich girls. You always manage to stand out.”

I set down my glass with a smile. “Did we just manage to have a conversation without fighting?”

“Don’t get used to it. I’m sure we’ll find something to fight about soon enough.”

“I have to say, I enjoy both, the fighting and the talking.”

Santino regarded me for a moment and I couldn’t read his expression which made me unreasonably nervous.

The waiter arrived with our starter then, cutting our strange moment of peace short. We ate in silence, but it wasn’t an uncomfortable silence where you’re grasping for a topic to talk about and every scratch of the cutlery echoed painfully. This just felt cozy and nice, us both enjoying the delicious food and occasionally exchanging a look when someone with odd clothes caught our eyes. One cock of Santino’s brow said more than a thousand words, and when I answered with a roll of my eyes that gave him his answer.

After dinner, we headed to a bar that also had a club on the floor below. I didn’t think Santino would join me on the dance floor. Over the years he’d always avoided dancing but this time he followed me to the center of the club where the beat had taken hold of the crowd, turning dozens of bodies into one pulsing mass. “I thought dancing wasn’t part of your job description,” I shouted into Santino’s ear. That was one of his favorite phrases whenever I asked him to do something. Not part of my job description…

He bent down to answer over the music. “This is an extraordinary situation. Don’t get used to it.” His lips brushed my ear briefly and I shivered pleasantly. Our eyes met. We were close, too close to be socially acceptable in our world, but these rules were suspended for now.

I wondered if Santino realized it as well. That in this moment, he could be whoever he wanted to be, and not limit himself to being my bodyguard. He straightened, bringing a bit more distance between us, but not nearly as much as he would have in the past.

I shrugged and allowed myself to let the music dictate my movements. My eyes closed, basking in the here and now. I rarely let loose. Dancing at social events in our circles was a statement and show for everyone around. I was being judged constantly and I acted accordingly, but here, amid a crowd of fun-hungry tourists and Parisians alike, I didn’t have to put on a show or pretend. I could be an unfiltered version of myself.

Someone bumped into my back, followed by Santino’s warning growl, and then I felt a strong, warm hand on my back. I didn’t have to open my eyes to know it was Santino. I could feel his protective presence close to my back. Still, I couldn’t resist a quick peek to see him as he danced at my side, tall and strong, shielding me from everyone around, not just with his body but also with his warning expression. I got a little thrill. Our eyes met and I smiled. It wasn’t meant to provoke or tease, for once I just wanted to show Santino my appreciation, for the chance he was giving me to do this, even if it had taken some light coercion.

Maybe it was my imagination but I thought he lightly stroked my back in response, even as his face remained unmoving. The music changed, becoming slower, and the dance floor filled even more, forcing me and Santino even closer together. His hand moved to my side lightly. The touch was still protective but I felt it everywhere. I leaned back, pressing my back to Santino’s front and my head to his chest.

“Anna,” Santino growled.

“Let me enjoy this moment. It’ll pass soon enough.”

Santino lightly squeezed my hip. I wasn’t sure if it was warning or agreement but he didn’t step back and so we swayed to the gentler beat, body against body, his heartbeat pounding against me. His heat scorched me, and the crisp scent of his aftershave flooded my nose. I could have stayed in this moment forever but the music changed once more, back to a fast tune, and we drifted apart. Eventually we moved back to the bar for another drink. Santino settled for something non-alcoholic, always on duty, but I opted for another cocktail.