The atmosphere shifted noticeably when the string quartet transitioned into a slower, more delicate melody, its gentle notes weaving through the air like silk. The music acted as a beckoning call, drawing couples onto the dance floor, where hands met and arms wrapped securely around their partners' waists.
A faint, knowing smile tugged at the corners of Ragnar's lips as he turned to Circe, extending his hand toward her once more.
"It would look rather strange if I didn't dance with my wife," he said, his voice lowered as he leaned in slightly so she could hear him better over the hum of conversation and music. "They're all still watching. What do you say we give them something to gawk at?"
Circe regarded his outstretched hand as though it were a coiled viper, poised and ready to strike. Suspicion and reluctance warred in her expression.
