Isabella took a deep breath, the cool marble beneath her feet grounding her as she attempted the waltz steps she'd been practicing. The afternoon light streamed through the tall windows as it casted shadows across the polished floor.
Without a partner, she felt foolish, her arms curved around empty air, her movements stilted and uncertain.
"Stop," Matteo said after a moment, his deep voice cutting through the classical music that filled the room. Isabella's cheeks flushed with embarrassment as she froze mid-step. "The problem isn't your feet. It's your fear."
"I'm not afraid." The lie tasted bitter on her tongue, her pulse quickening under his intense scrutiny.
"Yes, you are. You're afraid of making mistakes." He moved closer, and Isabella caught the subtle scent of his cologne, something expensive and masculine that made her stomach flutter unexpectedly. "Dancing isn't about perfect steps. It's about feeling the music."
