Chapter 217

Chapter 217
Hannah

I stood alone, nibbling on an appetizer and watching my friends. The DJ switched to a more upbeat track, and the dance floor filled up with Michael's guests, their movements creating a kaleidoscope of colors under the string lights.
"Not a fan of dancing?" Michael's voice came from behind me, startling me slightly.
I turned to find him standing closer than I expected, his cologne mingling with the night air. "Just taking a breather."
He extended his hand toward me, a playful smile tugging at his lips. "Would you care to join me?"
I hesitated, my fingers tightening around my glass. The last thing I needed was to be pressed against Michael's body, especially after our loaded coffee date. But refusing the birthday boy at his own party seemed rude.
"Sure," I said finally, setting my glass down. "One dance."
His smile widened as he took my hand, leading me toward the dance floor. The warmth of his fingers against mine sent an unwelcome tingle up my arm.
The music pulsed around us as we found a spot among the other dancers. Michael moved with surprising grace for someone who claimed to spend all his time in boardrooms. His rhythm was natural, confident, without being showy.
"You're better at this than I remember," I shouted over the music.
"Had to take dance lessons for a charity ball last year. Dad's orders."
"Your father made you take dance lessons?" I laughed, imagining stern Mr. Parker insisting his son learn to waltz.
"Three weeks of private lessons with a former Broadway choreographer," Michael confirmed, spinning me gently. "Most humiliating experience of my life."
"Doesn't look like it was wasted effort," I admitted as he guided me through a more complex move than expected.
His hand found the small of my back, steadying me. "Some skills are worth developing, even when they're forced on you."
The song shifted to something slower, and couples around us adjusted, moving closer together. Michael's hands settled on my waist, maintaining a respectful distance between us.
"Is this okay?" he asked, his eyes searching mine.
I nodded, placing my hands lightly on his shoulders. "It's your birthday. I can manage one slow dance."
We swayed to the music, and I found myself relaxing despite my earlier reservations. This was just Michael, after all. My friend. The guy who'd helped me cram for finals and brought me soup when I had the flu during sophomore year.
Except there was nothing "just" about the way his hands felt on my waist, or how his eyes kept finding mine in the dim light.
"I'm glad you came tonight," he said, his voice low enough that only I could hear. "I wasn't sure you would."
"Miss your birthday? Never." I tried to keep my tone light. "Besides, Emma would have dragged me here by force if necessary."
"Emma always was persuasive."
"Terrifying is the word you're looking for," I corrected with a smile. "She once convinced our RA that keeping a hamster in our dorm was therapeutic and therefore exempt from the no-pets policy."
"I remember that hamster," Michael nodded. "Didn't it escape and end up in the air vents?"
"That was a dark week," I confirmed solemnly. "The entire floor smelled like a dead rodent for days."
We both laughed, and for a moment, it felt like old times, easy, uncomplicated friendship without the weight of sugar daddies or unexpected confessions hanging over us.
As we continued dancing, I noticed Michael's thumbs tracing small circles where they rested against my waist. The touch was subtle but deliberate, sending unwanted heat through my body.
The song ended, transitioning to another fast-paced number. I dropped my hands from his shoulders, ready to retreat from the dance floor.
"Time for cake!" someone called out, and a cheer went up from the crowd.
"Perfect timing," I said, grateful for the interruption. "Birthday boy duties call."
Michael looked like he wanted to say something, but a group of his friends surrounded him, clapping him on the back and steering him toward a table where an elaborate cake now stood, candles blazing.
I slipped away from the dance floor, finding Emma at our high-top table near the railing.
"That looked cozy," she remarked, eyebrows raised suggestively.
"It was just a dance," I muttered, taking a long sip of water. "Nothing more."
"Uh-huh." She nudged me with her elbow. "He couldn't take his eyes off you."
"Emma, drop it," I warned. "I'm with Leonardo, remember?"
"You're not 'with' Leonardo," she corrected, echoing our earlier conversation. "You have a business arrangement with Leonardo."
I glared at her. "Which includes exclusivity. Not to mention the fact that Leonardo would probably have Michael killed if he thought something was happening between us."
Emma's expression sobered. "That's not funny, Hannah."
"Who's joking?" I sighed, running a finger around the rim of my glass. "Leonardo is dangerous, and you also know that. I know exactly what I signed up for, but Michael doesn't. The last thing I want is to put him in harm's way."
"Jesus," Emma whispered, her eyes wide. "Has he threatened you? Because if he has—"
"No, nothing like that," I said quickly. "Leonardo has never threatened me directly. But I've seen enough to know what he's capable of. Remember the bodies in his hotel suite when we first met?"
Emma nodded grimly.
"That's just the tip of the iceberg. His world is violent, Emma. Lethal. I can't drag Michael into that, even if I wanted to."
"Do you? Want to?"
Before I could answer, a chorus of "Happy Birthday" broke out across the rooftop. Everyone gathered around Michael as he stood before the massive cake, its candles illuminating his smiling face.
"Make a wish!" someone called out.
Michael's eyes found mine across the crowd just before he blew out the candles, holding my gaze as the flames extinguished. My stomach flipped uncomfortably.
The cake was cut and distributed, giving me a welcome distraction from Michael's intense looks. I accepted a slice, the rich chocolate a temporary comfort as I tried to sort through my conflicting emotions.
"Hannah," Sofia appeared at my side, her cheeks flushed from dancing. "You have to try the chocolate mousse layer. It's heaven."
I took a bite, grateful for Sofia's uncomplicated presence. "You're right. That's incredible."
"Right? Michael said they imported the chocolate from Belgium specifically for this cake." She popped another bite into her mouth, closing her eyes in bliss. "I need to marry a rich man. This is the lifestyle I deserve."
I laughed despite myself. "Be careful what you wish for. Rich men come with rich problems."
"Speaking from experience?" Sofia asked, her eyes twinkling with curiosity.