The real answer was no, I want to get the fuck away from you, because this dance had been far more trouble than it was worth – but he couldn’t very well tell her that, could he?

Instead he paused, not making another move just yet; he was too tense and too close to her and almost too lightheaded with the adrenaline of all this to decide what she was going to do if he did. Of course he’d had to ask the freak of nature in the ballroom to dance. It couldn’t have been a pleasant time, could it? (Kristoffer was pointedly ignoring the fact that this confrontation had been the highlight of his evening, because he wasn’t sure what being attracted to a woman who despised him and who was obviously deranged would say about him, exactly.)

He tried to disguise a dry swallow at her mention of her husband approaching, but some of the hard smugness faded fast from his face, and his hands dropped away in defeat. “Perfect,” he spat snidely, as if her husband’s interruption was a favour to him after all, an excuse he’d leapt at and not a threat. He leant in once more, not touching her this time but speaking in a low tone. “He should send you to the madhouse where you belong.”

With a hurried glance over his shoulder, though, Kristoffer turned on his heel and staggered back into the crowd, his heart racing.

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