“Actually, darling,” I said in a louder voice, turning to Austin and placing a hand on the front of his shirt. “Why don’t we dance a little? We always come to these things, and you never dance with me.” I pouted like a petulant trophy wife, and Austin’s emerald eyes widened a fraction. He flicked a lightening fast glance from me to Vali and back again before sinking into the character he was playing. “Well, sugar pea, that’s because you can’t dance,” he responded, loud enough for the men standing near us to hear and chuckle a little. “Darling.” I affected a whining, bored housewife sort of
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