Giovanni narrowed his eyes at him when he pressed his fingers into the dimples in his back and the look of irritation on his face had his lips curling up in amusement. His brow was furrowed, lips pressed into a thin line, and Luciano could practically see the gears turning in his mind as he struggled to follow the steps. This was definitely not his element—the opulent ballroom, the glittering of fey nobility, the delicate dance steps.
The graceful, choreographed movements of the waltz were a far cry from the confident strides and calculated coldness he was accustomed to seeing Giovanni.