What We Become Read Online Free PDF

mind, he threaded his way through the people swaying to the fluid rhythms of the music. The de Troeyes were sitting in silence, watching the dancers. When Max paused in front of their table, a waiter had just placed on it a couple of champagne glasses and an ice bucket out of which peeped a bottle of Clicquot. He bowed to the husband, who was leaning back slightly in his chair, legs crossed, one elbow on the table, and another of his perpetual cigarettes in his left hand, where, next to his wedding band, Max noticed a thick, gold signet ring with a blue lozenge. Then he looked at the woman, who was studying him with interest. She wore no bracelets or rings, apart from her wedding band, only the splendid string of pearls and matching earrings. Max did not open his mouth to offer his services, but simply gave another, more fleeting bow than the last, clicked his heels together in almost military fashion, and stood stock-still until she, with a slow smile and apparently appreciative, shook her head. Max was about to withdraw, when the husband slid his elbow off the table, carefully straightened the crease in his trousers, and peered at his wife through a cloud of cigarette smoke.
    â€œI’m tired,” he said in a lighthearted manner. “I think I ate too much at dinner. I’d like to watch you dance.”
    The woman did not stand up immediately. She looked for an instant at her husband, who took another draw on his cigarette, squinting in silent approval.
    â€œEnjoy yourself,” he added after a moment. “This young man is a magnificent dancer.”
    Scarcely had she risen from her chair when Max opened his arms, discreetly. Holding her right hand aloft, he placed his free hand on her waist. The unexpected touch of her warm skin took him by surprise. He had noticed the cut of her evening gown exposing her back, but it hadn’t occurred to him, despite his experience of embracing ladies, that when dancing with her he would place his hand on her naked flesh. His unease lasted only an instant, concealed beneath his professional mask of composure, and yet his partner sensed it, or he thought she did. For a split second she looked straight at him, before her gaze wandered again across the dance floor. Max leaned gently to one side to begin the dance, and she responded with perfect ease. They began to circle amid the other couples. On two occasions he glanced at the necklace she was wearing.
    â€œAre you ready to do a crossover here?” Max whispered after a moment, anticipating a favorable passage in the music.
    Her silent gaze lasted a couple of seconds.
    â€œOf course.”
    He removed his hand from her back, halting abruptly on the dance floor, and spun her full circle, first this way then that, sketching an arabesque around his still form. They came together again in perfect harmony, his hand resting once more on the supple curve of her waist, as if they had rehearsed the step half a dozen times. There was a smile on her lips and Max nodded, satisfied. A few couples had moved aside slightly to stare at them with admiration or envy, and she alerted him with a gentle squeeze of his hand.
    â€œLet’s not draw attention to ourselves.”
    Max apologized, for which he was rewarded with another indulgent smile. He enjoyed dancing with her. She was the perfect height for him, and he enjoyed feeling the curve of her slender waist beneath his right hand, the way she rested her fingers on his other hand, how easily she pivoted in time to the music, always with poise and finesse, maintaining the figure. With a hint of defiance, perhaps, and yet without any fuss, as when she had agreed to his spinning her around, doing so with all the elegance in the world. As they continued dancing, her eyes remained distant, nearly all the time staring into space, allowing Max to study her perfect features, the contour of her mouth colored with a subtle lipstick, her discreetly powdered nose, the neat arc of her