As a result, he pulled her up from the sofa and danced with him.

It's not a minuet or a waltz, but it's a bit like flamenco.

"You can dance?" He looked at her in surprise and said.

"How can you jump?" Georgiana was even more surprised.

His face immediately turned ugly.

"Lucien?" she said expressionlessly.

"He can't think that he can be forgiven for whatever he did wrong." The 30-year-old antique said sternly.

This time Georgiana did not speak for Lucien.

"Who taught you this dance?"

"I learned it myself."

"How did you learn it?"

"Look in the mirror."

"You dance alone and show me."

She didn't move.

"What's wrong?"

"I've never performed in front of anyone," she said nervously.

He was even happier now. He sat on the sofa with his hands on his stomach in great interest, like an audience.

"Jump." he urged.

"No music."

"Flamenco can be danced without music."

She is still struggling to her death.

"Jump!" commanded the Wild Lion.

So Georgiana danced stiffly like a puppet.

After dancing for a while, she found that Bonaparte was not laughing at her, so she danced more naturally. Unfortunately, she did not wear a red skirt, otherwise she would look like a burning flame.

The Mamluks once told her that the Sultan of Kebir means the Sultan of Fire.

Fire can bring warmth, but it can also bring war and destruction.

Who would have thought that this title actually belongs to a short Westerner with a pair of deep gray-blue eyes.

"Come, my Violet Queen," he said, holding out his arms to her.

"No, come here." She hooked her fingers at him, and then ran wildly through the house.

Since it is a dream, why not dream sweeter?

After being caught, she was so immersed in the sweet kiss that she forgot all about the wish she had made before.
Chapter completed!