"Agent Hill's off... I don't know where," he admitted. She was as glad to be free of him as he of her, though their conversation had been surprisingly productive. It no longer mattered though. He was done talking to her, or anyone else. "And I don't care. The only one I'm interested in seeing at this moment is you."
Opening the door to his study and leaving it open behind him, hoping she'd follow, he crossed to his desk and turned on the stained glass Tiffany lamp sitting on it before continuing on to an old phonograph in the far corner. It was just one of many antiques displayed around the room, some in cabinets behind glass, but when he set this one up and put the needle to one of the records he pulled from the shelf beneath the top deck, the crackle of air emerging from the fluted horn proved that this particular piece still worked.
As Julie London's voice softly filled the room, Bruce stepped into the bare space in the center of the rug and turned to see if Selina was still there, holding out his hand. "One dance, Selina. After that, if you want to go instead of staying and talking, I won't try to stop you. Please." He needed to hold her without feeling like he was betraying himself, even if he could take it no further.