Annie looked at her mother. Then, she looked back at the billionaire. Her voice was soft. "If I dance it, do you really mean it?"
Charles's expression did not soften, but it sharpened into something more serious. "I do."
Annie swallowed. "You mean I really get adopted?"
Charles did not look away from her. "Yes."
Annie hesitated, then asked the question that mattered far more to her than silk or fortunes. "And my mama?" she said. "What happens to my mama?"
Lena, still near the edge of the room with the silver tray trembling in her hands, felt tears burn behind her eyes before she could stop them.
Charles turned his head toward Lena briefly, then looked back down to Annie. "I will take care of your mother, too," he said plainly and without hesitation. "She will be safe. She will be provided for."
Annie searched his face with the solemn intensity only very young children and very old people seem to possess. "You promise?"
He gave one slow nod. "I promise."
Annie glanced over at Lena. "Mama," she whispered.
Lena took one step forward, then another, ignoring the guests, the board members, and the staff frozen near the walls. She stopped at the very edge of the dance floor, close enough for Annie to see the strain around her mouth. "Baby," Lena said softly, "you don't have to do anything just because somebody rich says so."
Annie looked back at Charles. "You said," she began slowly, "that if I dance this one, the rest don't matter."
Charles inclined his head. "That is what I said."
"No dress?"