Please talk to Fleur. Please.
The darker electronic music fades into something a little chirpier and he’s standing far too close to me.
“Would you like to dance?” he asks, his voice the kind of nasal that makes me cringe.
I have no idea what’s gotten into me, because he is striking in his fairness. His skin is pale in the muted light, and his eyes are so light that they reflect every ray of light that finds them. And he’s tall, but not as tall as…
Shit!
Taking a deep breath, I force a smile onto my face in the hopes that if I’m nice enough at ignoring him, he’ll give up and move on.
“She’d love to.” Fleur takes my drink and nudges me closer to him.
Ugh, I hate her. And if she wasn’t the girl that always has my back, I’d hate her to the point I might actually murder her.
“Actually,” turning completely away from Fleur I take a deep breath and look straight at the guy that’s standing there looking at me like I’m a certain win for him. “I’m really sorry, but…”
“It’s one dance and I don’t bite.”
The guy, though? God, he’s looking at me all smiley and nice. And it really fucking sucks because the way his blue eyes widen when I look back at him, I know I can’t say no.
“One dance.” I tell him, and he doesn’t waste a second before he steps flush to me and draws me to his body with a laugh.
Fleur scuttles off with a victorious grin and I can make out that he’s saying something, but the loud music makes it impossible for me to catch it.
“Pardon?” I ask, one of his hands is sitting on my hip and he pulls me closer to him so that we are almost chest to chest.
I’m not sure I like the closeness between us, but I’ve agreed to this dance, and I feel like I need to push myself to forget or at least move on from the concert. I mean, what’s the likelihood I’ll see him again?
The music is so fucking loud I can’t hear myself think, and Christopher trying to shout over it isn’t working. Arabella’s standing there looking fed up and I feel for her because the social butterfly that she is, she probably wants to be milling around the crowd in the middle of the room.
“I did what Freddie asked, but IT at the company is on the ball. I can’t promise you they won’t find whatever was on that drive.” Talking to Christopher, I hand Arabella the handbag sized Harrods bag containing a MacBook loaded with the clone of my father’s company computer.
Everything they need to bring him down is in that bag, and the fact that Bella has a death grip on it as she leans forward and kisses my cheek, does nothing to ease the anxiety wracking through me right now.
“You’re doing the right thing,” she says into my ear before she pulls away.
There’s no need for her to tell me that, I already know it. All my life, since I was eight years old, I’ve waited for this moment. To fuck my father as hard as he fucked me up. Harder actually, because where he left me scarred, I want to leave him buried, six feet deep in his own shit.
Freddie follows her out of the room at a discreet distance, his eyes never leaving her. If any fucker were to try anything, they’d be shit out of luck today.
“She knows what to do,” Christopher says with a slap to my back. “We’re going to head off in a bit, she’s not too happy that we’re doing this here, but Freddie was right—no one would be stupid enough to try anything on our doorstep.”
He’s wrong. I think they’re all underestimating the snake pit they’ve stepped in. They don’t know my father like I do, he’s ruthless. A bastard who doesn’t care who he walks over to get what he wants. And the people he’s working with? Well, if they’re not worse, then they’re just as bad, which means none of us are safe. No matter who’s land we’re on.
It doesn’t take long for Freddie to find his way back to the party, sauntering his way over to us. His eyes are scanning the place, and from his stiff posture, it’s obvious he’s on high alert.
“I have no idea how you can stand any of this shit,” I complain. Sighing, I take in the crowded room. The place is loud and packed, it’s one of my most dreaded scenarios. “How do you even hear—”
I freeze the moment I see her. My blood comes to a boiling rush in my veins that has me stepping towards where she’s dancing with Jack. My fucker of a cousin who I am one hundred percent sure is working with my dad. And even when Christopher shoots out his arm to stop me, I can’t.
“Don’t do it. We need him distracted.” Stepping in front of me he halts my angry steps. “Don’t fuck this up.”
“You’re going to let him touch her?”
“For now. I’ve got eyes on her, and Cassie can handle herself if she needs to.” His chuckle makes me want to beat sense into him. “I don’t want her to have to, but if that’s what she wants…”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”