I searched his eyes for any sort of joke or deception but found none. In the end, I nodded quickly, taking a deep breath and gripping his hand and shoulder with more purpose.
“That’s it,” he smiled, “I’ve got you.”
We started spinning with more and more speed, and in seconds, the rest of the crowd had faded to a blur. He and I were the only solid things left in the room. I gasped and pulled myself closer, but he kept on staring at me with those sparkling eyes.
“Now hold on.”
I stifled a shriek as he swept us through the room as if we were the only ones dancing, lifting me, so the tips of my heels barely touched the ground. I smiled as he shot me a thousand-watt smile. Nobody had a more beautiful smile than this guy. I could feel the light fluttering of butterflies in my stomach as we twirled again and again, tracing graceful lines under the twinkling chandeliers. After I got over the initial shock that this was really happening and that I was actually keeping up, my face lit up with a breathless smile. A delighted giggle escaped my lips, and he beamed back at me, tossing me lightly into the air before catching me in a low dip as the ends of my hair swept the ground. I was having an amazing time.
There was a frozen moment where I gazed up at him, only vaguely aware that we were the only ones not dancing in a room full of spinning dolls. Then, a throat cleared sharply right over my shoulder and the moment passed.
He pulled me quickly to my feet, and I turned around to find myself face to wrinkled face with an Asian businessman. He was flanked on both sides by younger versions of himself, and from the hard set of his mouth, he liked dancing just as much as I did.
“Mr. Takahari,” Marcus exclaimed, taking a respectful step back. There was a caution and deference to the way he regarded the man. And there was something else too. He looked almost...nervous. It was an expression that seemed ill suited to his handsome, confident face. He was the kind of man who didn’t get nervous. Even when that ex-wrestler maintenance man outside the coffee shop had been about to kick his ass, he looked firmly in control.
His eyes flickered to me with a silent plea, and I raised a teasing eyebrow. But I wound my fingers through his hand and politely held my tongue. He had saved me from becoming roadkill out on the dance floor; I would do this for him.
“Mr. Taylor,” the gentleman responded. The only person not to call him Marcus. “Pardon my intrusion. I was about to take my leave, yet I could not help but notice your delightful companion. Usually, you surround yourself with two or three.”
Two or three?
I glanced at Marcus curiously, but he blushed and placed his hand on the small of my back. “It’s no intrusion. This is Rebecca, my girlfriend.”
Although I’d heard the words whispered from every corner of the crowded dance hall, there was something different about the way he said them now. It was a supplication. And whether it be from the flush of dancing, or the relief that I wasn’t being charged with identity fraud, I didn’t hesitate when I stepped up to the task.
And for just a minute in time, I felt like a princess. I was dressed up for the ball and the handsome prince had called me his girlfriend. I wished this night could last forever. Because this kind of stuff never happened to me.
“Pleased to meet you. It’s Becca, actually.” I offered my hand, and the old gentlemen took it mechanically. “Now is when I would typically try to charm you by reciting something quaint in Japanese, but alas, I’m ill-equipped.”
There was a split-second pause, and then the old man’s face cracked into a thousand different lines as he laughed a strange, guttural cackle. I leaned back imperceptibly to avoid the spray of spit that followed, but I was pleased with my efforts. Despite his crusty exterior, I liked the old man. He reminded me of a few of my patients. I glanced sideways at Marcus for approval, but Marcus was staring at the man like he’d never seen him laugh before. Like he didn’t know he could laugh.
“Don’t speak any Japanese, do you?” he croaked when he was through.
“I learned a poem once,” I admitted. “Something about red dragonflies and a bunch of other beautiful imagery—but to be honest, I only did it to impress a guy in college.”
The uproarious laughter continued, and Marcus stared on in shock. Even Takahari’s aides seemed completely at a loss as to what to do.
When the
old man finally quieted, he took my hand in his own and led me off to the side of the floor, a bewildered Marcus trailing behind. “I am hosting a charity golf tournament in a few days’ time. I hope I will see you there, Becca.”
Not a chance in hell.
“I’ll check my schedule.” I squeezed his arm gently and smiled. “Now stop hogging me, old man, I have a billionaire to land.”
Another spray of spittle, but I was already back in the crowd, weaving my way outside to the door. There was a small commotion behind me, and I thought that I should probably say goodbye to Amanda, or even Marcus—at this point, but every instinct I had was telling me to leave before things got any worse. Both literally and figuratively speaking, I’d been dancing on the edge of a knife all night. It was time to go home.
“I can’t believe you just did that.”
Marcus’ voice behind me made me stop. I turned around to see him standing with two champagne glasses, one in each hand.
Yeah, well, I can’t believe I’ve done a lot of things tonight, I thought.
“I shouldn’t have said the billionaire line,” I said. “But I was just kidding. And he was laughing.” I ran my fingers up my scalp, only to have them buckle against the stiff helmet that used to be my hair. “It was great meeting you. Thanks for playing along. But you’re off the hook now. I’m going to find my friend and we’re going to get going. We had a lovely time at your wonderful party. Thank you for everything.”
He gave me a small smile. “I know you want to leave—but one more drink?” He held up the flutes hopefully and cocked his head up toward a balcony. “To celebrate our success?”
I wanted to go. And maybe I should have. But there’s something fundamentally impossible about leaving a gorgeous man holding a glass of champagne to return to a hovel in East Hollywood. After a moment’s pause, I cracked.