The Other Side Of Midnight

“The fruit can’t be taken, Daniel. It has to be given,” a voice murmurs smoothly.

Instantly, my body relaxes as if it knows that nothing and no one can hurt me while Rocco is around. A wild excitement fizzles in my veins. Rocco is here in New York. I thought I wouldn’t see him again until Monday. I watch Daniel’s face lose its horror and settle back into its original slick, slightly smug expression.

“Then you should pick it, and fast, the smell of the fruit is all around the room.” Daniel swivels his eyes around the room as he speaks.

I follow the direction of his gaze and see that indeed there are people watching us avidly. Their eyes drop or move away quickly when they catch my eyes.

“Are you giving me advice?” Rocco asks, his voice deceptively soft, but steely.

“Not at all. Merely, pointing out the inescapable fact that time is passing… and we are all waiting.” His mouth widens. It is not a smile, but a dangerous stretching of lips.

I look up and see Rocco stretch his lips too. There is no amusement in his face.

It is as if he, Rocco, and I are speaking a secret language. A language that I cannot properly understand, but both Rocco and he are fluent in.

Daniel looks at me then spreads his hands out to his sides before he gives a courtly, extravagant bow. “Good evening, Miss Delaney. I wish you an interesting evening.” As he passes close to me, a whiff of something horribly rotten fills my nostrils and I immediately pinch my nose with my fingers.

“Ugh! He just farted on us,” I complain incredulously.

Rocco takes the seat Daniel vacated. He looks breathtakingly handsome in a black tux. Under the lights his hair shines and his eyes are like gemstones. Ignoring my comment about Daniel’s dirty parting gift, he says, “You look beautiful tonight.”

“Thank you, so do you,” I murmur, taking my fingers off my nose.

A waiter comes by with a tray of champagne flutes, but Rocco shakes his head.

“Are you not drinking?” I ask curiously.

“I never consume anything for which I do not know its source.”

I tilt my head and look at him curiously. “You know that is a very strange habit, right?”

“Yes. I’m fastidious like that,” he says simply.

“Care to tell me what that exchange with Daniel was about?”

“It is a long story. I will explain it later tonight,” he replies seriously, as his eyes drop to the amulet.

I am suddenly filled with curiosity to see how he will react to touching it. “It’s very old. Want to touch it?”

He reaches out a hand and I find myself holding my breath. His hand gets closer and closer, then I feel his fingers brush my skin, as he lifts the locket up. My breath comes out in a rush.

“What are you doing here?” I whisper hoarsely. I can feel my heart beating faster.

He lets go of the locket. “I was invited.”

I run my finger along the condensation outside of my glass, then look at him from beneath my lashes. “Did you know I would be here?”

“Yes,” he admits quietly.

“Who told you?”

“My sister.”

Understanding dawns. “Ah. And she invited you here too.”

He nods.

I glance back towards the edge of the stage, to where Sam is staring with an enraptured look at the Professor while he explains something to her. Then I turn my attention back to Rocco. Suddenly, it all made sense. Something always felt wrong. A prize for a student and her friend that included being flown first class, limo service from the airport, a luxurious suite at the Four Seasons, Dom Perignon champagne, and carte blanche use of the Spa and room service.

I exhale softly. “Is your sister the reason Sam and I are here?”

“Yes.”

If she spent that much money and trouble to get us here she must want something, something big. “What does she want with us?”

“She doesn’t want anything from your friend. Just you.”

I feel a cold finger of fear run down my spine. “What does she want from me?”

“I will tell you tonight. First, I need to introduce you to some people.” He stands and shoots his cuffs.

“This thing you have to tell me tonight, it’s bad, isn’t it?”

“Like I said before, it depends on the person. Some people will love the concept and dive right in, and others will hate it with all their being.”

I wrinkle my nose. “Like Marmite?”

“Not quite, but you get the picture.”

“By the way I hate Marmite,” I say with a laugh.

“I’ve never tasted it, but it smells disgusting.”

I catch his hand, my voice more desperate than I expected it to be, “I can trust you, right?”

He looks deep into my eyes. “With your life.”

Unless he is a complete, utter, and total psychopath I feel certain I can trust him.

Chapter 38

Autumn

“Are we leaving the hotel?” I ask, slipping off the bar stool to face him.