Page 29 of The Perfect Mistake

I look up at him. “How so?”

But he just shakes his head. “It’s a good thing I have you to make me look good.”

I smile. “Is that why you asked me to dance?”

Our eyes meet, and something flares in his gaze. I lean closer to him and feel the heat of his breath on my cheek. His hand is tight where it grips mine, enveloping my fingers completely. I’ve never had those hands of his on my body before.

For a moment, we just seem to freeze, looking at one another.

“Yes,” he finally says. “That’s why I asked you.”

“Oh.”

His eyes drop down to my lips, and a knot tightens in my stomach. “Alec,” I say. “Thank—”

He snaps his gaze over my shoulder, and his frown gets replaced by a carefully neutral mask. It’s the face of a man used to schooling his features. His voice turns resigned. “My sister is about to steal you away.”

Connie arrives with the force of a whirlwind. She’s grinning, happiness shining in her green eyes. Her auburn hair is up in a chignon, and the navy dress looks like it’s painted on her curves.

“Isabel! I didn’t see you arrive.” She pulls me out of Alec’s arms and into a hug. “How good of you to dance with my brother.”

“I’m right here,” Alec says dryly.

Connie gives him a crooked smile. “Yes, and I really appreciate you coming. I invited some of the Bransons, by the way. You could discuss the upcoming acquisition.”

He raises an eyebrow. “You want me to work?”

“I want you to enjoy yourself,” she says, “and I know that’s your favorite activity. Now, come, Isabel. I want to introduce you to some people. Gabriel has a ton of hot cousins.”

She tugs me away. Alec’s eyes are narrowed on us, his mouth set in that faint frown again. I wonder what he’s thinking. I’ve always wondered that…

But I’m no closer to knowing.

Connie does introduce me to people. So many people. I appreciate the effort, even if my head spins after the fourth introduction. She knows as well as I do that my friendship circle is small. Hers is, too. We’ve always been career-focused, and spending the weekends together during yoga or watching movies has been the core of our friendship. It never involved glitzy parties and glasses of champagne.

I’m on my fifth now. Or maybe sixth?

I don’t know anymore. But I do know I’m enjoying myself. If this is what normal people do, it’s all starting to make sense now. Maybe it’s a good thing I fell in love with ballet so early in life or I wouldn’t have been able to commit to it.

“You’re beautiful,” a man says. He’s someone’s cousin or maybe brother, and he’s wearing a wide smile that seems more than a little alcohol-induced. “Anyone ever told you that?”

I laugh politely, taking a step back from him. “Once or twice.”

“Well, let me be the third or fourth,” he says.

Okay.

Maybe it’s time for me to grab some air.

I excuse myself from the group and the flirty gentleman and look around for the terrace. There’s one around here… there. A sign. I walk across the room as fast as I’m able in my kitten heels. I’m only used to sneakers and pointe shoes.

Cold air washes over me as I pull the door open. Night has fallen, but there’s never true darkness in New York, and the city glitters around me. I step out on the terrace and breathe in deeply. The air smells like rain and fall.

Wrapping my arms around my chest, I breathe in again. And again. My head spins faintly, and then stronger, a sinking feeling swarms in my stomach.

I shouldn’t have drunk as much as I did.

Not that there’s a purpose for being restrained anymore. Not for my careful sleep schedule or my stretching regimen or my foam rolling. I don’t have a purpose anymore.

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