Page 35 of Bloody Lace

Something crosses her face, an expression that I can’t quite read, but it vanishes in an instant. “Let’s dance, then,” she says, standing up as she tosses back the last of the champagne in her glass, and we walk out to the dance floor.

I know why she needed the drink. I feel like I need something stronger than champagne as I take her in my arms, my pulse beating hard in my ears as I feel the smooth, soft shape of her under the stiff lace of her dress. I’ve danced with her twice before, and every time the feeling of my palm against the small of her back makes me ache with need, lust firing through my veins as I imagine touching her bare spine with my fingertips, sliding them up her back as she rides me.

My cock stiffens instantly, and I keep an inch of space between us as we dance, not wanting her to feel how hard I am. How badly I want to disappear with her into any room in this hotel, and make her my wife in every single way.

Evelyn notices the distance. “We’re supposed to be selling this, aren’t we?” she murmurs as I spin her and pull her in again, but not too close. “Or does it not matter, now that the vows have been said?”

She moves in closer as she whispers it, before I can stop her, and the front of her body brushes against mine. I see her eyes widen as she feels me press against her, her red lips parting slightly, and I have to bite back a groan as my cock throbs painfully.

“Oh,” she whispers, swallowing hard, and the movement of her throat sends another jolt of hot lust down my spine.

I can see her thoughts racing as we finish the dance, as she keeps the careful space between us now. “Excuse me,” she says as we leave the floor, other couples moving past us, twisting away from the touch of my hand on the small of her back as she heads for the doors of the reception hall. “I need some air.”

“Evelyn—” I start to say her name, but she’s already moving through the crowd. I want to go after her, but it seems abundantly clear to me that that’s very muchnotwhat she wants. And so I stand there, watching her go, before I retreat to the sweetheart table to try and calm down my rampaging lust.

The minutes tick by, one after another, and when I glance at my watch and see that it’s been fifteen, I start to worry. I see Dahlia out on the dance floor, being spun around by some man who is clearly hoping to go home with her, so I know she isn’t with Evelyn.

What if she left?It seems nonsensical, but I could feel how nervous she was after she brushed up against me, and felt howmuch I wanted her. Evelyn is no blushing virgin, and nothing is meant to happen between us tonight anyway, but still?—

I can’t sit and wait any longer. I’m too worried about where she might have gone, and underneath that, I can feel a building fear that she might actually have run out on me. The idea makes me feel slightly panicked, but not for the reasons it should. Not because of the deal, or because it could cause the marriage to be annulled, or because I’ve already spent an ostentatious amount of money on her and this wedding.

It’s very simply because I don’t want her to be gone. And that’s not at all how I should feel.

Still, she’s my wife. A part of our deal was that I protect her, and I fall back on that, rather than admitting the truth to myself—that I miss her. I miss her being in the room with me.

I sweep through the crowd of guests, nodding and murmuringhelloandI’ll be right backwhen I’m stopped, getting more and more agitated with every step. I half expected her to come sweeping back in through the doors before I got to them, but there’s still no sign of her.

I step out into the hall, the heavy doors closing behind me, the music and sounds of the party quieting to a dull hum. I swear I can smell her orange perfume out here, and I glance around, wanting some sign of where she’s gone. I see a sign with directions to the restrooms, and I head that way, with no better clues and assuming she might have gone to touch up her makeup.

Three turns and a step down the hallway that leads to the lounge and restrooms, I see her.

My pulse instantly leaps into my throat, my hands curling into fists. It’s not just Evelyn standing outside the door to the lounge. There’s a man standing in front of her, someone I don’t recognize, with dark hair and dressed in a suit that looks just slightly ill-fitting. Most people wouldn’t notice, but Ispend enough time with people dressed in expert tailoring that I recognize someone who wants to look like he fits in here, but just doesn’t quite pass muster.

I can’t hear what he’s saying, but Evelyn’s eyes are wide, her hands pressed against the wall behind her like she wants to get away. She looks terrified, and a red haze washes over my vision, my feet carrying me forward before I even fully realize what I’m doing.

My fist closes around the back of the man’s collar and I yank him away from her, dragging him back sharply and flinging him against the wall behind me. Evelyn gasps, letting out a small cry of shock, but I’m already rounding on the man, my arm pressing against his chest as I grab his jaw in my other hand and press my fingers in.

“Who the fuck are you?” I snarl. “And what the fuck were you doing talking to my wife?”

The man starts to struggle, swinging at my side with his fist, and it connects. But I hardly notice it, I’m so fucking furious. I wrench his head to one side, digging my thumb into the corner of his jaw.

“Evelyn, get Vik,” I snap, still focused on the man I’m pinning to the wall. “Hurry.”

I see her move out of the corner of my eye in a flash of white, and the man struggles, making a choking sound as he tries to swing at me again.

“If my men have to get the answers out of you,” I warn, “you won’t fucking like it. I suggest you tell me now.”

He rears back, and for a moment I think he’s going to try to headbutt me. But he doesn’t have the range of motion, and instead he sucks in a breath, hawking a glob of spit at me just as I hear footsteps pounding down the hall behind me.

“I’ve got him, boss.” Vik’s voice carries through the air behind me, and I step back just in time for Vik and two moreof my men to grab him, hauling him away from the wall. “We’ll figure out what’s going on here. Get back to your wedding.”

Evelyn is standing there, stunned as she watches Vik and the other two drag the man away. She blinks at me for several long seconds, then turns towards the door of the lounge, ducking inside just long enough to come back out with a handful of paper towels.

“Here,” she says, and her voice sounds hollow. “Your face is a mess.”

“Thanks.” I start to wipe the man’s spit away, and as I do, I see that Evelyn’s hands are trembling. I throw away the wadded towels, looking at her with concern. The anger over seeing some man on the verge of putting his hands on my wife is still surging through me, but my worry for her is fighting for priority.I should be worried about what he wanted,I remind myself, and take a breath.

“What did he say to you?”

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