Page 79 of A Game So Reckless

The later it gets, the more couples drift into the centre of the room to dance to the music. It’s been a good mix of songs that are lively enough to party to, but smooth enough to slow dance if you want. Deciding I’ve done enough of my hostess duties for now, I step into the throbbing fray of guests with their masks and feathers and satin gloves.

The moment I begin to move my body to the beat, it abruptly stops. When it starts up again, the song is dominated by string instruments, the saxophone taking a back seat in the slow, romantic roll of the music. Everyone on the floor with me either pairs up or moves to the sides of the room. I stand in the centre of empty space, surrounded by couples slowly rotating in each other’s arms.

Well. This is fun.

I laugh it off. I’ll be able to dance more when the music picks up later. Or, if it really comes down to it, I’m sure I could coax Curse into a slightly awkward cousin dance, like we used to do at weddings when we were kids.

In fact, it seems like he’s anticipated me. From the corner of my eye, I see a figure dressed all in black approach. Even without looking at him full-on, his presence dominates, couples moving out of his way for him even when it isn’t convenient. I turn to face Curse fully, already extending a hand to him.

Except it isn’t Curse. The entire scene falls away on all sides. My hand hovers in the dimly-lit air.

Darragh takes it.

We stand like that for a moment, our hands clasped tightly. Darragh is dressed in a black suit with a black shirt beneath. He’s even wearing a fucking mask. A plain, simple black one that’s moulded to the upper half of his face.

But even with the mask, even in the half-dark, even with the way he’s shown up here when there’s absolutely no reason I should have expected him to, I know it’s him with a certainty that sears my fucking soul. His hand against mine feels so hauntingly familiar, calloused skin and heat that my body recognizes as easily as my own heartbeat. His eyes – one hazel-green, one brown, both shadowed – stare out from behind the mask and swallow me. He’s looking at me like he’s never seen me before.

He's looking at me like he doesn’t ever want to stop. The air thickens in my lungs, in my throat, between us.

“What are you doing here?” I barely manage to whisper.

He blinks slowly, then suddenly inhales, like I’ve woken him from some hazy dream.

“I could make up some shit about wanting to save the little children or whatever all this fundraising is for, but we’d both know that’s not true.”

He gives a tug on my hand, sending me careening forwards against his chest. His other hand goes to my lower back, fingers splaying possessively.

“I came to see you, pet.”

I can’t stop the pathetic rush of pleasure I feel at his words. I sift through the chaotic mixture of guilt and fear and the naked, trembling thrill that overtakes me in his presence.

I don’t know what the hell to say to him.

“You can’t be here,” is what I finally settle on. He doesn’t react at first. Doesn’t let me go. Doesn’t pull away. He just leads me in a languorously slow dance through the room.

“Why not?” he finally murmurs against my hair. My skin pricks. My nipples go taut against his chest. “I paid the thousand dollars for my ticket. Just like everybody else.”

“Ticket or not, you still can’t be here!”

This feels new. Dangerous. Darragh and I have only ever been together in the dark. Reckless snatches of stolen nights. Alone.

Always alone.

But here he is, moving through this group of my family’s allies like he belongs here.

Just like he stood in my kitchen that day, or on the shores of Georgian Bay.

Like he belonged those places, too.

But he doesn’t. He can’t. He can’t be with me like this. Even if he’s got business with papà these days, there’s no way Curse or any of the soldiers are going to let him dance with me like this for long. They wouldn’t even let some harmless fucking nobody dance with me like this, with one hand laying claim to my fingers, the other so low on my back his fingertips are brushing my ass.

“Come on,” I whisper. I pull out of his grip, but he doesn’t let me go. Not all the way, at least.

He keeps his hand on mine.

Not wanting to draw any extra attention to us, I don’t try to extricate my hand from his. I just start walking.

He follows.

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