Page 103 of Danger

Suddenly, the music eases to a stop, and light applause peppers the room. Danger guides me off the dance floor, a hand at the small of my back, and we join the others milling around near the front. A distinguished gentleman in a polished tuxedo steps up to the microphone, tapping it gently to get everyone’s attention. “Good evening, ladies and gentlemen,” he booms, voice echoing in the grand space. “On behalf of the Indy racing community, we’d like to thank all of you for coming out tonight to support our youth outreach program.”

The crowd hushes, and Danger keeps me tucked close to his side. I watch the speaker with keen interest, though my heart is still galloping from that heated moment with Danger.

“As you all know,” the gentleman continues, “our goal this evening is to raise funds to provide educational programs, mechanical workshops, and safe racing experiences for kids who might not otherwise have a chance. We appreciate every single donation. Now, before we begin our auction, I’d like to recognize some notable contributors…”

When the speaker calls out Danger’s name, applause resounds through the hall. Danger offers a gracious nod, his hand never leaving mine. My chest swells with pride for him, for who he is, not just what he represents to the racing world. The speech continues, acknowledging other big donors, including a few of Danger’s sponsors. Then the announcer smiles at me, announcing the Grander Racing Team. I smile and nod, thankful to help out.

The auction starts, with prized racing helmets, suits, and other collectibles going under the hammer. Danger and I watch, occasionally placing a bid here or there.

A swirl of excitement sweeps through me. Is it the adrenaline from the bidding war? Or is it the lingering heat from that corner rendezvous? Either way, my body hums with energy. Once the auction ends, and the program transitions to casual mingling, Danger turns to me, an eager glint in his eye.

“Feel like some fresh air?” he asks over the hum of conversation.

I nod immediately. We slip out onto the hotel’s terrace, where strings of white lights twinkle overhead. Beyond the terrace walls, the shimmering cityscape of Beverly Hills stretches out. A slight breeze rustles the palm trees. It’s a welcome silence.

For a moment, we stand at the railing, gazing at the skyline. Danger wraps an arm around my shoulders, and I lean into him. “This is beautiful,” I remark softly.

He presses his lips to my temple. “Not as beautiful as you.”

A laugh escapes me. “You’re cheesy tonight,” I tease, though I love his affection.

“I can’t help it.” He angles his body so he’s in front of me, effectively blocking out the rest of the view. The string lights cast a faint glow over the planes of his face. “I’m on top of the world, married to the woman of my dreams, at a glamorous party, raising money for a cause I care about. What’s there not to be cheesy about?”

Warmth flutters in my chest. I reach up and remove my mask, letting my face breathe. Danger does the same. For a second, we just look at each other—no disguise, no pretense. I see the sincerity in his eyes, the same tenderness that first made me fall for him.

“Dance with me, Danger,” I whisper, motioning to the small patch of open terrace. The faint music from inside is still audible if you listen closely, though it’s subdued. “One last dance, just you and me.”

He doesn’t hesitate. Gently, he takes my hand, and we sway under the night sky, the city lights glimmering behind us. There’s no formal choreography, just the natural rhythm of two people in love. Our feet barely move, but every shift of our bodies feels deliberate, intimate. He threads his fingers through my hair, tipping my chin up, and I can’t resist kissing him slowly. The breeze flutters around us, carrying the muffled laughter and music from inside.

“You make me crazy,” he murmurs. “In the best way.”

I gaze into his eyes. “I hope that never changes.”

He grins, brushing a lock of hair from my cheek. “It won’t, Mon. I promise.”

For a while, we remain like this, dancing, kissing, sharing whispered confessions that only the stars can hear. My entire body feels alive, pulsing with the memory of our stolen moment in that dark corridor, of how he looked at me on the dance floor, of the vow we renew every time we fall into each other’s arms.

Eventually, the night deepens and the terrace becomes quieter. The clock inside the ballroom strikes the later hours, signaling that the formal festivities are nearing their end. Still, neither of us wants to leave this fleeting sanctuary.

“Do we have to go back in?” I ask, resting my head on his shoulder.

He cradles me in his arms. “Only if you want to. But I think we’ve done our part. We can say good night, slip away.”

I consider it, inhaling the comforting scent of his cologne. “All right. Let’s make the rounds and head out. We’ve got someone special waiting for us at home.”

Danger chuckles, a low rumble in his chest. “Absolutely.” He leans in, voice deepening with unmistakable intention. “Let’s get home.”

Warmth blooms through me. “Well, Mr. Hudson,” I say with a playful lilt, “I’m not one to turn down a night like that.”

He kisses me once more, tender but with enough promise to send a delicious shiver skittering through me. Then we both straighten our clothes, slip our masks back into place—if only for the short walk back through the ballroom—and head inside to offer our goodbyes. Our friends wave, some looking tipsy from the free-flowing champagne, others still animatedly discussing the auction. The host thanks us profusely for our attendance. Danger, gracious as ever, offers a round of handshakes, but keeps me tucked securely under his arm.

We make our exit to a chorus of polite applause and the flash of a few cameras, though less than earlier in the evening. The real rush was at the start, and by now, many have already begun to leave or found their own private corners of the hotel. The night air outside is cooler than before, but Danger’s arm around me keeps me warm. Our limousine waits at the curb, a sleek shadow under the yellowish glow of the streetlights.

As we slide into the backseat, Danger reaches for my hand, lacing our fingers together in a silent, tender promise. I rest my head on his shoulder. “Did you get everything you wanted from tonight?” I ask quietly, gazing at him through lowered lashes.

He turns to me, brushing a thumb over my cheek. “I got more than I ever hoped for. And the night’s not over, love. Not by a long shot.”

A smile curves my lips as I let my eyes close, savoring the way the city lights flicker across my skin. The driver eases the limo into motion, and I feel the subtle hum beneath the seats as we roll away from the Wilshire Beverly Hills. In my mind, I can still taste the champagne, hear the strains of violins, sense the feathered masks and swirling gowns. But all that pales in comparison to the burn in my veins every time Danger’s eyes meet mine.

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