Page 73 of Night's Fall
He swept up her hand and held it to his chest. “Itis my utmost pleasure.”
She just blinked at him, mouth open, andImentally inventoried my evening bag in an effort to remember ifIhad a handkerchief should she drool.
I had one, of course.
I didn’t need it, becauseCatdescended,Igot cheek brushes, and then she pointed inGayle’sface.
“Don’t even think about it.Isaw him first.Ihave dibs,” she warned.
“He just got here, soIsaw him first,”Gaylereturned. “Andyou’re on a date.”
“I saw him on vid onLaura’sPalm,”Catinformed her. “AndI’mon aworkingdate, whereI’mworking andIhave a date.ButIalways keep my options open.”
I glanced around to make sureBashwasn’t close and didn’t hear that.
He wasn’t, so at least that was all good.
It was also indicative of whyCathadn’t made a true connection.Ididn’t know if she was always on the lookout for something better, or she was scared who she found might disappoint her father, or if she was terrified of giving her heart to someone likeDagon.
But whoever she was with, it wasCatwho held herself distant.
“Palm vids don’t count,”Gayleshot back.
“Theysodo,”Catretorted, and turned toSirkand me. “Getchampagne.”ShegaveSirka narrow look and suggested, “Avoidthe hors d’oeuvres.Mycaterers are excellent, butI’vebeen toStainedGlass, and they’re about fifty pegs down from what you’re used to.NowIneed to sell paintings, sculptures and whatTerrintoncalls ‘experiences.’Mustdash.Amusez-vous bien!”
And she was off.
Gayle got close, huddling withSirkand me.
“Okay, this place is a mad crush, but we need to pretend to care about what this obviously somewhat unhinged, no offense to the somewhat unhinged, artist calls art so we can”—she paused to give me two exaggerated winks—“run intoa certain someone.”
“You’d suck at subterfuge,”Isaid out of the side of my mouth. “AndIknow this because you’re using subterfuge, and you suck at it.”
Sirk snickered as he pulledGayleto his left side, curling her fingers around his arm, his opposite hand returned to my back, and with the three off us attached, he led us into the crush.
“Then it’s goodI’ma marketing director and not a spy,” she rejoined while we moved.
We navigated the space, during whichSirkexpertly nabbed three glasses of champagne off a tray, handing two toGayleand me.
As we walked,Isaw all around me whatIexpected to see, sinceIwas a fan (if you will) ofTerrinton’s.
He didn’t create beauty.
He created chaos.
But there was something beautiful about it.
At leastIthought so.
Though, nothing was more beautiful than the tall, black-haired man in his royal-blue suit, who was in a back corner talking to the artist himself, his attention on me, but his chin jutted towardSirk.
Sirk guided us directly there.
He gave a casual bow, andGayleandIdropped into curtsies (mine was much more fluid, sinceMadamGarwahstarted every class with ten minutes of thigh-burning curtsy practice, whichIdoubtedIneeded, she just got a kick out of me collapsing into my desk chair after it was over).
Aleksei andSirkthen did the whole alpha male handshake that started with hands, then moved to grip forearms, beforeSirkturned toGayleand me.
“Your highness…”
