Page 63 of Salem's Fall
Not because I don’t want to.
Because I do.
Very much. Maybe too much—he’s my client, after all. A man accused of murder. A man who’s been keeping secrets from me since the day we met.
But then I remind myself—this is just a silly society ball. A fantasy. So I place my hand in his, and Damien Blackhollow pulls me into his arms, twirling me across the floor like something out of a fairy tale.
If fairy tales had murder suspects for princes.
The music swells around us, strings rising in perfect harmony as Damien spins me across the floor. It’s effortless, like we’ve done this a hundred times before. His grip is firm but not forceful, his movements smooth and controlled. His fingers flex slightly around my waist, like he’s memorizing the shape of me. And his expression… the way he’s looking at me while we dance—like I’m something rare, somethingtreasured—sends a soft buzzing through my entire body.
Too soon, the song ends.
“I’m afraid I have to make my rounds for a bit, though I’d much rather stay here with you in my arms,” Damien says, voice low. But instead of stepping back, he leans in—lips brushing the shell of my ear. “Don’t dance with anyone else,”he murmurs, almost like a command cloaked as a plea. “Not tonight. You’re mine.”
Then, with a last lingering glance, he pulls away and disappears into the crowd to do whatever powerful men like him do at events like these. Handshaking. Social maneuvering. Kissing babies, maybe. A king moving through his kingdom.
I drift away from the dance floor, slipping toward the edge of the room to quietly observe things while he attends to his business. Champagne glasses clinking in delicate hands. Laughter rising in polite, controlled bursts. I scan the crowd, my gaze searching before I fully realize what I’m looking for. But Quinn isn’t here tonight, even though his father, the Senator, is one of the Gala chairs.
I tell myself I don’t care, but a strange hollowness settles in my chest. With a steadying breath, I push the sad thoughts away. Tonight is for cutting loose and having a little fun. I don’t want to dwell on my issues with Quinn or the firm right now. They’ll still be here tomorrow.
“Well, well. Look who it is.”
I turn, and my stomach twists, a wave of nausea rolling through me.
William Winthrop stands in front of me. My cheating ex from hell. Smug. Smirking. Every bit the perfect, polished prep-school-boy-turned-lawyer. Blond. Blue-eyed. Indistinguishable from every other trust-fund WASP in New England. And clinging to his arm, looking similarly smug? Jess. My equally awful ex-best friend. Redheaded, pale, and sharp-featured, with a nose just a pinch too large and beakish, like an overconfident hawk circling for a kill.
My jaw tightens, but I force my expression into something neutral. Indifferent. I refuse to give these two assholes the satisfaction of knowing they can still get to me.
“Will. Jess,” I say, my tone flat and unimpressed. “Didn’t expect to run into you two tonight.”
William lets out a dry chuckle. “And why is that? Didn’t think my family could still get tickets?” he asks. “I’ve heard the invite list is even more exclusive this year, but Mom is on the fundraising committee now.”
“No, that’s not why,” I say coolly. “I was just hoping I’d see you first so I could avoid you.”
Jess makes a sound that’s almost a laugh, but it’s breathy, fake. “Oh, James. You always did have a sharp tongue.”
William grins, full of himself. “Her tongue is one of the things I liked best about her.”
Another sickening twist coils in my gut.
Ugh, gross.
I can’t believe he just said that, and in front of his new girlfriend too. I really don’t know what I ever saw in the guy.
“So, how’d you get invited?” William asks, eyes sweeping over me with thinly veiled skepticism. “Doesn’t seem like your scene.”
I offer a small, cool smile. “People change, Will. And you don’t really know me anymore.”
His smirk falters for a split second, but he recovers quickly, glancing at Jess, who looks equally curious.
“How’ve you been, James?” she asks, her voice honeyed but patronizing. “We haven’t seen you in ages. We miss you.”
As if she didn’t rip my heart out and stomp all over it.
As if they weren’t the ones who betrayed me.
“I’ve been busy,” I say.
