Page 73 of Wild Hit
Okay, someone’s gasping nearby now. Thank you for being such an excellent unpaid extra.
Wait, why is Audrey staring at me like this is the most shocking thing I’ve ever done, and not breaking a swing speed record or something like that?
But then she gets with the program. Her expression softens into a smile that hits me in the chest like a donkey’s kick, and she leans her head on my right peck like it belongs there. The scent of something sweet—apple, maybe—drifts to my nostrils, and I drag in as much as it takes to commit it to memory.
Her father spears me with flinty eyes. “You did not.”
Me, a top notch specimen of maturity, volley back a “did too.”
Audrey snorts hard into her hand. She recovers quickly, though. “Dad, I have to thank you for introducing me to Miguel. I know it’s been really fast but he really is the love of my life, and I know that you approve of him or you wouldn’t have introduced us, right?”
I haven’t dealt with this mogul a very long time, but I’d hazard a guess that the fact that he’s used to controlling the world around him with money or sheer presence, makes this moment more significant. Because he turns into a statue that has lost the ability to use words, even though it’s clear he wants to use many vile ones.
Meanwhile, I’m staring at the top of Audrey’s head in awe. I mean, shit, I already knew that she’s smart. She can math and philosophize, a conversation with her is full of fun twists and turns, and I once heard that sarcasm is a marker of smart people—and she exercises it at a master level.
But to use her father’s own manipulative and threatening words from months ago against him?
This is some 3D chess shit. I feel both inadequate and turned on, and I can’t explain it.
Still taking advantage of the older man’s silence, she adds, “I’ll work with Karen on Monday to put out a statement thatwill include our kinship, which I believe will fulfill all of your conditions.”
Charlie Cox flaps his mouth open and closed. My body moves by instinct and I catch the glass slipping from his hand. After making sure he’s holding it again, I turn back to his daughter.
“Look, mi vida. That’s our song,” I bullshit about some random waltz that’s starting. I offer my hand to her. “Shall we?”
“Of course.” She sounds chipper than ever. When we’re away from her father, she asks, “What does mi vida mean?”
“Ehh, it’s just an endearment.” I’m sure she’ll find out sooner or later what it means, but I’ve already put my foot in my mouth enough times today. As we start dancing, I direct our conversation to the most important thing. “How do you feel after all that?”
“Electric.” Her eyes are wide enough that she could’ve been zapped, actually. “Deep down, I know there will be consequences, but I’m trying to ignore all that and focus on the present.”
“Good call.” There won’t be any consequences under my watch, though.
Something snags my attention over her head. Charlie Cox and the jackass who was his first choice for Audrey’s husband are watching us with zero reservation. In fact, people near them are starting to do the same.
Pulling her against me, I gently turn us around and whisper in her ear, “My six o’clock.”
Of course she knows what I’m talking about right away. Audrey leans to peek around and the way her expression hardens tells me she spotted the same thing I did. “Ugh,” she mutters.
“Ready?”
She looks back up at me, not getting it this time. “What for?”
“A big show.” I slide my hands down her bare arms slowly, like I have all the time in the world to explore her skin. She only glances down once I’ve reached her hands. “Remember our wedding night?” The corners of my mouth rise.
“Which part specifically?”
“The one where we danced real close,” I answer in a measured tone, more so for my own benefit. I’m working really hard at keeping it together. “I’m thinking it would be a quite scandalous thing to do around here.”
The same sort of mischievous smile comes to her face, and with that she’s waved off the dark cloud that briefly fell over her upon seeing the jackass. “But with a waltz? Really?”
“Oh yeah. Watch this.”
“Boy, those are famous last words—eek!”
I twirl her around and bring her back flush against me like I’m not afraid of dying tonight, and wrap my arms around her while still holding her hands. A couple of dancing pairs nearby give us nasty looks, like how dare we disrespect their waltz culture. What’s up with rich people and boring music, though?
Guess I should be glad, though. If this was reggaeton I’d be in serious trouble.
