Page 68 of Dating Goals
I scan the crowded ballroom for Griffin’s tall frame, my eyes darting from face to face. Where is he? Did something happen to him already?
But the sea of black tuxedos and evening gowns blurs together.
A server passes with a tray of champagne. I grab a glass and drain it in one gulp, ignoring his startled look. Liquid courage. I need to find Griffin, tell him we need to leave, without revealingwhy. How am I supposed to do that? Not making an untoward proposition, I can tell you that much.
I push through clusters of laughing guests, murmuring apologies as I search. The orchestra’s melancholy song perfectly matching my growing sense of dread.
Then I spot him across the room, his broad shoulders unmistakable even from behind. He’s standing near one of the massive windows that overlook the snow-covered mountains, his back to me.
Relief floods through me. He’s safe. He’s right there.
Now, I just need to get him out of here before whatever danger those strange people warned me about materializes. I start toward him, rehearsing excuses in my head. Food poisoning? Migraine? Sudden urge to make out in the helicopter?
Then I see something that stops me cold.
Oh.
My feet freeze to the floor. The air rushes from my lungs as though someone’s punched me in the stomach.
I blink hard, hoping I’m imagining things. That what I’m seeing is just a trick of the light, or too much champagne, or the stress of being threatened in a fancy bathroom.
But it’s still there when I open my eyes.
The orchestra continues playing, but the music seems to fade away. The laughter around me becomes distant, like I’m underwater. All I can focus on is what’s happening across the room.
My throat tightens. A strange, hollow feeling spreads through my chest.
He’s not who you think he is.
I thought?—
No. It doesn’t matter what I thought. I was wrong. So very wrong.
I was so stupid. So, so stupid to think that tonight was magical.
But now I have a choice to make. Do I trust those strangers’ warning and drag Griffin out of here? Or was their warning part of something else entirely?
Griffin turns slightly, and for a brief moment, our eyes meet across the crowded room. Something flickers across his face. Surprise? Guilt?
I back away slowly, nearly colliding with a dancing couple. I apologize and pivot, the room tilting sideways.
I need to get out of here. Away from this party. Away from Griffin.
Away from the truth that’s staring me in the face.
I turn to look for the exit, but before I can do anything, a hand closes around my arm, and a voice whispers in my ear.
“I told you to leave, Miss Gisler. Now it’s too late.”
The man presses two fingers over his ear. “Meridian, we’ve got company.”
The man’s fingers dig into my arm like talons. “Let go of me,” I hiss, trying to wrench away.
Instead of releasing me, he spins me around so forcefully I nearly lose my footing, pulling me against his chest in what must look like an intimate embrace to anyone watching. My hands instinctively press against his lapels to create distance, but he’s as solid as a brick wall.
“Act naturally,” he murmurs, his mouth close to my ear. “Smile. Dance. Don’t draw attention.”
He begins swaying us to the music, one hand splayed possessively across my lower back. My feet stumble as he continues to move us in time with the music.
