Page 110 of Terror Tuesday
Her body relaxes in my arms while I memorize what her heart feels like under my palm. After a few moments of silence, I gather her long, dark hair and lay it over one shoulder, then help her straighten up. She watches me in contemplation, every move I make, even as I stuff myself back into my trousers.
“I…don’t know what to say.” Throat tightening as she swallows, she appears shy. “I feel like I have to learn who you are all over again.”
I ditch my gloves, tossing them aside, then lace our fingers together. Skin to skin. She lets me. Maybe there’s a hint of grace in her expression as she glances at my face.
“Understandable,” I say, lifting our joined hands. “But these fit.Wefit.”
In a voice like a dream, she says, “I remember.” Our gazes match for a long moment, causing my heart to beat harder as we catch our breaths. Her warm hand presses on my cheek, and she steals my air. “Next time, I want to look at your face, Valen. Yourrealface.”
If I could form a sentence to reply, I would. But I’m spellbound by her. Intoxicated. She’s captivated me. And she doesn’t even know how much.
thirty
ELLIOT
President’s Luncheon
I’ve donea great job of staying invisible. They know me as Valen, but no one really pays me much attention. It’s easy to get lost upstairs, scoping out the bedroom situation. Then, President Harvey’s office. It’s locked. But at least I have time to memorize how many steps it is from the main hall.
Hmm, back library situation near the woods…
A waiter makes a stab in that direction, leaving the door wide open, and I skirt inside like I’m chasing a drink.
With a quick check over my shoulder, I slip on my glove and jimmy the window. It’s too tight, but could work. I pull out some oil from my pocket, then a file, and work on the latch. In just a few seconds, I’ve got it so on the third rattle, it will slide wide open without a sound.
Just as I finish and shove everything back into my pockets, a sharp step echoes from the main party room. I freeze, glancing around for some excuse as to why I’m here…
Drinks. That’s right.
Someone stumbles on the threshold over the rug.
Shit!
I recognize that bag. That hair. Those heels. And those incredible legs…
Olivia fucking Cardell just tripped into the room.
My chest tightens like a noose. Breath halts.Fuck. Fuck. What do I do?
She’s not supposed to be in here. No one is. I chose this window because the caterer uses this side door to sneak smokes and take bribes. No one important ever wanders back here during the president’s luncheons.
Except her.
And for some reason, instead of vanishing like I should, I bend down and help her.
“Sorry!” she blurts, flustered and breathless.
She looks at me—and,fuck me—I can’t move. Can’t breathe. Can’t find a word. Her lip gloss is still wet. Her lashes long. I’m on bended knee in front of this queen, and she smells like my redemption.
This close, she’s real. More real than any of the nights I’ve spent reading her diary. Watching her sleep. Watching herbreak. Skin practically touching mine. I’m humming to get closer.
“Why?” I ask, before I even know what I’m doing. “Why are you sorry? That fucking rug should be sorry…”
I ramble. Joke. Flirt. I have no idea what comes out of my mouth. But she smiles.
And I know instantly…I’ve gone too far.
She laughs like I’ve never heard before. The trickling, joyous sound stabs me in the ribs and sets something burning inside. My hands are still shaking slightly as I give her the bag, but I stuff them into my pockets like it’s nothing.
