Page 311 of Enigma: The Complete Collection
“Dante,” he fills in. After wiping off the condensation from his hand down his black-waisted apron, he offers it to me to shake.
Everything Dante said was true. For two hours straight, I’ve been propositioning men to dance. I’ve gone from eighteen-year-old boys whose faces are covered in pimples, to older, creepy looking men who are only hitting the club scene to secure a piece of eye candy for the night. Every time I’ve asked them to dance, they readily agree—until recognition dawns at to why I appear familiar.
Cate has been in hysterics watching my failed attempts at securing a dance partner, but mercifully, for the past half an hour, her attention has been rapt on a handsome young man sporting a large cowboy hat. Well, he was wearing a cowboy hat. She knocked it off when weaving her fingers through his hair.
“No luck?” Dante chuckles while he places another cocktail in front of me.
“No. Anyone would swear I was asking them to donate a kidney instead of requesting a dance.”
I take a sizable gulp of my cocktail, wanting to wash away the images of Isaac and Ophelia that have been filtering through my mind nonstop since last night. By keeping my brain hazed with the buzz of alcohol, I can momentarily forget the cluster-fuck hampering my heart.
Once I’ve finished my latest cocktail at a record-setting pace, I place the empty glass onto the counter.
“Can I buy you another?”
My pupils dilate as my surprised gaze shoots to Dante. He purses his lips before roaming his eyes over the mysterious stranger standing next to me. When he nods in approval, I slant my head to the side. My eyes bulge when I'm met with a man whose strikingly handsome good looks arenearlyas stellar as Isaac’s. His sandy blond hair is a little overdue for a trim, and his eyes are light brown. His jaw is strong and defined, and his nose is perfectly straight. If I had to guess his age, I'd say late twenties.
My heart flutters a little faster when he smiles at my avid assessment of his face and body. His smile is so big, two small dimples adorn his cheeks. “Umm… that will be great.” I gesture for him to sit in the spare seat next to me.
He does before ordering another Sex on the Beach for me and a scotch on the rocks for himself from Dante. I stare at him peculiarly, trying to fathom why he's so much braver than any other man here tonight.
“Do you come here often?” I interrogate while sipping on my newly replenished cocktail since my head is spinning.
He takes a mouthful of his scotch before turning his gaze to me. “No, I'm here on business.”
My brows arch as I take another sip of my drink.Now I understand why he's so brave.“Do you come to Ravenshoe often?”
“No, this is my first time here.”
“Do you want to dance?” I query brazenly.
He smiles a panty-drenching smirk. “Sure.”
Excitement beams out of me that I’ve finally secured a dance partner. When I jump up from my seat, I nearly lose my footing. He stabilizes me before downing his shot of whiskey and following me onto the dance floor.
The heat in the club reaches boiling point as the clock inches closer to midnight. My dance companion, Ayden, and I have been dancing to the latest club hits the past forty-five minutes. His dance moves have never gone beyond an inappropriate level, but he has ground his impressive crotch against my backside on numerous occasions—not by choice. There are too many people in one space to maintain an appropriate distance.
As the countdown to the new year merges closer, so do Ayden and I. Our dance moves become more seductive when the alcohol in my blood turns potent.
With only five minutes remaining in the year, Ayden wraps his arms around my waist and pulls me into his firm body. His hips swing seductively in time to the fast beat of the music as his fingertips graze the curve on my backside.
When there's only one minute remaining until midnight, the countdown on the large digital clock hanging over the dance floor commences. My excited, drunken cheers halt at forty-eight seconds when my arm is suddenly seized, and I’m dragged off the dance floor. My heart silently prays it’s Isaac, but with the lack of a jolting zing inflicting my arm, my body knows it isn’t him.
“What the hell are you doing, Izzy?” Hugo asks as his eyes dart between mine.
“What does it look like I’m doing? I’m dancing.”
When I attempt to pad away from him the best I can in my drunken state, he grabs my wrist, stopping my hasty steps. “Dancing? You're not dancing. You're provoking Isaac, trying to force his hand.”
I shake my head, causing a rush of queasiness to hit my stomach. “You don’t know what you’re talking about. He left, Hugo! He walked without so much of a backward glance. He left me. So I’m free to do whatever I please.”
I squirm out of his tight grip before stumbling back to Ayden, my eyes flicking up to the countdown clock on the way. There are only thirty seconds left of this despicable year, and I fully plan on kissing it good riddance with the obligatory midnight kiss.
“Bullshit, Izzy.” Hugo steps between Ayden and me. “You, yourself, had to see if the claims were true, but you don’t expect Isaac to react the same? You're using that guy.” He hooks his thumb to Ayden, who is watching our exchange. “All because you want to antagonize Isaac. All because you want to force him to react.”
I arrogantly shake my head, denying his accusations.
“If it isn’t that, then why go to all this effort? What’s the purpose? A free drink? A grope on the dance floor? A stupid midnight kiss?”
