Page 80 of Stripped

Chapter 36

Wraith watched as she spun around in front of him. "Do I look okay?" she asked, trying to look over her shoulder to see the back of the dress in the mirror.

"You look beautiful."

The dress was scandalous. Made of black satin, it was cut with a deep-plunging neckline which went well below her breasts, held up by thin straps. It was backless and the slit up the leg went almost to her hip. On anyone else, it might be inappropriate, but with her body and considering she was now the belle of the ball, it was breathtaking.

He kissed her on the neck. "Please stay close to me tonight."

She gave him a smile, reapplying her red lipstick. "But with all these fans, I'm not sure—"

"Watch it, lass." He gave her a swift smack to her bottom and her eyes opened wide. Bouquets of flowers had been arriving at her dressing room door in droves. The room already smelled like a flower shop from the ones delivered by Peter, Niall, Paul, the SNB board, Graham Rankin and Gabriel. Even Alex sent a vase of yellow primroses. Wraith was just thankful Viktor Sokolov had kept quiet and not made an appearance tonight.

"I'm ready," she said, grabbing her purse.

"I don't want to give you up to your crowd of admirers." He gave her one last kiss, his mouth brushing her ear. "You've made me the happiest man tonight."

He took her arm, tucking it into the crook of his elbow, and led her out of the sanctity of the room and into the lion's den.

* * *

Pim looked around at the crowd. Wraith had found Gabriel and Alex almost immediately. "Watch her while I get her something to eat and drink."

"You were amazing, Pim," Gabriel said. "When you said you were a ballet dancer, I had no idea."

"I'm sorry Sokolov never showed. I'm afraid it's been a waste of your time." She continued to scan the crowd. Peter was in a corner, surrounded by reporters, enjoying every minute.

"On the contrary," Alex said. "He was here. There's no way his ego would be denied this opportunity.

"What makes you say that?"

"Sinclair thought he spotted something. He's checking it out. But don't worry," Alex said, rubbing her shoulder. "You're safe."

"Excuse me, I need to use the toilet." She stepped back.

"I'll go with you." Gabriel followed her out the door into the hallway.

"It's really not necessary."

He stopped across the hall from the ladies' room. "I'll wait right here. It's not a problem."

Pim opened the door. The bathroom was empty, and she was thankful to have a minute alone. She opened her purse and pulled out the card. If you want mercy, cry uncle- VS. Dear God, what did he mean? To cry uncle, was to admit defeat. She had only heard the term used a few times when someone was demanding an opponent to submit. Was he asking her to submit? Hadn't she been doing that all along, every time she danced? She could hear female laughter outside the door. She needed more time to think. There was another door on the opposite side of the room. Opening it, she saw that it led out to the promenade. Guests mingled in the open area, laughing and talking in small groups. She made her way to the front entrance, leaving. The air was cold, the night clear and crisp. She sat down on a bench, thinking. Viktor often spoke in riddles. She looked up and saw there was a commotion at the front doors. "Please help me," a blonde girl was saying to the doorman.

"Natasha?" Pim called out, standing up. "Is everything okay?"

"Hamish has run off. I've searched inside. I don't think he came outside, but I wanted to make sure."

"He's missing?" Pim asked, a dull ache forming in her stomach.

"He's curious. I told him to stay in his seat, but when I got back, he was gone. He's probably hiding."

Cry uncle. Bloody hell. She thought of the connections in her tangled family tree. Hamish was her grandfather's son. That made him her uncle. Sokolov had Hamish. She didn't want to panic Natasha. Where the fuck would he have taken him?

"I need to get back inside and look," the girl said. "Thank you for the invitation. You were beautiful tonight. Your grandfather would have been proud."

She nodded, her mind going in different directions. Sokolov must have sent Natasha the ticket so he could take the boy.

The nearest subway station entrance was over ten minutes away. With it being the last night of the festival, the streets were packed with out-of-town visitors, and taxis were plentiful. Pim easily flagged down a black cab, getting in. "Òran Mór off of Byres road," she said to the young man driving. He started the meter. "I'm in a hurry."

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