Chapter Ten – First Moves
1425 Words
I pulled my hand away before he could say anything else. “Excuse me,” I said lightly. “I think I need another drink.”
Landon smiled, that confident tilt of his head I once found charming. “Then let me get it for you.”
“I’m fine,” I replied, taking a small step back. “You should enjoy the party.”
“I’ll enjoy it right here,” he said. “With you.”
I looked around, pretending to be distracted by the orchestra starting up again. The violins swelled, the music soft but charged. I tried to look bored, like a woman who had already been approached a hundred times that night.
He noticed. “You don’t like parties?” he asked.
“I like quiet,” I said, sipping from my half-empty glass. “And honest people.”
He gave a quick laugh. “Good luck finding either here.”
“That’s what I figured.”
His laugh faded. He tilted his head slightly, his eyes narrowing the way they used to when he was trying to remember something. “You really do remind me of someone.”
“I get that a lot.”
“Do you?” he asked. “Who do they say you look like?”
“No one worth mentioning.”
He chuckled, but his eyes didn’t move from my face. “You talk like her too.”
My stomach tightened. “Like who?”
He hesitated. “Someone I used to know.”
“Used to?” I asked. “What happened to her?”
“She left.” He paused, smiling faintly. “Or maybe I pushed her away.”
I gave a short smile. “Sounds like a personal problem.”
That made him laugh for real. “You’re something else, you know that?”
“Not really,” I said, turning toward the crowd again. “Just someone trying to have a drink in peace.”
He leaned a little closer. “You’re not wearing a ring. You single?”
I smiled without looking at him. “You don’t strike me as someone who respects boundaries.”
“Only when they’re interesting.” He grinned. “You’re interesting.”
“I’m sure you say that to every woman who ignores you.”
He smirked. “Only the ones who make it look good.”
Before I could respond, a deep voice cut in.
“Landon,” Dante said behind him. “You’re harassing my guest.”
Landon turned, startled. “I was just talking to her.”
“Your talking sounds a lot like cornering.” Dante stepped closer, his hand resting lightly on the small of my back. “Miss Marks, are you all right?”
The warmth of his hand through the thin fabric of my dress was distracting. “Perfectly fine,” I said.
“Good.” His tone softened as he looked at me, then shifted back to Landon. “Why don’t you find someone else to bother?”
Landon laughed awkwardly. “You think she’s one of your employees?”
“No. But I think she’d rather talk to me.”
Landon looked between us, uneasy now. “You two seem to be getting along well.”
“Maybe we are,” Dante said smoothly. “Why don’t you go check on your Chloe? She was asking for you earlier.”
Landon hesitated, his mouth tightening, but he finally gave me a small smile. “We’ll talk later, Elena.”
“Sure,” I said, already turning away. But I hated that he was here with her.
Dante waited until Landon was gone before speaking. “You handled that well.”
“I’ve had practice.”
“Dealing with men like him?”
“Dealing with men, period.”
He gave a quiet laugh. “Fair point.”
We stood near one of the tall windows that overlooked the city. The view was stunning, lights scattered like fallen stars. I focused on it, needing something steady.
“You’re new to the city?” he asked.
“For now,” I said. “I don’t plan to stay long.”
“That’s a shame.” His eyes moved over my face, calm but curious. “The city could use a few people who actually mean what they say.”
“Or maybe it chews them up too fast,” I said.
He smiled faintly. “You sound like you’ve been chewed up once or twice.”
I let out a small laugh. “Maybe I have.”
He tilted his head slightly. “What brings you to a charity event, then? You don’t look like the type who likes social climbing.”
“Observation,” I said, meeting his eyes. “People are very honest when they think no one is watching.”
“Ah.” His smile widened. “And what have you observed about me so far?”
“That you like control,” I said. “You move through a room like you own it.”
“I do own it,” he said, amused.
“Then that makes sense.”
He laughed quietly, shaking his head. “You’re direct.”
“Do you prefer flattery?”
“No,” he said, lowering his voice slightly. “I prefer honesty.”
“Good,” I said. “Then we have that in common.”
A waiter passed by, and Dante took two glasses from the tray, handing one to me. “Try this,” he said. “It’s a Bordeaux from my private collection.”
I accepted it. “You brought your own wine?”
“When I can’t trust the bar, yes.”
“That sounds like something a man with secrets would say.”
“Maybe I am a man with secrets,” he said. “Does that bother you?”
“Not at all,” I said, taking a sip. “Secrets make people interesting.”
“And dangerous.”
“Sometimes that’s the same thing.”
He smiled, but there was something thoughtful in his eyes. “You don’t scare easily, do you?”
“I used to.”
“What changed?”
“Experience.”
“Good answer.”
We stood in silence for a moment. The orchestra began to play again, a slower song this time. Couples were already stepping onto the dance floor.
“Do you dance?” he asked.
“I try not to.”
“Why?”
“I like watching more than moving.”
“That’s a pity.” His tone softened. “You look like someone who should be dancing.”
I laughed. “You sound like someone who doesn’t take no for an answer.”
“I don’t. But I’ll give you a break tonight.”
“How kind of you.”
“Only because you intrigue me.”
“Careful,” I said, setting my glass down. “That sounds dangerously close to flirting.”
“I’m not very good at pretending,” he said.
“Neither am I.”
He leaned against the glass beside me, his shoulder brushing mine. The air between us changed. It wasn’t heavy, just charged in a quiet way. He smelled faintly of cedar and something dark, expensive.
“You have that look,” he said after a moment.
“What look?”
“Like you’ve seen too much and don’t trust anyone.”
“Maybe I don’t.”
“I can’t blame you.”
“You shouldn’t,” I said. “Trusting the wrong person can ruin a life.”
He looked at me for a while, then said softly, “You sound like you’re speaking from experience.”
I didn’t answer. I turned back toward the city lights, letting silence fill the space instead.
After a long pause, he said, “My son seemed taken with you.”
“That’s unfortunate,” I said.
“Unfortunate?”
“I’m not interested.”
“Good,” he said, a small smile forming. “Neither am I.”
I glanced at him. “You don’t look convinced.”
He chuckled. “Maybe I’m not.”
The music swelled again. He stepped a little closer. “You don’t strike me as a stranger, Miss…?”
He left the question hanging, and I looked up at him, heart thudding too fast. “Maybe that’s because you’ve already met too many women like me.”
He shook his head slowly. “No. I’m sure I haven’t.”
- Writer
