Chapter Ten — The Last Dance
442 Words
The gala was a mirror of the night we first met — chandeliers dripping crystal, champagne flowing like water, a hundred faces gleaming under the golden light.
But this time, I wasn’t the wide-eyed girl in a borrowed dress. I was walking in with Adrian Blackwell, my arm linked with his, my pulse pounding for reasons that had nothing to do with the music.
“Remember,” he murmured, his lips brushing the shell of my ear as we passed the doormen. “Three minutes after the lights go out, we move. Don’t let go of me.”
The warmth of his breath sent shivers down my spine. “And if I do?”
“You won’t,” he said simply, and I wasn’t sure if it was a promise or a command.
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We moved through the crowd like predators, dressed in silk and shadows. Adrian’s black suit was razor-sharp, the subtle bulge of a holstered weapon hidden beneath the jacket. My gown — midnight blue, slit to the thigh — had a tiny blade strapped to my leg, just where he’d placed it earlier with a look that was more intimate than any kiss.
At the far end of the ballroom, Vincent was laughing with a cluster of men in tuxedos. The same men from Adrian’s list. My fingers itched to reach for the blade.
Adrian caught my hand before I could. “Patience,” he whispered, his eyes locking on mine. “We’ll have them all.”
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The music shifted, and a string quartet began a slow, sinuous waltz. Adrian turned to me, his hand warm on my waist. “Dance with me,” he said.
I almost laughed. “Now?”
“Especially now.”
We moved into the dance floor, weaving between couples. Every step was controlled, deliberate — a dangerous waltz undercut with the knowledge that in minutes, the room would be chaos. His hand held mine tight, his body close, his scent surrounding me.
“This might be our last dance,” he murmured, his voice low enough that only I could hear.
“Then make it count,” I whispered back.
He did — pulling me close enough that our chests brushed, his lips ghosting over mine for a heartbeat before the lights suddenly went out.
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The ballroom erupted into gasps and shouts. Glass shattered. Somewhere, a gun went off.
Adrian’s mouth found my ear in the dark. “With me,” he said, and then we were moving — slipping through the confusion like shadows, heading straight for Vincent and the men who had ordered my father’s death.
TO BE CONTINUED
- Writer
