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As the music swells around us, I catch sight of Dario across the dance floor. Our eyes lock, and in his gaze, I see a silent promise of aid. I draw strength from that look, knowing that even though I'm dancing with the devil, I'm not alone in this battle.
"Who knows," I say to Frank, forcing a smile as I meet his eyes once more, "maybe I'll surprise you."
"Surprises are what make life interesting, my dear," he replies, his grip on my waist tightening ever so slightly. "And I do so love a challenge."
"Then perhaps you've met your match," I retort, allowing myself a small smirk. "After all, I'm not one to be easily conquered."
"Ah, but where's the fun in an easy victory?" He spins me around, and for a moment, I lose myself in the dizzying whirl of movement.
"True," I concede as we come to a stop, my heart pounding in my chest. "But don't underestimate me, Frank. You might just find yourself outmatched."
"Is that a threat or a promise?" he asks, his eyes glinting with dangerous intrigue.
"Whichever you prefer," I reply coyly, while cursing him under my breath.
As I dance with Frank, I can't help but feel the danger in every step we take, every spin and dip. It's as if the gilded ballroom has transformed into a battlefield, and we're locked in a deadly waltz, our moves mirroring the struggle for power that's always simmering beneath the surface.
"Tell me, Jasmine," Frank murmurs against my ear, his breath hot on my skin, "what do you desire most in this world?" His hand reaches for the curve of my ass and he rests it on it, and I resist the urge to smack him.
Before I have a chance to respond, the room is suddenly plunged into darkness. The music comes to an abrupt halt, replaced by the cacophony of panicked voices and the clatter of chairs as guests scramble for answers.
My pulse races, adrenaline surging through my veins as my instincts kick into overdrive. This chaos, this confusion – it's the perfect cover to get away.
"Stay close," he growls, his grip on my arm almost painful as he pulls me towards him.
But his words are cold comfort. I need Dario – his strength, his unwavering determination to protect what he holds dear. When Dario held me close after saving me from the accident, his hands were warm, his touch gentle. Frank's is cold ... calculative.
In the midst of the darkness, my free hand instinctively reaches out, desperate to find something – anything – to anchor me in this sudden night.
My fingers brush against a warm, strong hand, and I know without a doubt that it's Dario. His touch sends a shiver down my spine, a mixture of relief and desire flooding through me.
"Jasmine," he whispers, his voice barely audible over the panicked murmurs of the crowd. "I've got you."
"Thank God," I breathe, my heart pounding in my chest as I cling to him. "We need to get out of here."
"Follow me," he says, his tone filled with urgency. I nod and in the darkness, place my foot in front of Frank's. He trips, and in the process releases his grip on me.
I lean into Dario, trusting him implicitly as we navigate through the chaos together. Unlike Frank's, his grip is firm but gentle, guiding me through the throngs of people who are still reeling from the abrupt blackout.
"Wait," I gasp, suddenly aware of the weight of Frank's watchful gaze. "What about Frank? He'll know we're together – he'll come after us."
"Let him try," Dario growls, his own anger rising to meet the challenge. "He won't lay a finger on you, Jasmine. I promise."
Chapter 8
Cloak and Dagger
Dario
When we step into the cool night air of the palazzo's gardens, I can finally breathe in relief. The chaos of the power cut at the masquerade, with Frank's receding screams for Jasmine when she fled with me, is now nothing more than a distant problem.
Jasmine's hand in mine feels like an anchor, pulling me out of the storm and into calmer waters.
The garden's darkness envelops us, shrouding us in secrecy. Shadows dance along the pathways, occasionally brightened by reflections of moonlight that peek through the ancient trees above us.
The scent of jasmine – the flower, not the woman – lingers in the air, mingling with the earthy aroma of damp soil and the sweet fragrance of tuberose plants.
Finding a bench next to a nearby tree, I make her sit down in the labyrinth and slowly takes off her high heels.
