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Heat like a branding iron has me flattening my hand over my stomach.
The couple beside us leaves after the next game, and Connor slides in to take their place.
Roman shifts a half-step to the side to block me from Connor, as if staking his claim.
A new dealer arrives to relieve the current one on duty and there are a few moments of respite, enough time for Connor to introduce himself to Roman.
Roman is only half-interested. “Oh, hey, yeah. Nice to meet you.”
“Are you a friend of Natalie’s?” Connor asks, his attention on me.
“Ignore him,” I say urgently, narrowing my eyes at Connor in warning.
Roman looks between us. “Do you two know each other?”
“Roommates, I guess.” Connor looks as pleased as Punch. “Isn’t that right?”
“Yes. Connor here is an unwelcome house guest I’ve been forced to endure. Remind me, how long before I can evict you?”
Connor laughs at that. Roman does not. He steps away from me, suddenly feeling very awkward, no doubt.
“Good. That’s better,” Connor says of Roman’s retreat. “Would you mind giving Natalie and me a moment of privacy?”
Roman opens his mouth, flabbergasted by Connor’s request. “Uh…I mean, she and I were kind of hitting it off.”
“No. You weren’t. The entire time you were over here concentrating on your game, she was concentrating on me.”
I move then, trying to brush past Connor in an attempt to save myself from the embarrassment of lashing out. Connor’s hand catches my wrist and he stops me, leaning down to whisper against my cheek.
“Tonight.”
One whispered word that carries a thousand possibilities.
I’m prepared to dump my drink right over his head, but he’s already releasing my wrist and walking away, not waiting for a response. I try to convince myself it’s because he knows he wouldn’t like it. After all, I told him the agreement is off. Whatever game we were playing ended the night he rejected me in the bathroom.
Of course, in reality, Connor is walking away because he knows I’ll do exactly as he wants. He knows—without even having to look back and confirm—he has the upper hand.An hour later, I’m up on the second-floor balcony that overlooks the hall, looking down and watching the activities from a safe distance. When I first arrived a few minutes ago, there was a couple up here with me, but they disappeared and now I sip my drink alone, scanning the crowd. I spot Lindsey and Logan at the bar together and wonder what she thinks of him. Earlier, after Roman and I parted ways, Logan stayed by Lindsey’s side while we perused the silent auction items. They chatted and laughed, and there seemed to be some chemistry there. I wonder if they’ll leave together tonight.
My gaze roves over the crowd as I hear dress shoes clap against the marble floor behind me. Someone walks up to the threshold between the balcony and the hallway and then stops. The hairs on the back of my neck stand on end, but I don’t turn around.
“Which door did you choose earlier?”
Connor’s voice is a match strike in the pit of my stomach.
“Truth.”
He chuckles low and smooth. “So did I.”
He walks over to join me at the balcony. He doesn’t put nearly enough distance between us for my liking, though still, if someone from the fundraiser were to look up and see us, they wouldn’t assume a thing. We’re doing nothing more than talking. It’s not forbidden to carry on a conversation.
I steal a glance at him out of the corner of my eye and find him surveying the room below us, unsmiling.
“So should we play then? Truth?” he asks, his voice carrying a dangerous tone.
“How?” I tighten my grip on my glass.
“I’ll ask you a question and you can’t lie.”
Sounds easy enough.
I swallow before I reply. “All right.”
He pushes off the banister and turns toward me, resting his hip where his elbows just were. “Were you hoping I would come up and find you here all alone?”
I let silence fill the empty space between us, unable to look at him, knowing he’ll have his answer as soon as our eyes meet.
After a few seconds, he clears his throat. “Right. Since it’s obvious you’re not comfortable playing the way I’ve suggested, why don’t we make it a little easier? Instead of having to reply, take a sip every time the answer is yes. How about that?”
Toying with him, I arch a brow and bring my drink up to my mouth, taking a sip.
His mouth unfurls into a cunning grin.
“Now I’ll repeat my first question. Did you want me to come find you?”
His eyes drag down my dress and I take a quick, shallow sip. There. Truth.
He nods with a proud gleam in his eyes once he has his answer.
“Your turn.”
Of course. We’re supposed to trade off during this interrogation, but what question could I possibly ask that I don’t, deep down, already know the answer to? What question could ease the fire we’ve been stoking for the last few weeks? I should beg off and rejoin the party, but I don’t want to.
