I nod but his smile fades at whatever he sees on my face. He turnsto face me fully. “What’s wrong?”
“He’s here,” I mouth tipping my head as discreetly as possible in Oz’s direction.
“Who’s here?” His eyes move in that direction and his expression hardens. “Fuck.” He mutters and gets to his feet. I turn to look for Oz and gasp. He’s ten feet away from our table.
I move to stand but Kwame puts a firm hand on my shoulder. “No, Sin. Wait.”
“Why, what’s going on?”
He bends so we’re eye level. “Trust me.” His smile rings false but before I can say anything, he straightens and moves to stand in front of me just as Oz reaches our table.
Kwame’s body blocks my view as he and The Wizard start speaking in hushed tones. I can’t hear a word over the din of the party.
My mind is reeling. I thought I’d be observing Ozwald from afar.
It never occurred to me that I’d have the chance to talk to him face to face.
I wait for Kwame to turn around and introduce me. When he doesn’t, I get to my feet and step around so I’m beside him.
They stop speaking and in unison turn their heads to look at me.
I focus on Kwame, not hiding my bafflement. “Aren’t you going to introduce me?”
His back goes rigid and his hands curl into fists briefly at his side. “I told you to wait.”
Shocked at his tone, I take a step back.
“We’ve already met, haven’t we?” Oz says his icy gaze on me. “Why are you here?”
Goosebumps run up my arms, and I wish I’d kept my ass in my seat.
“She’s my guest,” Kwame answers for me and steps between us again.
“Your father wants to see you. Now,” Ozwald says and the hairs on the back of my neck stand up. Why is he running errands for Mr. Palmer? What the hell is going on?
Kwame turns to face me. He cups my shoulders and looks me in the eye. His expression is impossible to read. “I’ll be right back.”
“How do you know him?” I mouth my eyes gesturing to the man behind him.
He looks down at me, his eyes sad and my blood runs cold. “I’ll be right back and I’ll explain.”
His voice was low and grave in my ear and his eyes are pleading. But for what?
I’m keenly aware that we have an audience, so I repress the urge to demand he explain what the hell is happening.
I smile, grab his hand and gave it a quick squeeze. “I'll be here when you get back.”
He turns to walk away but Oz lingers a moment. His eyes sweep over me and linger on my face longer than is comfortable before he turns to walk with Kwame.
Menacing, ice cold, ruthless, and dangerous.
That’s all I see when I look at him.
Should Kwame be going off with him alone?
I’m half out of my seat when my path is blocked. This time by a lithe body clad in white silk.
Paloma Persaud. She flashes a million-watt smile. “Finally, we meet.”
