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It felt like with each step he took, the air moved with him. Each time he stepped, I moved back, until I was smack against the shoes, arms splayed behind me. I didn’t think I would ever get used to him. Each moment with Anteros was life or death. What was he going to do now? What horrors had he planned for me this time?
He had one hand behind his back and I swallowed. That couldn’t be good. What did he have behind there? What instrument of torture had he brought for me this time? My hands gripped the small shelf behind me as I waited for him to show me. Slowly he revealed his hand.
“You look like an angel.” His voice was hoarse. I blinked, trying to gain control of my faculties as he held out a small diamond necklace shaped like a rose. I gasped. I remembered that rose, remembered how he had torn it from my neck. It was the very same diamond rose necklace I’d worn a month ago, on my first night here. Gingerly, I reached out for it, but then he shook his head. He turned me around, hands moving my hair from my back to my shoulder with slow, gentle care. I shivered at the touch, goose bumps forming.
He clasped it.
I waited for him to come back around, but then he began to button the dress. His fingers slid under the fabric, uniting with my skin. My breath hitched, my diaphragm sucking in with each button. I bit my lip, focusing on steadying my breath. When he was finished, his flattened palm pressed against the buttons. From the base of my neck to the dip in my back, he ran his palm down, smoothing it slowly, carefully. Then his hands rested on my hips. I waited for him to grip me, to grab me, to demand of me.
“Are you ready?” he asked, his voice low.
I swallowed. “What?” I asked, but I wasn’t really sure what I said. My brain was playing catch-up. With a slight increase in pressure he spun me around so I could see into his eyes.
“To leave. It’s time to go.” I nodded. The corner of his mouth twitched and he let go of my hips. He held out his hand, palm first. My eyes flicked to it, then to his face, uncertain. He raised a brow and I clasped my hand in his, making sure to grab my purse, and together we walked out of my room. I took a glance back at the door, a door he’d knocked on. I shook my head, turning forward.
Probably a fluke.
A sleek black car was waiting for us at the curb but, as planned, Nikolai was not the driver. Distantly I wondered what excuse Nikolai had used to get out of it. Anteros stepped down and once again put his hand out for me. Warily, I took it.
Traffic was ridiculous. Anteros hadn’t told me where we were going—not that I expected him to. I had a little bit of an idea, though. The plan had accounted for a few scenarios. I stared out the window at the standstill traffic. Everyone but me probably wanted to be somewhere. This plan was going to change everything, and I wasn’t sure I wanted things to change.
I knew just thinking like that meant I needed to get the fuck out of Dodge, but the way he’d held me the previous night had my mind reeling.
I could feel his stare on me, like the sun at noon. I rubbed my neck, feeling sweaty. My mind flashed to his hands on my back, clasping my buttons.
“Where is Nikolai?” I asked, keeping my gaze on the growing crowd outside.
“He always gets one day off a year,” Anteros responded. “This year he requested today.” We came to a stop outside a nice-looking hotel. After the new driver opened the door for Anteros, I waited for the same. When my door finally opened, it wasn’t the driver. Anteros held his hand out for me. I swallowed, taking his hand, and feeling like the tightrope I was walking on was about to snap.
Hand in his, we walked inside, bypassed check-in, and went to the elevator. He scanned his key and we ascended. I examined the edges of his profile, the perfect arch of his nose, the cut of his jaw. He looked at me and I sucked in my breath. The weight of his stare bore into me, but then doors opened and I was saved by the distraction. I walked in first, needing air, hoping to escape into the furor of the party. It was…empty.
“Where’s the party?” I asked, spinning around.
“This is the party, Frankie,” he said, humor in his voice.
I spun around the empty hotel room. “Did the cool kids not call you back?”
Anteros lifted his eyebrow in a cool smirk at my quip. “I am the cool kid.” I rolled my eyes at that, looking around the suite. It was nice, but of course it was. That wasn’t surprising. Everything about it was weird, though. It was decidedly intimate. Rose petals were on the floor and bed, champagne was cooling on the table.
Weird wasn’t good. Intimate wasn’t good. Something was off, and when something was off, I generally paid the price.
He came up to me and caressed the side of my face. “I’d like to know what you’re thinking.” That you’ve been bodysnatched?
“No.” I pulled away slightly from his embrace. “You wouldn’t.” He frowned but didn’t press. With his free hand, he reached for mine.
“Come with me, Frankie.” I took his hand, feet crushing the black rose petals beneath my Manolo Blahniks as we went out to the patio. Outside there was more champagne, a spread of food like chocolate-covered cherries and strawberries, and some kind of hot beverage, but that wasn’t the amazing part.
“Wow.” The word left my lips on a gasp. We had a perfect view of Times Square. The Ball was right in front of us, and below us the street was so packed you couldn’t see anything save round heads and foam hats. Music was playing loudly, and there promised to be a live performance soon.
I gripped the balcony, leaning over the edge, trying to soak it all in.
“This is on your list, yes?” he asked.
I tore my gaze away from the revelry, looking at Anteros. “My list?”
“You have a bucket list of places and things to do. One of them is being in Times Square for New Year’s.” Anteros looked down at the people, shaking his head. “You don’t want to be down there. This is better.”
“How do you know about that?” I folded my arms, but not because of the snow starting to fall. An instant later I tore them to my sides, realizing how he could know that. “Did you see my bedroom?” I asked. I waited, gaze hot on Anteros, waiting for him to give me anything, tell me any of his true intentions—a tick, a shrug, something. He simply stared at me, steely bluegreen gaze hard as always.
