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“Yes, the man was sixteen feet tall, and the woman was wearing ostrich feathers in her hair.”
I can almost feel the anger rolling off of him, and yet I can’t help it. What kind of idiot asks a blind person to describe someone? “She sounded European, and he sounded bored.”
“How many of these have you had?” he asks, roughly taking the glass from my hand.
“I would have had two if you hadn’t made me spill half the last one,” I say, beginning to feel irritated by this whole charade.
“We’re going home.” He sounds like all the other assholes in here, except with an English accent. His worlds are commanding and stiff and leave no room to be ignored. He pulls me by the arm to another part of the room. Somewhere where the music doesn’t reach quite as well.
“No.” I don’t know what makes me say it. This whole party is like an alien world full of obstacles, and yet I was beginning to enjoy myself. I’m not ready to go back to the apartment where I’m not allowed to touch anything or do anything. Even as I say the word, I feel the air between us thicken.
“No?” he says darkly. He’s so close to me I can feel his breath on my cheek. I smell the hint of a cigar on him, though I don’t think he’s been smoking, just standing near to someone that has. It reminds me of Josh and in than instant I remember that this is only an interlude in the prison that is my life. They’ve still not told me how they plan on getting the money from my father. I have only a few days left until they realize I’ve tricked them, and then what? They’ll give me back to my father anyway and I’ll go back to my prison.
“Let me remind you, Lucinda, that you are here because I’ve let you be here. I could have left you at home.”
“It’s not my home,” I say to him. I don’t have a home. I’ve never had a home, I’ve had the house I’ve grown up in, but that could never be called a home. “And don’t pretend you brought me here as a favor to me. You brought me here because you needed a date for this miserable function and that’s all. You did this for yourself. You are a sad pathetic money grabbing asshole, who bullies women for their own gain, and I really fucking hate you.”
My cheek stings as a sharp slap rattles my brain.
Dacre has finally done what he’s been threatening to do since the first moment we met. He’s shown me his true colors, and they are all black.
27
DACRE
So the timid Lucinda has finally found her voice and at such an inconvenient time. I don’t need her deciding to grow a backbone right in the middle of my party. She glares at me with such ferocity that even the dark glasses can’t hide her anger. For a second I wonder if Nix hasn’t been wrong this whole time, and she’s not blind at all. Maybe everything about her is a lie. There’s certainly enough about her that doesn’t add up. And now is not the time to be trying to figure her out. I just want her to sit quietly while I make my ideas known to Letterman. I’m already riled up by the fact that every single person I’ve spoken to so far has mentioned my father to me, like I’m not capable of doing anything without him. The asshole doesn’t even know I’m here, but he’s sure to find out with all the malicious gossip. Even Lucinda has heard them talking about me behind my back. They are like a den of fucking vipers in formal wear. Lucinda looks like the only normal person here, which is laughable. She’s the richest of all of them. If any of these gutter snipes knew who she was, they’d be tripping over themselves to talk to her. Then she could spend the evening listening to them blather on about her fucking father.
“I want to go and listen to the music.”
I stare at her. Has she not been listening to a word I said? “We are going home.”
“Fine. Let’s go home and you can speak to Reginald another time... if you get the chance.”
It irks me that she’s using his first name as though she knows him. Anger courses through my veins as I realize that she’s got me and she knows it. Reginald Letterman is the reason I came here tonight. He’s the head of the company and if I want to make any kind of impression and get out from under my father’s shadow, this is the only chance I’ll get. It’s well known that he isn’t seen much at the company anymore.
“Fine,” I concede. “But no more alcohol.”
“I’m not making any promises.” She licks her lips and offers the ghost of a smile that has my cock throbbing and my blood on fire at the sheer gall of her.
Fuck her! I take her hand and pretend that venom isn’t running riot through my veins as I guide her across the dance floor. If the people here are vipers, Lucinda is a fucking cobra.
“Alexander, Kiranna. I wondered where you two had gotten to.” I grip Lucinda’s hand tightly, urging her to keep her mouth shut as Letterman approaches. His ruddy cheeks have reddened in the hour or so since I left him, and he reeks of brandy. It’s clear he’s been enjoying the bar. Some kind of sauce is spilled on his tie.
“I was hoping to talk to you, sir. Is now a good time?”
He tears his eyes away from Lucinda and looks at me as though he’s only just realized I’m here, despite calling my name out less than a minute ago.
“Didn’t I tell you that tonight is all about fun? I wonder, would you mind if I took Kiranna here for a spin around the dance floor?”
Lucinda’s hand grips mine back, squeezing it deliberately. I don’t want to give up my chance to speak with Letterman no matter how drunk he is, but it’s clear I’m not going to be able to talk to him about anything until he gets what he wants. He’s not known for backing down. The old fucker always gets his own way.
“I’m sure Kiranna would be delighted, Mr. Letterman, sir,” I say between gritted teeth. “Then after, perhaps we can talk business?”
Lucinda lets out a small yelp as I push her toward Letterman. He gives me a wink that turns my stomach as he puts his meaty hands round her waist. “I think we can manage, eh?”
I turn and stride to the edge of the dance floor with a sickening feeling in the pit of my stomach. Having Lucinda dance with Letterman solves all my problems as long as she keeps her trap shut, but the lascivious look in his eye as he took her in his arms has left a feeling of distaste in my mouth. I grab a whisky from the bar, my first drink of the night, and drag it back quickly, letting the warmth drown the bitterness.
“You know, in our youth, women used to be envious of me dancing with Reginald.”
