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She’d seen elaborate, and this took the cake.
Kerrigan and Constantine accepted drinks. Many stopped to bow to Kerrigan, and she did nothing to change their minds. She didn’t think it smart to pretend to be a Doma, but she wasn’t going to correct anyone either.
The interior of the home was an enormous square garden with a pool at the center. Sheer white drapes hung from every opening, and people lounged on the benches. While half-naked gladiators stood at attention in every corner.
They’d just made it across the garden and into a ballroom, practically as long as the arena was wide, when a voice called behind them, “You made it!”
Kerrigan froze. “Oh,” she whispered.
So, that was the reason they’d been invited.
They turned as one to find Tarcus Valerii standing with his arms wide. He wore the white toga style with purple embroidery that revealed him as a senator. A dark-haired woman in her early twenties with a pinched expression on her face was at his side. She wore the same style dress as Kerrigan but with the matching purple thread that showed she must be a senator’s wife. The infamous wife he’d had to consult with.
“Tarcus,” Constantine said, somehow managing to mask the fury under the name.
“I wasn’t sure you’d get my invitation in time,” Tarcus said. His eyes swept to Kerrigan. “Or provide proper attire. But I was wrong, of course.” He took Kerrigan’s hand in his and kissed it. “You look lovely, my dear.”
She arched an eyebrow as disgust slithered down her spine. “I’m surprised to see you again so soon.”
“And whyever would you say that?”
“After suffering defeat, the losers usually slink back to their hidey-hole,” she said stiffly.
Tarcus’s cheeks flared crimson for a second before recovering. “Allow me to introduce you to my charming wife. Come here, Lavinia.”
Lavinia stepped forward with grace. She dipped her chin at Kerrigan. “Pleasure.”
“This is the pet I was talking about,” he said, reaching for Kerrigan’s chin and tilting her head at a particular angle. “You find her pleasing as well?”
Lavinia nodded. “As you say.”
Kerrigan jerked her head out of his grasp. “I am not here as a pet.”
Constantine cleared his throat. “I’ve made myself clear, Tarcus. You will not be part of her bidding.”
Tarcus waved it away as if he hadn’t heard. “There will be no bidding. I’ve already spoken to everyone who matters. They’ve agreed to let the matter be handled by me. And see, I am showing you exactly how generous I can be. All of this is part of my offer.” His teeth gleamed white in the candlelight as he swept his hand out. “So, don’t be hasty in your decision. Enjoy the evening. We can discuss terms before I leave.”
Tarcus grinned at them both and then took Lavinia in his arm and headed into the crowd.
Constantine had steam coming out of his ears. Tarcus had outmaneuvered him. He had the status to pull this off. They just had to figure out if it was true.
“Leave him,” she said. “We don’t know if he’s even telling the truth. He wants to goad you. Don’t let him.”
“Fine,” he growled, downing his drink. “Shall we dance?”
She took a sip of her own drink and then finished it. It was delicious. Fruity and flavorful. Tarcus might be trying to spoil the evening, but Kerrigan refused to let him.
“Yes. Let’s dance.”
They entered the ballroom halfway through a dance that she had never seen before. She picked up the steps easily. When it was their turn, Constantine pulled her onto the floor. Her steps were clumsy for the first pass, but soon, she had the hang of the unfamiliar steps and moved in time with him. At least for a minute, she could forget what lay behind her, what lay ahead of her, and the steep hill she had to climb to get there. She could just let the music take her away.
In fact, she was so immersed in the dance that she didn’t realize that so many had cleared out at her performance. The dance floor had become sparse as others watched a Doma perform their dance to perfect execution. It wasn’t until she stopped, sticky and breathing hard, that she saw they were utterly alone. She turned in a surprised circle as everyone applauded her performance.
But there was a single figure who stepped forward. His face was a mask of shock. Hard features like chiseled marble. Cheekbones that were cut from ice. Thundercloud eyes that looked right through her. And all-black attire that made her heart skip as the rest of the world crashed down around her.
She took one step toward him, all sense fleeing her mind.
“Fordham?”
16
The Fae
Her heart bottomed out in her feet, tears welled in her eyes, and she reached forward, as if she could draw him to her. It wasn’t possible. It couldn’t be.
