AllFreeNovel
Share Us
She swallowed hard, choosing her words. “It must be mutual, I mean, there must be understanding, full acknowledgment and the ability to make that decision to love an Iridescent without being coerced.”
“Are you tryin’ to tell me something?”
“I don’t know…maybe.”
“Then it’s time for you to learn about me and make your own decisions, but don’t forget,” he said, “that I am who I am, and nothing can change that. Do you understand?”
“Yes.”
Privé
Speeding down Huron Street, Torin took a sharp left, the Ferrari humming like a well-oiled machine. He parked and got out, opening her door before she could get her seatbelt off. He took her hand, assisting her from the car and she realized they were outside of Observers. He slid a hand to the small of her back, escorting her down the sidewalk. She glanced at his face, which revealed a prideful awareness she had not noticed before. At the door, there was a line, but Donja noticed that one of the bouncers raised his chin as if sniffing the air. He locked eyes on Torin as they approached, then stepped forward, giant that he was and moved the crowd aside. Torin met his gaze as he ushered Donja inside, bypassing the doorman who nodded his approval.
Carte blanche, she thought.
The music hit her, the bass vibrating in her chest, strobe lights flashing. The club was busy, though nowhere as busy as the last time. Torin steered her with his hand as if they were dancing and she noticed every man who saw him, acknowledge his presence. Traversing the crowd beyond the bar, which surprised her for she thought he would take her to the VIP section, he guided her to a wall of mirrors where two burly bouncers stood guard. Seeing them approach, one of the bouncers lowered his hand to the glass wall, and as if by magic, the mirror slid away and Torin ushered her forward.
Wow! A secret club?
When Donja stepped through the looking glass, the first thing she noticed was that the deafening sound of the electronic lyrics immediately ceased. Then she heard the soft romantic lull of music. She tilted her head, listening, but it was utterly foreign, and she wondered if it was opera. The room, which was half the size of the disco, was dimly lit by elegant wrought iron sconces equidistantly adorning mirrored walls. Tables were arranged in a half-moon pattern and dressed in shimmering satin. She noticed a bar, upholstered in leather, then shifted her gaze to a dimly lit dance floor where six, perhaps seven couples were lost in romantic embrace.
Feeling Torin’s hand in the small of her back, she took a few steps but just short of the dance floor, stopped, pivoted on tiptoes and looked up into his eyes. “What is this place?”
“It’s called Privé,” he said, “which in French means private. It’s exclusively for Iridescents who want their consorts protected from wandering eyes.”
“No observers.”
“Exactly.”
“But I’m not your consort.”
He ignored her, ushering her directly to a table. He took her clutch and laid it down, then led her to the dance floor, where he pulled her into his arms so tightly that she could not breathe. He danced slow and steady, so at ease with himself. She slid her arms round his neck, her chin tilted.
His lips found her ear. “I love this piece, it’s Roberto by Maximo Spodek,” he mused, his breath warm on her skin. “It’s one of my favorites.” He gently caressed her back, nestling his nose into her hair, “can’t you just see the ocean, the moon, ahhh…it’s all so enchanting.”
He held her tight and all she could see was him. She felt herself melting and with every breath the warmth between them intensified. She followed his lead and with the contagious music finding her soul, she closed her eyes, adrift in his arms. When the music stopped he slowly released her and his face, soft in the dim lights, was so damn handsome that she shivered. He led her to the table just as the music started again. He paused with closed eyes as if savoring the sound. “Champagne, he smiled, “another great piece,” he said lovingly. “Isn’t it beautiful?” he mused, “almost as beautiful as you.” He pulled out her chair, ornate and finely crafted in antique gold with a padded velvet seat.
So, this is the real you?
Donja watched him as he took his seat, his smoldering eyes locked upon her and as the music swelled, she found herself adrift and he was right—it was truly magical.
From nowhere a male waiter appeared in a dark suit. “We’ll have the usual,” Torin said without looking at him.
Donja felt an avalanche of emotions and for no reason whatsoever, Kevin flashed in her mind. Her jaw hardened. She cast a look across the table, past the enchanting flicker of the candelabra to Torin’s face.
“Our usual?” she questioned and in that moment, it occurred to her that he was just like Kevin, a lying cheating scoundrel.
He just stared as if she hadn’t spoken a word.
She bit at her lip.
He must have a mistress or even worse, a consort…wait, he did mention a wife. How could I have forgotten?
He exhaled, “you are so incredible.”
“You didn’t answer me,” she whispered fighting to control her voice. “What does our usual mean?”
He just stared with the flame from the candelabra reflected in his eyes.
