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Something in Deacon’s voice told me all or part of what he said was a lie, but I had no choice. I couldn’t sit on the fucking floor all night. I took his arm and let him lead me to the elevators and then the deck. I had a vague idea of the layout from a visit a few years ago. A jazzy-sounding band was playing in the gallery, but Deacon took me outside to the deck itself. I could feel the cool wind against my alcohol-heated skin.
I felt my chest tighten to think of Charlotte up here, alone, against the sparkling backdrop of the city, and the music playing…
I’m so sorry, baby. I want that dance with you, I do…
“Do you see her?”
No answer.
“Deacon?” And suddenly I knew he was gone.
What the hell?
I heard the clack of high heels move close and then stop. A woman.
“Charlotte…?”
The scent of Chanel No. 5 filled my nose. Many women wore that perfume, but I recognized it on Valentina at once, and a slideshow of its own began in my mind; of her and me in various hotel rooms, in various positions, with various cityscapes outside the bedroom windows.
“Hello, Noah,” she said, her French accent thick and rich, just as I remembered. “I’ve missed you.”
chapter thirty
Deacon led Noah out of the bathroom and back into the ballroom, and I stared, rooted to the floor, not knowing what to do. I sank down and sat for a good ten minutes on that stupid bench outside the men’s room, feeling lost.
When I finally went back to the table, Noah wasn’t there. Neither was Deacon. The others glanced at me with mixtures of pity and embarrassment as they watched the slideshow at the front of the ballroom.
I stood before them, arms crossed. “Where is Noah?”
Logan pointed one finger to the ceiling. “I saw Deacon take him up to the Observation Deck.”
I returned to my seat to grab my wrap, and Yuri Koslov beckoned me to Noah’s empty chair beside him. I scooted over and the big man leaned close, bestowing upon me a gust of vodka-drenched breath.
“Have you read your Shakespeare,devochka?” Yuri asked, his accent thick and made thicker with drink. “Othello?”
“It’s been a while, but yes.”
“Iago, he pretends to be Othello’s friend. But he is a green-eyed monster. He fills Othello’s head with jealousy so that Iago might watch the mighty king fall. And how does it end?”
“Not good,” I muttered. My stomach tingled and a sour taste rose in my mouth. “Not good at all.”
“If I were you,” Yuri said so that the others wouldn’t hear, “I take Noah away from Deacon McCormick andPlanet X, and do not look back.”
“Yes,” I said. “That sounds exactly right.”
I gave him a peck on one ruddy cheek and made my way back out to the elevators, to the 86thfloor.
As soon as the doors opened, I heard the music; the live band was here, playing jazzy little numbers as the entire city lay spread out below like an ocean of lights.
I wandered through the gallery, the closed-in room with tall windows in the center of the deck. A small trio: clarinet, drum, saxophone played while half a dozen couples slow-danced before them. My eyes stung and the lights became blurry puddles of white and gold. I went outside and let the wind—bracing at this height—dry my tears.
I wandered the perimeter in search of Noah and saw a swath of periwinkle blue dress against the dark of a tuxedo. Noah stood against a cement rib, Valentina Paquette pressed against him. He held her by the wrists, and I thought for a moment he was pushing her away. But my heart cracked as she rested her hands on his chest without protest from him, speaking words I couldn’t hear for the music. There was a familiarity between them, between their bodies, as if they were used to touching each other.
I turned and went down the way I’d come, feeling weak and shaky, as if I were going to shatter into tiny pieces. In the hallway that led to the ballroom, Deacon was there, looking as if he’d been waiting for me. He pushed off the wall and strode over, blocking my way.
“I need to talk to you,” he said, taking my arm.
I wrenched out of his grip. “Don’t touch me!”
