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We’re swaying slowly now in time to the music. I’m having trouble fighting the basic rush of desire. There are some instincts that just can’t be helped.
“What are you thinking about, Haven?” His eyes sweep my face, then stray lower.
“Nothing as obscene as what you’re thinking about.” What a lie.
He blinks. “No idea what you mean. I’m a complete gentleman.”
“If you were really a gentleman you’d quit peering down my dress so freely.”
“I’m just checking out your ink. Got any more?”
“No.” My teeth grit at the mention of my hated tattoo. “It’s not an artistic statement. It’s a family brand.”
“Interesting. I’d like to take a closer look.”
“Can you quit being a clown for two minutes?”
“No.”
“No?”
He bends to whisper in my ear. “No. I think you’re enjoying yourself.”
I can’t argue. For a few seconds I stop breathing. I feel like I’m sixteen again, finally being acknowledged by the boy I’ve always been crazy about.
The song ends. Another one begins.
He frowns when I pull away. “Don’t leave.”
“Bathroom break. You’re not invited.”
“All right.” He kisses my knuckles. “Don’t stay away too long, beautiful.”
A silly line. I’m silently annoyed at the fizz of giddy bubbles in my chest as I walk away.
In the bathroom, Matilda is there fixing her face in the mirror. Her initial phony smile fades when she sees it’s just me. I don’t bother to say hello. She leaves while I’m still locked in a stall while cursing myself for swooning over Conner Wiseman.
After all this time, why does he still get to me?
And why am I hiding out in a gilded hotel bathroom, breathless and flushed, after only a few minutes in his arms?
I know why.
I’m aware that he doesn’t.
On the way out of the ladies’ room, I check my phone because I haven’t looked at it in a while. Twenty minutes ago Sophie sent a text.
Hi! Are you having fun? Guess what? Talon is here.
Not good. My asshat of a cousin pops his head into the club now and then, always pushing the limit and requiring a reminder that the whole east side doesn’t belong to him. He needs to back the fuck off and stick to his own three block radius that’s filled with smoke shops, pay-by-the-hour motels and grimy bars that serve as a front for a vast illegal gambling operation.
It’s possible that Talon caught wind of the news that I’m out of the office tonight and smells a chance to throw his weight around. Next week my father reports downstate to spend six months in prison. On paper the sentence is for tax fraud but it was really an orchestrated deal in order to keep the heat off the rest of the family’s activities. The authorities will get to appear competent enough to keep their jobs and their government funding. And they will turn a blind eye to everything else we do.
If Talon is getting big ideas about expanding his influence while my father is in lockup then it’s best to smack him down now. Fiona would insist that she can handle him with no problem but if she stands in his way he’s capable of retaliating. When I’m around, he doesn’t dare. My father’s family code of honor, flimsy and frayed though it may be, wouldn’t allow it.
In reality, I know I’m making excuses, searching for a reason to leave so that I don’t end up back there on the dance floor, salivating over Conner and ready to do something foolish.
While these thoughts rage through my mind, I’m not paying attention to where I’m going and nearly run over Tess and baby Dash.
