The Deception Dance (20 page)

Her arms fold around her body. “I don’t know what you’re
talking about.”

Unable to hide my animosity, I lean forward. “You
added
ingredients
to my shot, remember?”

She slumps down a little. “At the club?”

I nod, with a grimace.

She stands straighter, as if rallying herself, and holds up her hand.
“It wasn’t like that, I didn’t
add
anything.
I just had them make a strong shot for you, a couple different
alcohols; it was just supposed to taste gross. How was I to know you
were such a lightweight? It wasn’t a big deal.” Her head
swings back and forth with defiance.

I'm pretty sure a shot of alcohol isn't supposed to make you
hallucinate. ‘Liar’ is on my lips, as she continues.

“Whatever, I’m trying to help you here...”

“Don’t bother.” My tone is as frosty as an ice
storm, “the last time you ‘helped me,’ I almost
died.”

Her lower lip trembles.

I cast down my gaze.

Chauncey stands, statuesque, her arms wrapped around her chest. The
bandage covering her tattoo has peeled off at one corner. I stare at
her inner wrist. Forgetting my next biting comment, I stretch for her
bandage in alarm. “Chauncey, your tattoo.”

Chauncey claps a hand over her wrist, obscuring it from my view.

I step forward. “Chauncey, you need to go
to a hospital; your tattoo, it must be infected.”

Chauncey steps back, the crazed gleam surfacing again. She cradles
her wrist, as if I might attack. “You’re so lucky,
Raven!” She growls through her teeth, “I hate you!”
Spinning on her heel, Chauncey escapes, with a trail of green
chiffon, weaving like seaweed in her wake.

I run to the staircase, as Chauncey’s golden curls disappear
down and out of the foyer.

I grip the railing.

I don’t owe Chauncey anything. She’s been nothing but
nasty to me. If I turn around and forget about her, it’s what
she deserves. Cupping my hands around squeezed-shut eyes, I shake my
head.

Dropping my hands, I give one fleeting look over my shoulder, and
then I run after Chauncey.

She’s not in the courtyard, not out front
or in the gardens. The valets don’t speak English. I huff and
slam down one foot, earning a concerned look from the parking
attendants.

Giving a flat-handed wave, I turn back to the house; maybe she
doubled back. I walk, hands clutching my crystal-embroidered sides.
Catching my breath in this tight dress is difficult, to say the
least.

I weave through the courtyard, foyer, and party guests in the main
hall and finally find Nicholas and Stephen. The men stand on the edge
of the dance floor, laughing and drinking tumblers of an amber
liquid. Still breathing heavily, I stop beside them.

Nicholas wraps an arm around me in a gesture that seems automatic.

“We need to find Chauncey,” I say, “I think she
left.”

Stephen furrows his brow and peers around.
“Tobias left too, maybe Chauncey went with him.”

Nicholas shakes his head. “She’ll be fine. Now,
Stephen...”

“I think we should leave.”

Both the men turn to me, and then peer at each other. Nicholas cocks
his head, “You want to leave already?”

“I’m just worried.”

“Hey, Raven,” Stephen extracts a phone from his pants’
pocket, “How about this? I’ll call Tobias and see if
Chauncey’s with him. If she’s not, you can worry.”
He pats me on the arm, “Have fun, enjoy yourself.” Cell
phone in hand, he walks away.

I stand on my tiptoes to examine the crowd. I spot Linnie chatting
with Madeline, across the room, by a bar, laden with bottles of wine
and glasses.

Nicholas’s arm slips to my waist, “Do you want to dance?”

I shake my head, while I peer at the joyous faces. I don’t
recognize anyone.

Stephen walks up to us, “She’s with Tobias.” Phone
still to ear, he continues a conversation in Swedish, as he walks
away.

Nicholas pats my back. “Nothing to worry about; she’s
fine. Now, how about...”

Stephen rushes up and bends to Nicholas’s ear, whispering, “He
knows.”

Nicholas’s hand steers me toward the back of the main hall.
“You’re right, Raven, we should go.”

“Leave? But...” I stumble a few steps forward, “The
exit is...” I look over my shoulder.

Nicholas continues forward, as my heels root to the dance floor.

Andras strides toward us, in an opening, through the crowd: the
guests look as if they’re making way for him. He has that
triumphant smile on his face again and he’s aiming it at
Nicholas.

Nicholas walks around to my other side and grips my hand. His hold is
too tight and I start to shake him off, then stop, realizing the
message I’ll send to both of them.

Andras closes in, as Nicholas pleads, “Dance with me, please.”

“Hello, Nicholas,” Andras’s accent is thicker than
ever before and still hard to place. “I’m here to steal
your date.” To me, “Can I have this dance?” He
holds his arms out.

“No.” Nicholas’s hand tightens, making me wince.

“Hey!” A woman’s indignant voice squeaks from
behind us: “You’re stepping on my dress.”

“Oh, I’m sorry.” Nicholas’s grip around my
hand slackens and, in the same instant, Andras’s hands wrap
around my waist; he scoops me up and sets me on the dance floor.

He takes me in his arms and, before I can think, we’re
waltzing. Unlike Nicholas, Andras does not lead me with his hands, he
leads me with his hips. I’m quiet for a few seconds, while
Andras twirls me to the sound of the string quartet, playing
Metallica. Why didn’t I say anything during Andras’s and
Nicholas’s confrontation? I just stood there like a breathless
damsel.

Andras dips me and I lean back, stiffly. He pulls me up and leads me
backwards three paces with his nose, just brushing mine.

“Andras,” I say, as I spin away from him, “What was
that?”

He twirls me into his arms and whispers, “What was
what
?”

“With Nicholas...”

He scoffs, “Nothing. I showed Nicholas how pathetic an obstacle
he is.” Where
did
Andras learn English, the
Shakespearean School of Seduction and Vengeance?

My face is too close to Andras’s; I duck back an inch. “I
know I’ve been giving you mixed messages, but whatever’s
going on is between you and Nicholas. I don’t want to get in
the middle of your fight or feud or rivalry or
whatever
with
him.”

He tightens the hand around my waist, regaining
the inch. “What is going on has nothing to do with Nicholas. He
and his brothers have proved themselves ineffectual and unimpressive.
They made a feeble effort at going against me and they are out of
their depth. Those brothers mean nothing to me; it’s you Raven,
only you, that I care about.”

I shouldn’t be relieved or pleased by this, but I can’t
help myself. I stare into his amused eyes, glittering in the
chandelier light, as he leads me into the middle of the turning,
dancing crowd.

“Monday at noon,” Andras whispers into my ear, “I
will wait for you outside their gate.”

“I won’t be there, Andras, I’m leaving.” I
don’t know why, but saying this gives me a physical ache in my
chest.

Surprisingly, he grins. His cheek brushes mine,
as he again bends to my ear. “I doubt you will.”

I stop dancing and arch back to stare. “What does
that
mean?”

He inclines his head and I follow his gesture to Nicholas and
Stephen, who both unabashedly glare our way. I snap my gaze back to
Andras’s half-grinning expression.

“They...” He gestures again, “…will do
everything in their power to make sure you stay.”

I scrape my teeth on my lip, over and over again. We stand in the
middle of the floor, as couples rotate around us.

Two of his fingers raise my chin, while his thumb protects my lower
lip from my teeth. “Raven, you are so full of worries. You
deserve a few minutes to forget about your guilt and doubts. Nothing
exists; there is only you and me, here, now.” His hand drops
from my face to caress down my shoulder. He leans in. “For just
this song, forget about everyone else, do what
you
want to
do.”

His hand travels from my shoulder, down my back and stops around my
waist. He dips me low again and I let my head fall back.

His splayed fingers run slowly from my chest to my neck and with his
caress, the tension that had been restricting my breathing, loosens.
I stretch my neck back, as his hand retraces its path. Right before
his fingers touch the line of my dress, he snaps me up. The glares
that were shooting icicles into my skin melt off. The dancers around
us blur into swirling tornados of color, inconsequential, because
nothing, no one else, matters. He’s spins, twirls, lifts and
holds me tight. My breath comes faster, not from tension or conflict,
but from exhilaration.

We waltz faster and faster. In his arms, the excess of material
around me poses no obstacle; he leads me as if I am an extension of
himself.

I can’t yank my attention from his face. In his eyes is the
flame that threatens to consume the world. And why not be devoured by
fire? This night is perfect for igniting. I want to be engulfed and
dance in a blazing light.

As the violin bows her last three notes, Andras lifts me off the
ground. My lips want to connect with his so badly, they tingle...

Nicholas’s blue eyes find me, over Andras’s shoulder, his
wounded expression drenching me, like a bucket of frigid water.

I slump in Andras’s grasp and give and infinitesimal shake of
my head.

Without a kiss, Andras sets me on the floor. His expression does not
look annoyed or hurt by my rejection; his gaze flicking in Nicholas’s
direction, a grin spreads across Andras’s face.

A queasy sensation writhes in me.

“Monday at noon,” Andras says, as he offers me his arm.

I somehow have lost my will or need to correct him. Taking his arm, I
let him lead me across the floor, directly to Nicholas. Nicholas does
not meet my gaze; he offers his arm when Andras stops.

There is no flicker or flame left. All I feel is shameful,
embarrassed, wrong... as if I got caught cheating, though that’s
ridiculous. I don’t want to watch and can’t look away
from Andras’s ever-growing grin. I switch to Nicholas’s
arm, touching him as little as possible.

Andras caresses my cheek with the tips of his fingers.

Body, please, just cringe away from his touch. My body doesn’t
obey; my traitorous cheek leans toward his hand.

“I appreciate,” Andras says to Nicholas, “You
keeping this beautiful woman so safe … ”

Nicholas’s whole face flinches.

“…and protected, for me.” He taps my chin.

Nicholas’s arm tightens around mine. He straightens his posture
and says to Andras, “Not for you,
from
you. And don’t
thank me, Andras; your appreciation is worth less than nothing. If
you’ll excuse me and
my
date…” He turns to
the door. “It’s too crowded in here.”

I watch Nicholas from the corner of my eye, as we walk out. In the
courtyard, his arm falls away. I have to quicken my steps to keep up
with him. When we are outside of the complex, he gives a ticket to
the valet and we stand alone and silent, waiting for our car.

“I’m sorry.” I force myself to look at him. “I’m
sorry, Nicholas.”

With no hint of anger in the set of his face, the way he squeezes his
eyelids shut makes him look miserable, which makes everything so much
worse.

“I don’t deserve your caring for me, Nicholas. Your
family’s right, I’m not good enough for you, it’s
good you see that now.”

His eyes snap open as he steps toward me. “What do you mean?”
Indents pucker above each of his sandy blond eyebrows.

I shake my head. “I don’t deserve...”

He holds a hand up, “No, about my family?”

“Your grandfather and Albert are right; you should choose
someone better, someone sophisticated and elegant, and...”

“You think my family doesn’t
approve
of you?”
His brow furrows into deeper lines. “That’s why you
danced with...”

We both turn, as Linnie and Stephen’s singing echoes through
the archway. The Rolls Royce drives up the driveway and stops.

The tension around Nicholas’s eyes eases. “I hope you
don’t mind, I traded cars with Tobias.”

I nod, trying to suppress a sigh of relief. Thank the Heavens. No
hour-long ride with only Nicholas and the pain I give him.

Andras
is wrong; nothing and nobody can stop me from leaving tomorrow.

Day Twenty-One,
Twenty-Two and Twenty-Three

Linnie peers over the passenger seat as Stephen’s door closes.
“When we get inside, you will tell me what that dance was about
and who that man was.” We linger in the Rolls Royce as Nicholas
and Stephen walk toward the main house.

Nicholas sat sullenly most of the drive, but near the end he laughed
at a joke Stephen told. He also gave me a kiss on the cheek before he
exited the car.

The chauffeur opens Linnie’s door. I don’t wait for him
to come around; instead I climb out and close my door.

As we walk to the guest house I pinch my lips together. Where should
I start my explanation of Andras? How can I describe him without
first revealing that I lied to her and second make him sound, I don't
know… normal? Before Linnie went to college I never kept any
secrets from her. But now - well, it's just not the same as…

My ballet flats make a crunch, crunch, crunch sound on the ground.
Linnie's hand grasps my shoulder stopping me. I look down, littered
everywhere are tiny reflective shards of glass. Linnie points to a
large gilded frame with only a tiny jagged piece of mirror remaining.
I peer around, there's another smashed mirror down the hall.

We stare at each other, both of us giving our ‘what the heck?’
brow furrows.