Chapter 38
Daisy
"See, this is the woman I proposed to all those months ago," Max called to me as I descended the stairs Saturday night. I forced a tight smile and flipped my hair behind my shoulder. He held his arm out once I reached the floor. "Ready?"
"Yes, dear." I looped my arm through his and together we got into the back of his car and he told the driver where to take us. Max pushed the button to roll up the screen between the driver and us, and then turned to me, placing his hand on my thigh, exposed by the high slit in my dress.
"Seriously, you're gorgeous, Daisy. Green is your color." He ran his hand up, and I forced myself not to shove him away. I'd been on my best behavior this week. I'd laughed at all his jokes, remained by his side at business dinners, and gave him chaste kisses whenever he leaned in. Thankfully, he was still trying to redeem himself from his attack earlier, so he didn't push for intimacy past that.
There was no faking passion, and there'd never been passion with anyone but Gatsby.
We arrived at the party and had to wait in the long line of cars. The moment the car door opened, I pushed Max's hand away and took the hand of whoever was helping me out. I thanked them and paused, staring up at the large mansion. It was lit up like I'd never seen it before. Music blared from it, and a hundred people were outside, dancing and drinking. I could only imagine the inside.
"They said these parties were crazy," Max muttered. "Come on, darling." He looped his arm through mine again and we went up the stairs and into the party. The moment we entered through the doors, an explosion of fantastical hit me all at once. This wasn't the house I'd been in before. This was... astounding.
A female DJ was playing music on a stage, surrounded by male and female dancers dressed in red and black on individual stands. Large red curtains draped the walls and tall windows, with matching balloons and confetti seemed to rain down in a slow, constant stream. Amongst the confetti rain, aerialists fell from the ceiling in long silks, twisting and spinning above us all.
"Where's your friend?" Max asked beside me.
"Who?" I asked, distracted by the spectacularism happening in front of me. A man on stilts passed by, juggling red and black balls.
"Gatsby," Max scolded and dragged me further into the room. We passed by someone carrying a tray of drinks. He took two flutes and gave one to me. We toasted, and he smiled. "Well, until we see him, why not have a little fun?" He drank the champagne like a shot of vodka, and rushed me to do the same. He then took our glasses and urged me onto the dance floor.
We danced to the contemporary music with the other partygoers. Max took every drink that came near him, and the sweat on his brow soon became less from the dancing and more from the alcohol.
"Do you want to take a break?" I offered after a light stumble caused him to bump into someone. Max's face was flustered, and before he could speak, he was interrupted.
"What perfect timing. I was just coming to ask for a dance."
The voice from behind me caused me to spin fast and light up with glee.
"Well, hello there." Max pushed me out of the way to shake Gatsby's hand. "I was hoping to see you tonight."
"You were?" Gatsby, ever the perfect, charming gentleman, didn't acknowledge the awkwardness of Max being my fiancé. He smiled and nodded as Max spoke.
"I was. See, I and my colleagues wanted to talk investments."
"I see. Well, how about we sit down and discuss after I steal your stunning dance partner for a bit? Once we get back you can talk my ear off, hm?"
Max, with dollar signs in his eyes and nothing more, nodded eagerly. "Yes, by all means. I think I see some of my college buddies now. We'll be over in that booth, away from everyone." Max pointed to a dark corner and pulled me in for a kiss, but I turned my head.
"You're a bit sweaty," I said as an excuse.
He laughed and wiped his moist brow.
"Fair, enjoy my lady for a few minutes."
A slow song began to play, and Gatsby took me in his arms, pulling me to him. As if Max hadn't been here at all, Gatsby spun me around the dance floor like it was just him and I.
"You're dazzling in that dress. I spotted you the moment you walked through the doors." Gatsby smiled. I looked him up and down and smiled back when I reached his eyes again.
"You look pretty dapper yourself, Mr. Gatsby." He was in an expensive, fitted suit and he'd brushed his hair back. He looked every bit the billionaire gentleman he was emulating.
"Did you legally change your name?" I asked suddenly, curious. He tilted his head and pursed his lips.
"I did. Although, I did keep my first name. Middle and last are different now."
"So you are..."
"Emile Jay Gatsby. And you?—"
"No one calls me that anymore," I interrupted him. He nodded, and the conversation dropped. "Well, you were always Daisy to me."
The first song ended, and as I tried to pull from him, he squeezed my hand and brought me back to him.
"Nuh-uh," he teased as we continued dancing. He bent to whisper in my ear. "He was a fool to let you go so easily. I'm not as foolish." My heart went crazy and despite the heat from the crowded dance floor, a delicious shiver of excitement ran down my spine. We danced for another song, and then he paused.
"Would you like to see the party from the floor above?" He pointed to the balcony above that appeared to be empty.
"Max is waiting for us," I reminded him.
"Max is waiting for me, and as far as I'm concerned, he can wait all fucking night," Gatsby growled and took my hand, leading me through the dance floor in the opposite direction of Max and his friends. I let out a giggle of excitement as he took me to the elevator that was hidden from the public. I looked back to see if we were being watched, but not one person seemed to be paying attention to us.
The moment the elevator closed, Gatsby pulled a key from his pocket and shoved it into a lock. Instantly I was pressed against the wall and his arms and mouth were on me. Our lips collided in a fiery passion. Our tongues reached out, needing to consume each other .
"Jesus Christ, I've never been more jealous in my life," he gasped between kisses. "That fucker putting his hands on you like you're his ? I can't stand it." His hands roamed down my dress, stopping at my ass. He squeezed and then lifted me. I wrapped my legs around his waist and we continued kissing.
"I'm not his," I promised, closing my eyes and relishing the feel of his hardness against my underwear. "I'm yours, Gatsby. Until time itself ends."
"Yeah?" he asked, suddenly pulling his head away. Carefully, he sat me down and I frowned, my body screaming for us to keep going. He took a step back and smoothed back his hair and straightened his suit. He turned back to the doors and removed the key, pushing the button for the next floor up. Silently, we went up, and when the door opened, he took my hand and escorted me out. He took me to the railing and stood behind me as I looked down at the party. "Prove it."
"Prove what?" I started to smile, but faltered when I looked over my shoulder and he wasn't smiling back. Gatsby, looking serious as stone, began to lift the skirt of my dress, and when my backside was completely exposed, he reached for my panties. I stiffened, realizing what he wanted. His hard length pressed against my ass.
"We can't!" I exclaimed, but he only chuckled in my ear.
"Can't? Why? Afraid he'll see?" The way he emphasized the words shot arrows into my heart, telling me he was in pain—this was his way of expressing it. Gatsby had never been good with telling me what was on his mind, why he hurt so much. If this was the only way to show him...
"I'm afraid everyone will see," I admitted, looking down again at the party. I scanned the hundreds of attendees, and not one seemed to be paying us any mind.
"Who cares? You're mine, right? Let them watch..." He ran his smooth tongue along my neck, sending delicious shivers straight to my core. His hands then slid under my panties. He hooked them and began to drag them down as my legs parted for him.
"Let them see who exactly you belong to..."