Chapter 41 #2
When we stopped, one of his hands found my waist, the other held my hand out, like we’d done this a thousand times.
We swayed in time with the music, and it was at this moment I was thankful that I’d chosen a dress that hid my feet, because I had no idea what steps went where, or what I was supposed to be doing.
But Marcus… of course he knew.
“How is it you know so much and you can dance?” I asked, not taking my eyes off him.
He shrugged, his smirk curling. “Mamà tried to get me into ballroom dancing when I was younger. These four steps were the only thing that stuck.”
I didn’t hide my smile. “Good, because I have no idea what I’m doing.”
His smile widened. “Want me to take the lead?”
My heart betrayed me and, before I could think, I nodded, surrendering myself to him.
He smiled down at me again, and then we slowed, enough for him to lead me into a twirl, the skirt of my dress flaring out, glittering under the lights. He pulled me back into him, this time closer, our chests brushing. And that did nothing but confirm two things.
One: I one hundred per cent, definitely, without a doubt still loved this man.
And two: He was still my number one safe space.
Which, in a room full of strangers judging my work, being all that stood between me and my dream, was where I needed to be right now.
As we danced, I sank into his hold more and more, and in no time my cheek lay flat against his heartbeat, as his hand slipped to the small of my back, holding me in place.
“I like your tux.” I said against him, and I felt his chest rumble with a laugh.
I felt his hand flex against my back. “I love your dress.”
He doesn’t love you, though.
I shut my eyes.
“Are you having fun?”
He sniffed a laugh. “Yes. Are you?”
I shrugged against him. “I was.”
His body tensed. “Until I showed up?”
Fuck.
“No.” I shook my head against him. “Until I thought about what happens after tonight when I don’t win.”
As the music tempo quickened, so did his steps, leading me into another dance sequence. “How do you know you’re not going to win?”
I shrugged, still not looking at him. “Just a hunch.”
The corners of my eyes stung.
“How have your weeks been?”
“Fine?” I heard the confusion in his voice.
“That’s good.” I let out a breath, easing the pressure in my chest. “Anything interesting happen?”
Then, he audibly laughed. Properly chuckled. Loudly. And I couldn’t not pull away and look at him then. “What?”
His eyes fell back down on me. “What’s with all the questions?” He asked, his smile wide.
I blinked. “I’m just making conversation.”
He shook his head, still dancing me. “No, you’re not.” His hand moved back to my waist, holding me close. “A few weeks away from you isn’t going to make me forget how well I know you.” His eyes flicked between mine. “Why are you asking me every question under the—”
“Maybe because I’m trying to ask you everything but the only thing I want to know.”
I watched the emotion drain from his face, as we stilled and came to a halt. Suddenly he was a mirror of himself from that night on the roof; shaky hands, breathless, that stream of panic coursing through his eyes. All of that for one very simple question.
Do you love me?
Our stare was bounded. “A few weeks away from you isn’t going to stop me from wanting to hear your answer.”
His glassy eyes held mine, and I wondered then if it was more than him being too nervous to admit it.
I’d be lying if I said I hadn’t convinced myself that that was the reason he’d frozen when I’d asked him, simply because that was easier to swallow than thinking he didn’t love me, or at least think that he could, one day.
But looking at him now, his skin paling, his mouth gaped, his voice non-existent, I was starting to think that I had no choice but to swallow it.
And as that thought embedded itself into my mind, I slowly slipped out of his hold. He tried to cling onto me, but I wouldn’t let him. I couldn’t.
I stepped back. He stepped forward.
His hand reached for me. I pulled away. Walked away.
I tried not to let the look on his face slow me down. Still managed to catch up to me.
“Cora.” He breathed, his hands brushing mine.
I shook my head. “I can’t.”
And I turned around, grabbed a champagne off a passing tray, ready to find a corner of this ballroom where he possibly couldn’t find me, but as I did I walked into something hard and shadowy.
“Oh fuck, sorry!” The shadowy thing said, and when I cleared my eyes and looked up I saw a man who looked an awful lot like Marcus.
At first I thought it was him, but then my eyes dried enough to notice that the features weren’t nearly as intense as his, nor were they strong enough.
They were softer, prettier, with no edge or dare.
And compared to Marcus, his mask was a deep maroon, matching his suit.
“You okay?” He asked, looking at me, then looking over my shoulder. “Is she okay?”
I turned around to find Marcus on my heels, his face free of any evidence that he’d been sad, as he hiked his smile back up.
“Um, yeah.” He looked at me and then I realised that that sadness was actually exactly where I last saw it.
He could just hide it well. “Cora, this is Oscar. My younger brother.”
I held Marcus’ gaze for another second before looking back at Oscar, and then it all made sense.
He was Marcus, only three years younger.
Oscar looked down at me and smiled, his dimples deeper than his brother’s. “It’s nice to finally meet you.” His dark eyes sparkled. “I just saw one of your paintings, actually. If you don’t win I’ll pay for the programme myself because, Jesus, you’re good.”
That pulled a little smile out of me. It was nervous, but it diffused whatever tension that was hanging over us.
“Thank you.” I sniffed. “I was just going…” I looked back at Marcus, into his eyes that silently pleaded for me to wait.
And I hated that my heart listened to him.
“To get a drink.” My eyes fell to the half-full glass in my hand.
“Another one.” I whipped out my fakest smile. “Would anyone else like one?”
“I’ll go.” Marcus breathed. He kept staring at me, like he couldn’t quite believe I was still standing here. The corners of his mouth peaked a little, as he reached for my glass. “Be right back.”
And then he turned away, weaving through the dance floor.
“Yeah no, I’m fine. Thanks, bro!” Oscar called, and only then did I remember that I wasn’t alone.
I spun around to face Oscar, nervously smiling. “Sorry, it’s nice to meet you too.” A bunch of high-pitched laughs sounded behind us, earning my attention for a second before turning back to face Oscar.
His charming smile beamed down on me, one I was sure had worked a treat many times before. “You’ve met the whole fucked-up Romano clan now.”
My laugh was nervous as I took a sip of my drink. “I wouldn’t say fucked up.”
His brows rose. “Severely fucked up?”
I laughed, my nerves melting the longer I stood here, then shook my head. “I’d say strong.” My hands flailed. “To go through what you’ve all been through and still be laughing takes strength.”
“And patience.” He shuffled, his eyes flitting to the floor and then back to me. “I just had to believe that one day things would be normal again, and eventually they were.”
“I get that.” My face pulled. “Well, I’m starting too.”
Oscar shrugged, like he knew. “Don’t get me wrong, I’m still being patient.” Something in his eyes shifted. “Guess it’s hard to outrun something that you’re around all the time.”
I rolled the invisible lint between my fingers, peering up at him. “Harder when you’re pretending like everything in your life is perfect and shiny.” My smile spread wide, pretty.
He eyed me. “How’s all that going, by the way?”
My eyes pinched. “How much has Marcus told you?”
“I’m here, aren’t I?” He jutted his chin at me, eyes tracing my face. “I know what this night means to you.”
This time my smile was real. “Then I can be honest and say that I think it’s going to take a lot for me to ever willingly go back to that life.” My eyes danced around the room. “Life is way too short to spend it crying in your room and believing that your dreams will only ever be dreams.”
His eyes slid closed as his head shook, like I’d stolen the words from his mind. “Fuckin’ amen to that.”
A laugh blew through my nose as my eyes fell to my feet. Then two seconds later they were searching the crowd for the only place I wanted to look. To the only person I shouldn’t want to look at.
It wasn’t hard to spot him. He was the tallest person in here. Even if he wasn’t, I’m sure the compass pin in my brain would find him because he felt like my true north. Had done for a while. He was where I’d run to when I didn’t know where else to go. He was plan A through Z.
He was as good as home.
And I was scared that would be true regardless of whether he ever answered my question.
“He’ll come to his senses.”
I blinked as Oscar’s voice brought me back to the moment, my eyes finding him. And when I saw that knowing look on his face, I panicked. I painted on my smile, high and mighty and not at all real. “What do you mean?”
He laughed, a proper one. The same kind his brother had. Deep and real. “You really don’t need to do that.” He knocked his head to the side. “You think he doesn’t tell me everything?”
My breaths stuttered as I tried to find my words, as my gaze flicked back towards Marcus, until I waved that tiny white flag and looked back at Oscar. “I’m not so sure he will.”
His eye roll made me wonder whether the Romano genes contained some secret spell that made you fall for all of them. Then they slowly sank back to me, his head shaking. “C’mon. What’s not to like?”
It was my turn to roll my eyes.
He chuckled. “No, seriously. You’re smart, your accent is like honey, your art skills are… award-worthy, you know?”
My face pulled inwards. “It’s subjective.”
“It’s awesome.” He nodded, his eyes wide. “Own it.”
It was like charm was sewn into their genes.
I blew him off, jutting my hand forward.
But Oscar carried on. “Seriously. I mean, if you want a list; you’re funny, you’re strong, oh, and you’re pretty.” He chuckled to himself. “God's sake, even when you cry, you’re gorgeous.”
The autopilot in my head flashed red then, switching off and putting my mind back in control.
I peered up at Oscar, my body still. “When I cry?” The laugh that left me was pure confusion. “How would you…”
My ears muffled as the question faded on my tongue.
It didn’t hit me all at once. It crept in—like a drop of ink bleeding through water—his words sinking into me before my brain could catch up. And then, suddenly, I knew. The air snapped cold in my lungs as the pieces locked into place.
Him.
It had always been him.
While the whole world around us slowed, Oscar was watching me the whole time, waiting.
His expression didn’t shift, not yet, but his eyes did—like he could see the exact second the light switched on inside my head.
The spark I’d mistaken for charm dimmed, collapsing into something sharper, hungrier.
He let me see it. Let me watch him shed the mask, like it was his reward for my figuring it out.
Like a silent siren had sounded, his eyes lightened, only a little, but it was then that I saw just how dark they’d gotten. His smirk peeked, but all it did now was scare me.
“Did I say too much?” He asked, wicked smile freezing me in place.
My stomach hollowed, my pulse spiked in my throat, and in that silence between us, I realised too late: I’d solved the mystery, but in doing so, I’d stepped straight into the monster’s hands.
I couldn’t speak. Couldn’t move. But my eyes lifted, finding Marcus at the bar, and just as he turned round, pain cuffed my wrists. I gasped, my eyes swallowed by his.
“He won’t be far behind, trust me.” He tugged my wrist, spinning me until my back met his chest, when something cold hit my open back.
It didn’t take long for me to picture the barrel, pressing deep into my skin. Oscar dipped his mouth to my ear, my eyes squeezed shut. “Precaution. Can’t have you ruining the big reveal now, can we?”
Just thinking of what waited beyond those ballroom doors shattered me.
“Why are you doing this?” I asked, panic like I’d never known welling in my throat.
His hot breath hit my ear, and I don’t know why, but I started to cry. “All in good time, Holland.”
Defeat hugged my heart, my cheeks hot with tears. But I lifted my head, just enough to find his eyes. “He’ll hate you forever for this.”
What looked like guilt flicked in his eyes for the briefest of moments, before they were back to what I imagined the dark side of the moon looked like. There was no relenting. No faltering. Just pure, undiluted evil, staring back down at me.
“I’ve hated him for just as long.”