9. Emma
Emma
The ladies’ room door closes behind me, muting the ballroom to a pulse under my heels.
Perfume, hairspray, and powder crowd the air.
I set my clutch down and let my shoulders drop.
I brace both hands on the marble counter and breathe slowly until my lungs stop fighting against the assault of fragrances.
The woman staring back at me is a stranger, with smoky eyes, pinned-up hair, and a row of diamonds circling her throat where my mother’s locket should be. Dark green silk following curves I usually hide beneath soft sweaters and faded jeans. The dress belongs in that ballroom, even if I do not.
I blink at my reflection in the mirror, and the camera flash bursts behind my eyes all over again.
My fingers tighten against the marble.
The room had started closing in on me. Too many people, too many cameras, too many faces turning my way before pretending they had not been staring.
Even with two walls between us, I find myself listening for Alex.
A tissue appears beside my reflection.
“Rough night?”
I turn.
The woman holding it has red hair, a scattering of freckles, and a blue dress that looks far more comfortable on her than mine feels on me. Something about the combination catches beneath my ribs.
Fiona.
I knew her for only a few days before leaving Pinehaven, yet the resemblance brings such a sudden ache of homesickness that I have to look down.
I take the tissue. “That obvious?”
“You’ve been in here six minutes. I counted. Not judging. I’m on nine.”
A laugh slips out of me, the first tonight that hasn’t been for an audience. I take the tissue and press it carefully beneath one eye. “This isn’t really my scene.”
“Mine either.” She offers her hand. “Finn.”
“Emma.”
Her grip is warm and certain.
“You remind me of someone back home,” I say before I can stop myself.
Finn tilts her head. “Someone you like, I hope.”
“Yes. She has red hair, too. And freckles. Not exactly like yours, obviously, but close enough that for a second I thought—” I stop and hear myself. “Sorry. I talk too much when I’m nervous.”
“You miss home, don’t you?”
“I do.” The admission escapes too quickly, and the rest follows it. “It’s a small town in Texas. I’m not from there originally, but it’s home now. Or it was. I mean, it still is. I’m only in New York for a few days, and then I’m going back to Dallas, but that isn’t home either.”
Finn’s mouth curves, not mocking, only kind.
“First time in New York?”
“Yes.”
“Then you should see something besides this hotel before you leave.”
“I’ll try. You’re the first friendly person I’ve spoken to tonight.”
“I’m happy to be the friendly face.”
I glance towards the door. “Any advice before I go back out there?”
“Look bored. Bored and disinterested. No one bothers a woman who looks as though she has already heard everything they are about to say.”
“Does that work?”
“It hasn’t failed me yet.”
A laugh slips out of me, the first tonight that does not feel expected.
“I’ll try. Thank you, Finn.”
“At least wait until your hands stop shaking.”
I look down at the tissue crumpled between my fingers. I take one more breath and head for the door. Before I leave, I glance back and see Finn speaking to a dark-haired woman emerging from the last stall.
The woman has regal features, olive skin, and the posture of someone born knowing rooms will make space for her. Finn leans closer, their voices too low for me to catch.
So she really is the ballroom godmother for wayward runaways.
Although this woman does not look like she needs rescuing. She looks like she belongs here.
I push through the door and return to the noise.
The bass travels through the floor and up my legs. Couples rotate beneath chandeliers while servers slip between them with silver trays balanced at shoulder height.
Finn’s advice lasts three steps.
I turn into the corridor and walk directly into a wall, wearing a tuxedo.
Hands close around my upper arms before I lose my balance.
“Easy.”
I look up.
And farther up.
Dante Valenti is taller than any man has a right to be, broad enough to block the ballroom behind him. His blond hair is cropped short, and his glasses should soften his face but only make the intelligence in his dark eyes more difficult to ignore.
“Mr. Valenti.”
“Dante. Would you do me the honor of a dance?”
“That is an alarming opening sentence.”
“A private conversation will draw attention. A dance will convince everyone I’m either charming you or boring you.”
“I’m not sure that’s a good idea.” My gaze goes over his shoulder before I can stop it, hunting the crowd for the one man who would mind. “He’s not going to like that.”
“He’s occupied,” Dante says. “The Belgians have a zoning problem, and your Hartley has opinions. I’ll return you in one piece. I give you my word.”
“You are either reckless or extremely confident in your own abilities.”
“So I’ve been told.”
He waits without reaching for me.
I should refuse. Dancing with Dante will irritate Alex, and the last thing I need is another confrontation tonight.
But Alex has kept me off balance since we arrived, and for once I want to be the one who unsettles him.
Besides, Dante asked for this dance for a reason.
I place my hand in his.
Dante guides me onto the floor, his touch formal and careful. His palm settles between my shoulder blades without pulling me closer.
Alex can make the same strip of skin tighten from several feet away.
“I owe you an apology,” Dante says.
The band swells around us as he leads me through the first turn.
“Why?”
“The day you were followed. My men were watching the other man following you and failed to recognize the real threat until it was too late.”
“Other man?”
“Your guy.”
Heat rises beneath my makeup. “Alex is not my guy.”
“Funny.”
“What?”
“I never said Alex.”
“You said my guy.”
“I could have meant anyone.”
“You didn’t.”
His mouth moves at one corner.
“No. I didn’t.”
“You’re enjoying this.”
“A little.”
He lets me suffer for exactly one turn of the floor before he sobers.
“I gave you my word I would keep you safe. I keep arriving minutes too late to honor it. That sits badly with me. Men in my world are worth what their word is worth.”
“You believed me when I said something was wrong,” I say. “You offered to help without even knowing what you were stepping into. That’s more than most people have ever done for me.”
His jaw flexes around an argument, so I move before he can make it.
“You could not have predicted everything.”
“I should have predicted enough.”
“You’re talking about the man who attacked me.”
“And the one asking questions about your brother.”
My steps falter.
Dante adjusts his hold before anyone watching can notice.
“You know about that?”
He studies me through his glasses. “I have failed badly enough that you no longer trust my ability to protect you.”
“I don’t even know you.”
“That has never changed the promise.”
“Then why make it?”
His gaze moves over my shoulder, briefly checking the room before returning to me.
“Let’s say I owe you a debt.”
“You already said that last time. But what do you mean?”
“One I’ll explain when the time is right.”
“That is a not an answer.”
I’m getting tired of those.
I’m also beginning to wonder where Alex is. I expected him to storm onto the dance floor the second Dante touched me, but there has been no interruption, no icy hand at my back, no voice telling me the dance is over.
“No,” Dante says. “But it’s the only answer I can give you tonight.”
I turn my head, searching the crowd again.
A small smile touches his mouth. “Frustrating, isn’t it?”
“What?” I ask, still looking for Alex.
“Having questions and getting no answers.”
I look back at him.
“Rather like what you do to Hartley.”
My breath catches.
Dante’s expression shifts. “Don’t panic. I’m not a mind reader, I promise. I simply know more than you think I do.”
“How?”
“We’ve been looking for you for almost ten years.”
Everything inside me stops.
He keeps his hand steady at my back as we move through the dance, but the floor no longer feels solid beneath my feet.
“If not for the Hartleys,” he continues quietly, “we might never have found you. You’re far better at disappearing than most people who go into protection.”
My knees threaten to give out.
For ten years, this secret has belonged to me alone. Liam was too young when it began. Too young to understand what I was carrying or why every rule mattered. I went into hiding with him, but I have carried the truth by myself ever since.
And now a man I know very little about is speaking it out loud in the middle of a ballroom.
My first thought is the Accord.
It must show on my face.
“Emma.” Dante’s grip firms just enough to steady me. “Breathe. I will never hurt you. You have no reason to be afraid of me. Please.”
I try, but the first breath catches halfway down.
He keeps us moving slowly, holding me upright until the room stops tilting and my knees feel like mine again.
Then he says, “I know because protection was offered to me too.”
That gets through.
I stare at him. “You know about the Accord?”
The last word is a whisper on my lips.
He nods.
“They destroyed my family too.”
My stomach drops.
His eyes search mine. “And I take it Hartley doesn’t know.”
I shake my head.
“Figured as much.”
“You cannot tell him.” The words rush out of me. “Please. Liam’s future depends on me keeping this secret. His safety. His life.”
Dante watches me with an expression I cannot read.
“As you say, Emma.”
He exhales and glances away before looking back at me with a softer smile.
“I would like you to meet my family someday. My sister, especially. She is the only family I have left.”
“I’d like to meet her.”
“She wanted to come tonight. Very badly, actually. She was disappointed when she couldn’t.”
My brow furrows. “Why would she want to meet me?”
“Because in my household, you are something of an angel.”
I almost miss the next step.
“I don’t understand.”
“You will.”
“Your answers are irritatingly vague.”
“I spend a great deal of money maintaining that reputation.”
Despite myself, I smile.