Chapter 23
Chapter
Twenty-Three
Sage
It occurs to me now that I've never seen over ten people in a room at once. Not since I was nine years old have I had to be too long in crowds. The most people I've ever seen in one place were the men storming our compound to kill either me or my father.
My very large and very public engagement party is an inopportune time to discover this. Similarly so, a terrible time to discover crowds might actually scare the shit out of me.
I hide around the corner for a moment longer, my body refusing to cooperate and just go down the fucking stairs into the ballroom.
I'm wearing a silk, olive cocktail dress that stops a generous amount below my knee but has a slit in the side that runs up to my thigh.
The silk clings to me like wrap, the corset-like top hugging my breasts and dipping in between my cleavage.
I've left my hair loose, but falling in dark waves down my back, and have lined my green eyes with a shimmering rose shadow and dark liner.
I smooth down the front of my dress as I try to reason with myself.
All I have to do is walk downstairs into a party.
Nobody is going to stop and stare at me.
Nobody will even notice me nor care that I'm there.
Are there possibly hundreds upon thousands (okay maybe not thousands) of people here?
Sure. That doesn't mean they're paying attention to me.
This can all be over in minutes. All I'll have to do is walk. Down. Stairs.
I take a deep breath and dive in.
I step foot onto the top step and the murmuring stops, heads twirling in my direction.
Oh, I was dead wrong. Every-fucking-one is looking.
I melt under the pressure. Feeling like I'm under the harsh stare of a spotlight.
Not a conversation in the room continues as I will my poor feet to walk.
Victor steps forward to wait at the bottom of the stairs, unbuttoning his suit jacket and placing a hand in his pocket.
I want to anchor myself to him; I do. But I can't look at him.
I can't look at fucking Victor Rushkoff right now.
When I descend, it's obvious everyone has been waiting for this entrance. For me. Specifically. But I don't know half the people in this room. Whatever tonight is, it's my uncle's game. Not mine.
I cling to the banister like it might save my life, walking down one step at a time as the party guests watch me. I survey their eyes, trying to feel what they are thinking. The appreciative gazes of men and flaring nostrils of women tell me enough.
Anton and Freddie are on one side of the crowd. We lock eyes and they give me their best version of encouragement, sheepish thumbs up. Thanks, guys. But it's not enough.
It's not enough.
I can't move into a crowd of people, some of whom probably want me dead. Are they the ones? Are they ones who are after me? Sweat beads at my temple and my skin dampens.
I can't. Can't. Can't. Can't.
I feel myself sinking. I'm seconds away from running. Alone, eyes feel like loaded guns and me, prey for the slaughter.
A pair of stormy gray eyes catch mine.
Alexei's eyes lock onto mine, more intense than any other eye in the room. But somehow settling. He holds eye contact with me as he takes a visible deep breath that reminds me to do the same. I let the air into my lungs.
My wobbly feet get steadier.
I center myself in the storm cast behind his eyes, and his throat bobs on a swallow.
It's as if the edges of the room glitter away into dust. Lining us up together like we are covered in a spotlight. The faces around his blur until they fade to black entirely, like each slow step that I take, I take it only to be closer to him.
His fingers twitch at his side. To hold himself back? To reach out and touch me?
I brush a lock of hair behind my ear, becoming more and more aware of how close I am getting to the bottom. And what I might do when I reach that bottom step.
When I cry, I cry silently. He knows, and he hears my silent cry right now.
He moves then too. Towards me. He jostles several people out of the way in his haste.
His haste to make it to me. It's then that I make the mistake of looking down.
Victor watches me with confusion, which turns into a glare when he looks over his shoulder and makes eye contact with his brother. Alexei stops in his tracks.
I turn my head in shame, only to find Nicholas. He's standing off to the right and from the horrified look on his face he has just witnessed absolutely fucking everything.
I nearly trip on the last step, but Victor's arm is ready and waiting for me, catching me and disguising my stumble as he helps me upright.
"Hi," I say, looking up at Victor, only sparing a brief glance to watch Isla corral Alexei back into line.
"Sage, you look wonderful," Victor says.
"You clean up well too," I say. I press a kiss to his cheek - chaste, of course - and he softens. Thankfully, it seems he is willing to drop whatever the fuck he's just witnessed.
"Come, let me dance with you."
As Victor tries to lead me to the dance floor, Uncle Anton appears out of nowhere to block our path.
"Actually, I think I'm owed first dance.
" He smiles curtly at Victor and then levels me with a look.
My deviant fiancé looks like he wants to argue, but Anton is technically the one giving me away.
So, in our world, it is his right to the first dance if he wants it.
As the music begins to warm the atmosphere, I notice that there's a spot cleared in the center of the dining room. Now that the table has been cleared away, it comes off more like the ballroom it was meant to be. There are already several people paired up to dance.
Without saying a word, Anton grips my hand and leads me to the dance floor, spinning me into position before beginning to guide me in the movements.
When Anton doesn't immediately say anything, nerves start to flutter inside me.
Subtle glances to the crowd show me their wistful smiles as they watch us.
"Anton?" I ask, clearing my throat.
"I need a minute," Anton says. "To think of what I'm going to say to you without pissing you off."
"Excellent start," I deadpan.
Anton sighs, spinning me into a slow twirl before drawing me back into frame and leveling me with a look. "It seems some attentions have strayed your way."
My heart sinks and I nervously drop my head. "It's unwanted."
"Is it?" He raises a brow at me as I lift my chin to regard him again. His eyes tell me a story of what he sees. I don't even know what I'm seeing. But Anton looks at me like he certainly does.
"Whatever is happening with Alexei it needs to stop. This is life and death, anima mia."
I tense my jaw and my hands tighten on his before he hisses. I grimace as I loosen my grip.
"There's nothing going on there," I say.
"Not right now," Anton says, agreeing. "You're supposed to be marrying his brother, though, Sage. These people can't see you fawning over anyone other than Victor." His lip curls on the last part as if he doesn't like it any more than I do.
When I don't respond, my feet moving limply, Anton gives me a knowing look. Full of regret, I nod. Anton nods too, like he doesn't really trust me but knows his message has hit its mark regardless.
He brushes a lock of hair behind my ear and the song ends.
"Ah, Anton!" A voice calls out from somewhere in the crowd.
Anton gives them a wave and a smile before lowering his voice to say to me, "Try to look like you're having fun, hey?" He gives me a smirk and then disappears.
I flinch as a new song starts up and I'm left standing in the middle of the dance floor alone. Pairs start to spin around me, but my nerves are shot to hell. I shake my head to dislodge an errant train of thought and turn abruptly. When I do, I turn straight into a hard chest.
My eyes shoot upward, past tight muscles bound in a dark suit against a black shirt and black tie. All the way up to blacker hair and gray eyes.
Alexei looks down on me with an expression more intense than I've ever seen from him before. For a moment, we hold like that, chests pressed together as my lips part on an inhale. He extends a hand to me, his tone breathy. "Dance with me?"
I look down at the hand he has pressed between us and bite my lip. Anton literally warned me to stay away from Alexei no less than five seconds ago. I can't be caught dancing with him now. Especially after my grand entrance. Especially before I've danced with my future husband.
"Sure," I say.
Alexei's lips tip up in a smirk as I place my hand in his much larger, firmer one.
His gaze seals on mine as he walks backwards, tugging me along gently with him.
We reach the center of the dance floor and he pulls me into him, eliciting a sharp gasp from me when he settles his other hand at my hip.
It takes me a moment to realize he's constructed the perfect dance frame and my hand that he isn't holding hangs limply.
He leans in, lips brushing my ear. "Hand on my shoulder, princess."
I scowl. "I know."
He chuckles as he leads me around the dance floor.
We step into a waltz pattern like the others around us, but we're far too close to be holding a proper frame.
The dance feels like a battle of wits as we each move more fiercely, regarding only each other as I follow every complicated step he leads each time he ups the ante.
As the song progresses, the innocent hand he had on my hip moves to my waist and curls around my back. The one I had at his shoulder moves around until it's cupping the back of his neck.
Our movements get faster. More passionate. The other people on the floor with us look amateur in comparison. We glide across the space at speed, turning and turning until my hair starts to twirl with us. All the while there's no sight for us but one another.
Like we're being sucked into the center of a vortex, we continue to spin as the velocity pulls us closer. Our feet whirr at speed in expert time, never stepping out of place.