Chapter 10 #2
“Missed this,” he murmurs, his breath too close to my ear, his words meant only for me.
I don’t respond, keeping my focus ahead… In the room. On anything but him.
But his hand starts to move. Not too fast or obvious to draw attention. Still, it makes my skin crawl.
“Still pretending you don’t feel anything?” He whispers, his voice dropping lower, dirtier, like the room doesn’t exist around us.
My stomach flips from disgust. I shift slightly, trying to reset the space between us.
He follows.
His fingers press a little firmer, sliding down my back to below my waist, enough to make it clear this isn’t accidental.
“Daniel,” I warn under my breath, my voice clipped. “Keep it appropriate.”
He chuckles against my ear.
“In front of everyone?” He drawls. “Relax. I know how to behave.”
He doesn’t, his hand sliding lower, his finger pressing against my butt crack.
I pull back, breaking the rhythm, about to walk away when I see Celine and a few of her friends moving closer. Smiling.
“That’s enough.” I force composure back into place instantly, and I step out of his hold.
His expression tilts into something like annoyance.
And then he laughs so loud.
“Damn,” he shakes his head, turning slightly so the moment spreads outward instead of staying contained. “You’re still a terrible dancer.”
A couple of people glance over.
I hold still.
He continues laughing.
“Can’t wait for all that running around to start doing something, though,” he adds, his eyes flicking over me in a way that makes my stomach turn. “Gotta stay in shape somehow, right?”
His words hit a nerve. I open my mouth to respond when something shifts.
A shadow falls over me, snipping through the light just enough to pull me out of it, and before I even turn, before I even see him, my nose catches his scent.
It slashes through everything else in the air, warm amber first, layered with something darker, almost smoky, and then that faint trace of spice underneath that lingers just long enough to stay with you.
Distinct. Unmistakable.
My breath stalls because I know it.
I’ve always known it.
I don’t need to turn.
I know him.
“Interesting observation.” Robert’s voice carries over my shoulder, deep, smooth in a way that doesn’t need volume to be heard.
I turn.
And there he is in black. Not just any black, his kind. He's in a tailored charcoal suit that's broken only by the gleam of gold at the cuffs and along the lapel, catching the light in a way that doesn’t ask for attention but takes it anyway. The shirt beneath is dark, open at the collar.
“You came.” Daniel turns, a smile forming like he thinks this is still his moment, like he hasn’t already lost it.
Robert doesn’t look at him immediately. His gaze passes over me first. Assessing.
Then he shifts it to Daniel.
“If you’re going to critique someone.” Robert continues, “You should at least make sure you’re not the weakest performer in the room.”
Daniel’s smile falters, shifting on his feet because people are leaning in.
Robert continues, adjusting his cuff as if the moment doesn’t require more than this.
“You’ve had too much to drink,” he adds, almost casually. “Go dance with your wife.”
Daniel holds his gaze for a second longer than he should, then he laughs.
“Of course,” he nods, smoothing his jacket like he’s choosing grace instead of being handed it. “You always know best.”
He dips his head slightly in mock respect.
“Wouldn’t want to embarrass the family, especially not in front of you.” His tone is lighter, but edged now. “Uncle.”
Uncle?
It takes me a minute. Not because it isn’t obvious. Because I don’t want it to be.
But the more I look, the more it clicks into place, piece by piece, like something I should have seen earlier and didn’t.
The shape of the nose.
The structure of the face.
It's not identical, Daniel is softer, less defined, like the edges were never fully sharpened, but the foundation is there. In the bone. In the way certain angles hook the light.
And then, there's the presence. It explains everything.
The way Daniel moves through things without consequence. The kind of carelessness that only comes from knowing, somewhere deep down, that someone else will handle the fallout.
That someone else will always be there.
My gaze flicks between them once.
My stomach drops, like something just knocked loose inside me. Bile rushes up my throat, climbing fast, almost choking me.
“See you around, Uncle.” Daniel steps back, turning toward Celine like nothing just happened.
The room begins to move again as if nothing broke. But the room feels different now. The music is the same, the laughter hasn’t stopped, glasses still clink but I feel it. Underneath it. That thin crack running through everything I just built so perfectly.
Too much.
It’s too much all at once.
Uncle?
I step away before anyone can stop me, before anyone can call my name or ask if everything is alright. I don’t wait for Aisha’s eyes to find mine, don’t look back to see if Blue is still laughing over something small and harmless.
I move through the crowd. Past the soft glow and the noise and the perfection of it all.
I step outside, the air hitting me differently. I inhale like I haven’t done it properly all night, my chest rising too fast before I force it to slow down.
My heels carry me further, away from the entrance, past the valet line, past the neat arrangement of parked cars that reflect the golden light spilling out from the building.
The sound dulls behind me, fading until it’s just me.
I stop for a second, pressing my fingers briefly against my temple, trying to think.
Daniel. Robert.
Uncle?
My breath leaves me in a slow, uneven exhale. I push forward again, needing more distance, more space, more… I hit something.
No, someone.
Hard.
The impact stops me mid-step, my balance shifting just enough that my hand comes up instinctively, catching against a solid built.
My breath stutters as I look up.
Robert.
For a second, I don’t move. I just stare. Because this is ridiculous now. This feels like something is closing in, like the space I built for myself is shrinking whether I want it to or not.
I open my mouth to say something. Anything. But I don’t get the chance.
His hand comes up, fast but not rough, finding my jaw, tilting my face before I can step back, before I can gather the pieces of my self-control I just barely started to piece together.
He kisses me.
My breath catches against his mouth, my body going still for half a second too long before everything reacts at once.
Heat. Shock. Recognition.
His other hand finds my waist, pulling me closer, closing whatever space I could’ve used to think, to stop this.
I should stop this.
I know I should.
But for that brief, dangerous moment, I don’t.
I can't.