Chapter 17 #3
My breath hitches in my throat from our proximity. The riskiest thing we’ve done is hold hands, but now our bodies are fully touching. My heart beats rapidly in my chest, heat rises on my neck, and I can’t take my eyes off him.
Slowly, we find our rhythm, my muscles loosening as I get swept up in the music. Over his shoulder, the Fourniers are going all in with the Foxtrot, showing off their steps. Realizing they might give a tipsy Henry a dangerous idea, I lean forward, my lips near his ear.
“Don’t forget Mr. Abbott,” I whisper. “Your wife is with child and should not be dipped or spun around like a ballerina.”
Henry’s lips lean against my ear, and he whispers, “Thank you for reminding me, wife.”
I feel him smile into the crook of my neck.
Before I know it, we get lost in our world, dancing like we aren’t running for our lives, dancing like I’m not secretly carrying around dangerous devices that can ruin the world.
At this moment, we are simply two people dancing the night away. Every now and then, Henry dips me halfway or spins me slowly, causing boisterous laughter to come from both of us. I cannot remember the last time I had this much fun with little worries running through my mind.
Throughout the night, we proceed to dance and even play a few rounds of poker and blackjack. It isn’t until I take a glance at the clock do I realize how late into the night it has become.
I nudge Henry with my elbow, gesturing toward the time.
He looks back at me, eyebrows raised, eyes wide, just as shocked by how quickly time went by. A wave of relief washes over me when he nods, understanding that we need to go.
With a full house of cards in his hands, Henry places them face down at the table. “I fold.”
The round is left to Helen and Mr. Meier. With a raised eyebrow, Helen places another two red chips in the middle pile, confident in her cards. Mr. Meier doesn’t back down and places a green chip next to hers.
Helen shows her cards on the table: a straight set of different suits from five to nine.
Mr. Meier gives an impressed look that turns into a smug grin. Slowly, he places his cards, a flushed set of hearts, onto the table.
The room erupts with loud yells of cheers. Helen’s face is shocked as she stares down at the winning cards. “I can’t believe you managed to pull a flush on me!”
Mr. Meier shrugs his shoulders as he drags his winnings closer to him. “I may or may not be an expert in playing poker, Mrs. Fournier.”
Helen chuckles as she shakes her head at him. “You certainly fooled me.”
“I’m afraid we must call it a night, friends,” Henry announces, rising from his seat and then helping me out of mine.
“Oh, come on, Edward, just one more round,” Antoine pleads.
Henry shakes his head, faking disappointment. “Apologies all, but we really must go. Have a good night.”
Helen rises from her seat and pecks both of my cheeks goodnight—the French way. “This was such a lovely night, Georgina. We must do it again tomorrow.”
“Yes! We must.”
Henry places his hand lightly on my back as we depart the lounge car and walk along the corridor to our suite. I can still hear the echoes of their loud voices as we drift farther away. A grin of genuine happiness remains plastered on my face.
Slowly, I unwind from the thrill and excitement of the night. Soreness tightens around my muscles. I’m hot and covered in sweat from all the dancing.
Closing my eyes, I let out a sigh, trying to catch my breath from hours of not sitting still. My throat aches for the relief of water.
I walk over to the bar cart for a glass of water, only to find the pitcher empty. I groan in frustration, realizing the steward didn’t replenish the pitcher during the day.
“Let me get that refilled,” Henry says, his voice hoarse.
He steps closer, arm extended, waiting for me to hand him the pitcher. I get lost staring at his mouth as he licks his dry lips.
When I come to my senses, I hand him the pitcher. “Thank you,” I mutter, voice completely shattered.
When the door shuts behind him, I’m left alone for the first time in days. It feels utterly strange to be by myself, like something’s amiss. Then I realize why. This is the first time Henry and I are not right beside each other. My heart thumps erratically, terrified of us being apart for too long.
Before I decide if I want to follow him, a knock sounds at the door. Impatient to feel cool water soothing my irritated throat, I glide over and open it. It wasn’t until I opened the door that I realized Henry had a key. Realizing the mistake, a tidal wave of panic and terror crashes through me.
Before I can close the door, I’m shoved back inside the suite, the door shutting quietly behind the intruder.
A rough hand covers my mouth, stopping me from calling out for help.
I’m pushed backward until my back smacks into the living room wall, their body pinning me in place.
The sharp edge of a switchblade presses against my throat as I swallow down bile. My petrified eyes land on the intruder.
“Don’t you dare make a noise.”