Chapter 27
I stare at myself in the mirror and that one fucking straight piece of hair stares back at me. Dammit.
We enter The Plaza’s Grand Ballroom and I should really be used to the grandeur after seeing what the lobby and our room had to offer. However, I am absolutely in awe of the room before me. The sky-high ceiling boasts massive crystal chandeliers, and the room is surrounded by towering arches straight out of a movie scene.
Round tables with lush white and green floral arrangements taller than me circle a dance floor with hundreds of candles littering the tabletops, making it seem like we are in some sort of enchanted fairy world.
I don’t realize I’ve completely stopped walking until Anders ushers me forward with a hand on the small of my back.
“Want a drink?” he asks.
“Yes, please. I’ll go with you.”
We try to make our way across the room to the bar, but Anders gets stopped several times by very elegant looking people.
I know I look good tonight, but that doesn’t make this any less intimidating. He introduces me to everyone we meet as his “friend,” and after our conversation in the bathroom earlier, that word is grating on me.
I want to be Anders’ girlfriend, but I still don’t fully trust myself. I’m nervous and I can’t pinpoint exactly why.
We get to the bar and I order a glass of champagne, and Anders grabs a club soda. “Are you okay with me drinking?” I ask as we turn away from the bar.
He looks at me with adoration, as if he really appreciates me asking that question. “Of course. But thank you for asking. I actually don’t mind when people drink around me. I’m not sure what it was but my sobriety just clicked one day. Honestly, it seemed like a miracle or some sort of divine intervention.” He shrugs. “I know it’s different for everyone but for some reason I feel no desire to drink, even if those around me are.”
I nod, contemplating his words. The more I get to know him, the more impressed I am by Anders. He’s overcome a lot to be where he is today. He’s accomplished, passionate, and for some reason, wants to spend more time with me. My brow furrows and he reaches up immediately to smooth the divot that forms.
“You are thinking very loudly right now,” he chuckles.
“I just—”
“Anders,” a voice booms and Anders immediately tenses. “There you are. We’ve been waiting for you to get here. Let me grab you a whiskey.”
“I don’t drink anymore, Dad. I’ve told you this,” Anders responds, barely turning toward the towering man that has joined us.
Erik Olsson looks put together, but his rosy cheeks indicate that he’s had plenty to drink tonight. He’s tall, like his son, but he’s blonde to Anders’ bright auburn. They have the same striking green eyes, which disarms me as the eldest Olsson’s land on me.
I’m reeling from the fact that Erik Olsson doesn’t support his son’s sobriety, which makes all the more sense as to why Anders was so surprised when I asked if he was okay with me drinking tonight.
Before I get a chance to say anything, Erik’s overpowering voice cuts in again. “And who is this lovely lady?”
Anders angles his body in front of mine. “This is Bex. You remember my friend Gabe? This is his sister.”
Erik’s eyes flash back and forth between us. “Sleeping with your best friend’s sister? That’s a new low for you isn’t it, son? She is nice to look at though,” he notes, lifting his whiskey glass in a mock toast.
My whole body flushes and I can feel Anders fuming. “Back away, Erik, before I make a scene. You know Mom wants us to look like one big, happy family.” When he doesn’t move, Anders takes a step closer. “Again, I suggest you back the fuck off.”
Erik lifts his hands in surrender. “Hey, don’t mind me! I’m just impressed you listened to me for once. Keep that up and I might actually sign over your inheritance.” He turns to walk away before throwing over his shoulder, “Nice to meet you, Brooke.”
Anders immediately turns to me, eyes roaming my face to gauge my reaction. His hands come up to run comforting circles up and down my arms. “So… that was my dad. As you can see, I’m not his biggest fan.”
I am hearing Anders but my mind is whirling with the implications of what his father just said. He might sign over the inheritance? It feels like there is something I’m missing here and I really don’t like that feeling. I try to shake it off so I can enjoy the rest of the evening with Anders.
“I’m fine,” I say, even though he didn’t ask.
“Okay… that’s, uh, that’s good. Do you want to talk about it?”
I down my champagne and turn back to Anders. “Not right now. What I really want to do is dance with the handsome man who brought me here tonight. Can we do that?”
A smile skates across his face. “Of course we can, Rebecca,” he replies, offering me his hand.
Anders leads us to the dance floor, spinning me around once we get there. His hand lands on my waist and the other delicately holds my hand out to our side. It’s then that I realize that I have no idea how to dance to the fancy string quartet playing a waltz maybe?
Anders must see the look of panic on my face because he leans in and whispers, “Just let me lead, okay?”
And so I do.
And Anders does. He leads me around and around the dance floor like he was born for it. Which, I suppose he kind of was.
My skirt twirls, surrounding us, and I feel like an actual princess with my knight in shining armor rescuing me from my poor waltz skills. He just laughs when I accidentally step on his toes, eyes lighting up with mischief right before dipping me so low, I feel like I’ll tumble to the dance floor. But Anders has me, like he always does.
My nervousness over this evening melts further away with each spin we take. I really start to listen to the song and realize they are playing modern songs, Bridgerton style. This one I recognize as “You and Me” by Lifehouse, which is beautiful on the strings.
I relax enough into our dance that it dawns on me that Anders is really good at this. “Was waltzing a part of your elite boarding school education?” I tease.
“Well, I didn’t go to boarding school, but I did have to take some dance classes as a part of my theater undergrad,” he explains. “Knowing how to move your body across a stage is a necessary skill, and obviously musical theater includes all different genres of dancing, so we had several classes to introduce us to the basics.” He shrugs. “And maybe I enjoyed it and took a few extra classes on my own.”
“Anders Olsson! You did not take dance classes on your own,” I giggle in surprise.
He smirks. “I have. Still do occasionally. But I’ve never enjoyed dancing with a partner quite as much as I enjoy dancing with you. And you know what they say about dancing being the best form of seduction,” he says, adding a wink to punctuate that statement.
“I am feeling rather seduced… maybe we should just head back up to our room?”
He pulls me closer and I can feel the hard line of him pressed into my belly. With a low growl, he says into my ear, “Don’t tempt me, woman.”
I lean my neck to give him better access. “Maybe I want to tempt you.”
“As much as I’d love to throw you over my shoulder and walk out of here caveman style, the night is young and I have plans for us. But keep up this teasing”—he angles my chin so I’m forced to look him in the eye—“and you will be punished, understood?”
A jolt of heat zings down my spine. I don’t think I’ll mind being punished by Anders at all. In fact, I love his dominating side that comes out in the bedroom. He’s confident and carnal, but still playful and sweet.
“Yes, sir,” I reply, laughing as his head falls back with a groan. “Oh, you like that do you? Good to know.”
“Good God. Alright, I’m going to need you to walk in front of me so I can go to the bathroom and adjust… uh, things,” he says as he maneuvers me in front of him, walking us toward the exit of the ballroom.
Before we can get there, a petite redheaded woman that I immediately recognize as Anders’ mom intercepts us. She gives me a dismissive onceover before saying, “There you two are. Come, we need to take pictures.”
“Hello to you, too, mother dearest,” Anders calls to her, even though her back is already turned to walk away. “That’s Alice Olsson, my mother. She’s about as warm as she seems.”
“How the hell did you turn out so normal?” I ask before realizing what I just blurted out and covering my mouth with both hands. “Oh my God, that was so ru—”
But Anders stops me with a booming laugh. “You really have a hard time keeping your thoughts inside that pretty little head of yours, don’t you?”
I shrug sheepishly. “Sometimes, things just pop out. Other times, I can’t think of a single thing to say.”
“The answer to your question is a lot of therapy, people like Gabe and the rest of your family, and teachers and professors that saw something in me. And I’m still not sure I would consider myself normal, but at least I’m not like them.” He grimaces, tipping his chin in the direction of his parents.
It’s been on the tip of my tongue all night, so I turn to him and tell him, “I’m proud of you,” before giving him a quick kiss on his cheek.
He’s looking at me with those lovey-dovey eyes again so before he can respond, I drag him toward where his mother ran off. “Come on, killer. Let’s go get our picture taken.”
The rest of the night goes pretty smoothly. Aside from the first interaction with Erik Olsson, he pretty much stayed away from us all night. Though, every time I looked over at him, I caught him leering at me, leaving a feeling of disgust wherever his eyes touched. I suddenly felt too exposed with my low cut top and thigh high slit.
Anders’ mom didn’t pay much attention to us, but I know she saw the way Erik looked at me too. When she requested a picture of the four of us, Erik was placed on one side and I was on the opposite. It almost felt like her silent way of protecting me from him.
I think Anders also noticed, and though he never said anything, he also was never more than an arm”s reach away from me all night. I wonder if this is how Erik had always been, and again I have a hard time reconciling just how different Anders is from his parents.
After dinner, a full band came out to replace the string quartet. With plenty of liquid courage, the dance floor began to heat up. Anders pulled me back out a few songs ago, and I’m realizing this man is like the energizer bunny—he never gets tired. Which bodes well for me whenever he finally decides we can have actual sex.
I’m hoping that’s tonight. Dear God, I need this man.
He’s made fun of me for teasing him tonight, but has he seen himself in that tux?! He’s looking sexy as hell and I can’t wait to get him out of it.
I grind my ass into his lap as the band plays music more fit for a club than a gala at The Plaza, but I guess this is what gets people to donate?
“Careful, Baby Bardot,” he practically yells into my ear, trying to be heard over the volume of the music, his grip on my hip almost painful as he tries to stop my movement.
I turn to face him and our hips connect, moving back and forth to the beat a few times before he groans and presses his forehead to mine.
“Do you want to get out of here?” he finally says.
Hell yes.
“I thought you’d never ask.”