Page 59 of Whispers in the Dark
For her, I would do anything.
I exhale and take her hand. She laces her fingers through mine like it’s the most natural thing in the world, and I escort her inside. I’m slightly relieved to find the upbeat music hasswitched over to something soft and slower. Something more my tempo.
Not that I really know what my tempo would be.
Just as I’m about to lead her toward the group of people where she was dancing earlier, she pulls on my hand. I look over my shoulder at her.
“Let’s dance here,” she says, eyes sweeping the open space around us.
It’s darker. Quieter.
Away from the crowd that produces unease in my veins.
Just us.
I turn, keeping her hand in mine, guiding it to my chest. My other arm slides around her waist, drawing her closer. She settles easily against me, her free hand resting on my bicep, fingers curling lightly into the fabric of my sleeve.
I take a steadying breath and begin to move with the music, slow and deliberate, hoping I’m not making a complete fool of myself.
She looks up at me and grins. “You can relax,” she says softly. “You’re doing fine.” Her hand glides up my arm, warm and reassuring. “You feel tense.”
I loosen my shoulders, releasing some of the tightness.
“Much better,” she tells me, fighting back a smile. “I’m surprised you agreed to this. I didn’t think you’d want to dance.”
I quickly sign,I don’t.
Her brows knit together. “Then why are we—”
I want to dance with you.
She tucks her bottom lip between her teeth, glancing away before looking back at me. “Well… thank you. I appreciate it. I appreciate all of this. This is the best birthday I’ve ever had.” She rests her cheek against my chest. “One I’ll always remember.”
I lean down and press a kiss to her temple, my lips lingering briefly in her hair.
Alina in my arms feels…right. As if the outside world no longer exists, and it’s only her and me.
Suddenly, a spotlight snaps on, pinning us in place as the band shifts seamlessly into “Happy Birthday,” which prompts all the guests to start singing and gather around us, watching the seven-tiered cake roll our way. Alina straightens, her hand still locked with mine as she takes it all in. Her eyes widen, wonder overtaking her expression.
Silver and gold leaf gleam along the tiers with sparklers crackling at the edges. It’s extravagant. Custom-made. Impossibly indulgent. Crowned with the world’s most expensive strawberries and vanilla, too much by any reasonable standard.
And yet, somehow, it still doesn’t feel like enough.
As the song winds down, a server appears with a small step stool. Alina grips my hand tighter as she steps up, each movement careful, her lips hovering inches from the single candle at the top.
Madeleine and Scarlett appear by her other side.
“What are you going to wish for?” Madeleine asks.
Scarlett elbows her. “She can’t tell you, or it won’t come true.”
Alina laughs, then looks at me. Her gaze softens, something warm and unspoken passing between us. I lift her hand and brush my lips over her knuckles, feeling the faint shiver that runs through her. She faces the candle, closes her eyes, and blows it out in one steady breath.
As if it’s the most natural thing in the world, my dominant hand finds the center of my chest, the tip of my middle finger tapping twice. And as I watch her, surrounded by noise and celebration, I can’t help but wonder if one day she’ll tell me what she wished for or if I already know.
“You’re twenty-one. You’re not a kid anymore, Mauro. It’s time to start acting like a man. Not a child.”
I press down on the accelerator, my fingers tightening around the steering wheel as my father’s words elicit fury within me. “I don’t think that going to a club with some friends to let off steam makes me any less of a man.”
