Page 22 of The Arbiter
The thing is… I actually don’t think Jake is coming back tonight.
Lucy doesn’t give me time to think and I let her. Because I need a distraction. She pulls me straight into the crowd before I can look back toward the hallway again.
The music is louder here, the bass vibrating through the polished floor beneath my heels. Colored lights sweep across the room, reflecting off masks, glasses and expensive jewelry. For a moment it almost feels normal. Like this is just another stupid work party.
Lucy spins me once, laughing when I stumble slightly.
“See? Much better than hiding in corners with your psycho ex.”
I manage a weak smile.
My body moves automatically with the beat, but my mind refuses to settle. Every few seconds my gaze drifts toward the crowd behind us. Toward the edges of the room. Dark spaces between people. Looking for him.
I’m trying to convince myself that I’m only hoping he will show up and tell me he let Jake go. But I know I’m lying to myself. Maybe I want Jake to pay for what he did to me in the past. I may be worse than my own shadow.
Lucy keeps dancing like nothing happened, her energy contagious enough that my shoulders finally loosen a little. The tension slowly drains from my chest with each breath.
Her hips sway to the music almost seductively. Long brown hair spilling over her shoulders gracefully. Her eyes sparkle withhonest joy. Smile wide. Showing the tiny gap between her front teeth. She’s enjoying herself.
One song blends into the next. Another. For the first time since I stepped out of that private room, my pulse finally begins to slow. She leans closer to my ear.
“There you go. I knew you just needed a drink and a dance.”
I almost believe her. Almost. Then someone from our department waves at her from across the floor.
“Oh shit, hold on, that’s Mark. Don’t move!”
She shouts over the music, already backing away.
“I’ll be right back.”
And just like that. She disappears into the crowd. And I’m left standing there alone.
The music keeps pounding. People move around me in a blur of silk, suits and glittering masks. I exhale slowly, running a hand through my hair as I try to shake off the lingering adrenaline. Maybe Lucy's right. Maybe I just need to calm down. I just need to blend back into the sea of glittering masks.
I turn, intending to head toward the bar… And walk straight into someone. Not walk. Crash.
My body slams into a solid chest I definitely didn’t expect to be there. Strong hands catch my arms before I can stumble forward. Firm. Steady. Warm. For a split second, the entire world seems to stop. The music. The crowd. My breathing. Everything. Because I know that feeling. I know that presence.
A cold shiver runs down my spine, leaving a trail of ice in its wake. Slowly, my eyes lift.
Black suit. Tall, imposing frame. And a mask dark enough to hide most of his face, yet not enough to hide the sharp, dangerous line of his jaw. The holes for his eyes are covered in a black net, making him look like a phantom clawed straight out of my nightmares. My heart drops straight into my stomach. It’s him. And for a second, neither of us moves. Once again.
A low voice, like velvet dragged over gravel, brushes the air near my ear.
“Easy.”
The word slides down my back like cold water. I know that voice. It’s the sound from the corridor, the sound from my darkest thoughts. My pulse slams violently in my throat, a trapped bird fluttering for escape.
The moment his hands shift from my arms to settle on my waist, the world narrows to the space between us.
His touch is steady. Possessive in a quiet, terrifying way. The movement is smooth enough that, at first, it almost feels natural. Like we’re part of the dance happening all around us. Except we’re not.
I should pull away. I should scream. I should step back into the light, but I don’t. My body betrays me, falling into the rhythm of the music as he guides me a half-step closer.
One of his hands remains anchored at my waist, the other lifting slightly, palm open, silently asking for mine. I stare at it. Then, driven by a curiosity I can’t name, my fingers slide into his.
The first contact I’ve actually allowed.
