Barbra. Gotcha.
I nudge Kaz and nod in her direction.
“She looks disappointed, Dario,” he mutters.
“You should ask her to dance.”
I nearly gag. “I’m not doing that.”
He laughs silently, shoulders shaking. “You’re a young, mysterious man. She’ll eat it up.”
He’s right. I can fake it long enough to lure her outside. Easier than our main plan.
“Fuck. You’re right.” I groan.
I stride across the room and step up beside Barbra.
“You’re too lovely to be standing here watching.” I lean in and whisper it in her ear.
She turns, anger gone in a flash, giving me a half-baked smile. Probably all that filler holding her face together.
“Is that your way of asking me to dance?” Her voice is high, fake-sweet, like she’s trying to sound twenty years younger.
I offer my hand, voice dropping into a smooth, sultry tone. “Of course.”
I scan her bony figure stuffed into a too-tight red dress, fake tits on the verge of bursting the seams. She beams at the attention.
Faking it till you make it.
As the next song starts, I glide her to the center of the room. She presses against me, aligning our bodies like she’s trying to crawl inside my skin.
We start to move—not gracefully on her part—and I catch Selene and Keir still dancing. My girl meets my eyes, laughter twinkling in hers.
“What kind of business are you in?” Barbra asks, biting her lipstick smudged lip.
Gag.
“Finance. Just here meeting a few clients.”
“Oooh, I bet you do well.”
“I do okay. What about you, bombshell?”
She giggles. “I’m a homemaker.”
I twirl her, giving myself a break from her choking perfume.
“So, you have a husband then?” I ask, feigning disappointment.
She laughs. “No, but I’m in the market for one.”
Of course, she doesn’t mention she’s recently widowed.
“I see. Maybe we could go for a walk?” I trail my fingers down her spine.
She shivers—overacted and forced. Nothing like Selene’s real, involuntary reactions.
“I definitely think we could use some privacy.” Her voice turns into a whimper.
