“What’s that?” I force my gaze away, at long, long last, down to my empty plate. I am unaware of having eaten dessert, but there is nothing left except brown smears and crumbs. I feel his eyes still watching me from afar, even with my own closed, pinched shut.
“Quit pretending I don’t know you better than that. Quit pretending I didn’t see the way you two danced. You may not know each other, but youwantto.”
“No, I don’t.”
“Don’t you, though?” Your eyes are sharp, too much so.
“No.” I swallow hard, force my eyes to yours. “I am loyal to Caleb. But I will agree to drop the subject if you will.”
“Fine with me.” You stand up. Extend your hand to mine, assist me to my feet. As soon as I’m upright, you let go. “I’ve had enough of this shit-show. Let’s go.”
“Very well.” I accomplish a miracle: I do not look back. Not once.
No Lot’s wife, I.
You, Thomas, and Len, you all three escort me out of the building. I am in the lead, escaping the hot confines of that building. Once we are out into the night, sirens howl and horns blare and eight people pass between me and the entrance in a gaggle talking, laughing, trailing clouds of cigarette smoke and gaiety. Fingers tangled in the gauzy crimson at my thighs, I bunch the skirts, lift them clear of the sidewalk. Stare out and up into the night sky, at the window squares, familiar buildings seen from an unfamiliar angle, yellow taxis in serried ranks. Stoplight, cycling from green to amber to red, the lights much larger and brighter from down here.
I ignore Thomas, ignore your questioning stare, ignore Len’s puzzled eyebrows raised in an arch. I stride away, skirts held around my ankles, heels clicking on the concrete. Freedom. Ripe, thick air in my lungs, noises in my ear.
The heel of my shoe catches in a crack in the sidewalk and I trip, one foot bare on the cold concrete now. I stumble, nearly hit the ground. But a hard body is there, an arm around my waist.
A door, propped open with a wedge, a suddenly familiar blast of scent: cinnamon, wine, and now cigarette smoke, strongly.
I look up, and there he is. “Cinderella. You all right?”
I cannot be this close to him. Cannot.
I turn away, intending to leave my shoe caught in the sidewalk. I have to get away from him before I kiss him. The need to taste his mouth is overwhelming, the need to feel his arms around me all-consuming.
“Your shoe.” He bends, retrieves my shoe, and hands it to me.
I slip it on my foot, and then Thomas is there, a huge hand gripping my upper arm, turning me in place. “It is time to return now, Madame X.”
I see a light in Logan’s eyes as Thomas gives away my name.
I walk beside Thomas back to the car.
Oh, I turn and look back. I must.
Place a foot in the car, a hand on the roof. Stare out over the long roof and sleek hood, watch the stoplight flash to bright green, the cars in a line accelerating. Another crowd of people passes under the awning, but this is an incidental crowd, none speaking to the others.
He is there, watching me intently, blond hair loose and wavy. A hand in his pants pocket, the other lifting a cigarette to his lips, an orange-glowing circle casting his eyes and forehead and sharp high cheekbones into brief illumination—a pause, and a pall of white smoke curling up and away and dissipating.
This is a vignette, seen in a quick glance, and then Thomas presses me gently but firmly down and into the car, the door closes with a softthunk, and then he is out of sight as the Maybach rounds a corner.
I see him still, though, his eyes on me through the veil of smoke, seeing me, searching me, wanting me as much as I want him.
At my door, accompanied by Thomas, Len, and you, and I wish only for a quiet moment alone, a word with you. Instead, Len and Thomas linger in the elevator doorway, blocking it open, making it clear you will not be going inside with me, but away with them.
“Thank you for going with me this evening, Madame X.”
“You are welcome.” I offer you a small, tight, sad smile. “Good-bye, Jonathan. And good luck with your business.”
“You too.” Your fingers move in your right hip pocket. “Wait.”
I pause with my door open. You approach me, take me by the shoulders, turn me around. You stand behind me. I feel you, hear your breathing. Something cold and heavy drapes against my breastbone. I look down, see a huge sapphire. The antique necklace you won in the auction.
“Jonathan—”
