Arion growled and spun around, walking away, while Ethan grabbed Winter’s hand and left.
“Fucking piece of shit,” Will said, turning to Alex. “Let’s go.”
I laughed, watching him walk away and thinking his little escort was following. Instead, Alex shook her head and sauntered over to stand at my side.
She crossed her arms, observing the party with me. “It is an art how quickly you can make everyone want to kill you.”
I shrugged, hearing the smile in her voice. “I just can’t help myself.”
I took another drink, kind of wanting to kill myself for a second, too. The shit that came out of my mouth. All for Winter’s sake, because she was my sole motivation in everything I did, and I was kind of fucking ashamed she had that power.
I didn’t have to explain myself to Alex, though. She knew what I was doing. I respected her, because she was no nonsense and made no excuse to do what she needed to do to get what she wanted. The world respected people who didn’t crave approval.
“How’s the job going?” I inquired, glancing down at her.
Her brow shot up, looking dissatisfied. “It’s almost not worth what you’re paying me. That old fuck is agonizingly boring, Damon,” she told me. “And pompous.”
“I know.”
Michael’s father had information I needed, and I doubted he’d care that I put Alex into bed with him to get it. It was for a good cause.
“Are you getting close?”
She pulled a flash drive out of her bodice and held it up to me. “I was able to grab this. But there’s more,” she pointed out. “Gimme a few days.”
I took it, hoping lots of good things were on it. For all our sakes. Her computer science minor was definitely a perk for this job.
“Make it two,” I told her, “and you get a bonus.”
I held up the flash drive, looking at it and pleased that everything was coming together. All the ducks. “Quack, quack,” I mumbled, feeling fucking great all of a sudden.
Someone bumped into me, knocking my shoulder, and the flash drive fell to the ground.
“Oh, excuse me,” a blonde woman dressed in a gray gown said.
She dove down and plucked the flash drive off the floor, and then stood up, raising her hand to give it back to me.
But she froze, meeting my eyes. Her face fell, and she didn’t move except to breathe.
Christiane Fane. Rika’s mother.
And even though she had a full-grown daughter and spent years on pills and alcohol, she was still incredibly beautiful. Her hair was loosely pinned back, strands framing her face, and her skin shimmered in the candlelight. Jewels hung from her ears, and her eyes flaunted several shades of blue that made them look exotic.
I wondered why my father never pursued her after her husband died. My mother had left by then, and Christiane was the wealthiest woman in town. She was gorgeous, still young enough to have more kids, and kind of stupid. I’d never understand how anyone remained that weak their entire lives, but here she was.
Why the fuck was she staring at me?
“Like what you see?” I smarted off, snatching the flash drive from her hand.
Jesus, go away.
She blinked, snapping out of it, and then dropped her head and walked away. Was she drunk or something? I thought Michael got her to kick that shit.
Whatever.
“So you going tell me what you’re doing exactly?” Alex asked once she’d left.
I tucked the drive into my pocket, letting out a deep breath. “Getting my family back. I—”
But I didn’t have a chance to finish. The string quartet stopped playing, and everyone exited the dance floor as I was sure a speech was about to start.
But it was Winter’s voice I heard.
“I have a special gift for Michael and Erika,” she said, and I moved a few steps to the right to get a view of her standing in the middle of the dance floor. “Something I hope they’ll find entertaining. But…” she smiled, looking beautiful with her hair piled on top her head. “I hope the lovely couple doesn’t mind—I’m dedicating this to my sister’s new husband.”
What?
And then she moved her head around the room. “Damon?” she called out, making everyone turn their heads in my direction.
“I worked very hard,” she told me. “I hope you like it. You know how much I love Christmas.”
Christmas? The village she wanted out of the basement when she was in high school sprung to mind, and I remembered that she decorated for the holiday the day after Halloween. Which would be soon.
My eyes didn’t leave her as I took a step closer and placed my glass on a tray as the server passed.
She wouldn’t dance for me. Not willingly anyway.
Finding her mark already placed on the dance floor, she settled into a traditional pose, one foot turned out, the other laying behind her, and her arms positioned down, forming a circle.
She never started like that. She always came in already moving, natural and unsophisticated. That was how she danced. Uncivilized. It was what I loved.
The music started, a slow, jazzy guitar sound, the beats all poised and separate. With each string, she moved. Controlled, routine, and trite, a new pose for every chord. Arm out, toe out. Arms up, feet moving from one elementary position to the next. There was no flow. It was like a warm-up.
But then the lyrics started, a deep and raw voice coming out of the sound system, and she popped up on her toes, stepping one foot in front of the other, her body all of a sudden coming to life and slinking from one move to the other.
And that’s when the song registered. You’re a Mean One, Mr. Grinch.
But it was a cover—some bluesy, rock variation—sexy, slow, and taunting.
I clenched my jaw.
Her shoulders rolled, one after the other, and her hips swayed to the music, her eyes closing and her neck bending like a seduction.
The drums kicked in, building up the song, and she jerked her body with every beat. Then she threw her head back, moved her arms, spun around, and rolled her head, pulling the pin holding her hair up, and it all came spilling down around her as the music let go and the singer’s voice cried out its raw rendition.
“Whoo-hoo!” Shouts went off around the room as people started to lose control, and I balled my fists, watching her.
That wasn’t fucking ballet. She may as well be taking her clothes off.
“Oh, hell yeah,” some guy cheered.
“Shit, that’s hot,” another one chimed in.
Motherfucker.
She twirled and stepped, moving like sex and running her hands all over her body, the muscles of her toned thighs visible through the sheer skirt all the way up to her crotch. The leotard left nothing to the imagination. Her hair whipped around, falling in her face, and her lips parted, making her look hot and breathless. My cock warmed with the rush of blood, and I wanted nothing more than to give her the spanking she damn-well deserved out in the car right now.
God.
“Whoo!”
Michael’s fucking basketball player buddies were going wild, and the song choice was not lost on me at all.
You’re a Mean One, Mr. Grinch.
A Christmas song, indeed. And dedicated to me with its nasty lyrics meant to describe me, too.
Clever.
I shot my eyes over to Michael and Kai standing next to each other, both of them laughing and sharing words, enjoying this too much. Michael looked up at me, grinning like he won something, and Kai followed his gaze, laughing again. Winter publicly slighted me, and everyone was loving it.
She continued dancing, working every inch of the song and feeding off the crowd, and I buttoned my jacket, using every ounce of control to not lose my cool here.
Someone appeared, and I shifted my gaze away from the dance floor as Michael approached.
“You know what?” he said, laughing and patting me on both arms. “I’m feeling generous tonight. Forget what I said. You can stay as long as you like. Eat, drink…” He tossed a glance behind him to the dance floor and then turned back to me. “Because it looks like you have your hands full enough at home. Ouch.”