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“Daring as ever, Amelie,” Navarro says. His eyes hover around my hair and slowly trail down to glance at my neck. A pleasantly warm sensation spreads across my chest. It feels good to see him. Butterflies are multiplying in my stomach. My eyes can’t help but soften as I gaze at him.
He’s wearing a sleek, black tuxedo. The wool looks so soft; I want to run my fingers across his lapel. His dark hair is neatly pomaded. Unlike Dad, he seems comfortable in a tux. Then again, he’s comfortable in everything he wears.
Awe etches itself across his handsome features.
I tuck a strand of hair behind my ear. “You sound surprised, Coach.”
“Well, no… Yes.”
“What’s it to be? Yes or no? You can’t have both.”
His laugh makes my heart spin in happiness. I could listen to that velvety sound for ages. The music has disappeared along with the polite, forced conversation. We’re frozen in this specific moment. Nothing else matters.
“Very true,” Navarro smiles. “How about a dance?”
“Uh…” He’s asking me to dance? I have to set my champagne flute to one side.
“Only if you want to, of course,” his hand stretches out towards me. “And I hope you do.”
The last words are said in a cheeky murmur. I hesitate for a moment before accepting. There’s an irresistible challenge in his eyes. “Sure. I’d love to.”
His fingers wrap around my hand. His hand is as comforting as a glove. It’s almost like he was tailor-made for me…
I can’t help admiring the gentle curves of that part of his anatomy…
Oh god. I’m just imagining him transporting me into a world of touch. I’d like to press my lips against them. Cover his skin with my kisses.
His thumb lazily strokes my palm. Our eyes drift back from our interlinked hands to stare at each other. Navarro’s lips part. His eyes sparkle with contagious… excitement.
“Armand! I’ve been looking for your everywhere, darling.”
Her voice shatters the moment. I inwardly curse. My hand separate from his and resides by my side again.
She wraps her arm around his back.
Armand inhales. “I hadn’t noticed, Therese.”
Therese Weber is dressed in a backless ice-blue Balenciaga dress. The light bounces off the flawless silk material. A dainty white flower is playfully threaded in her dark brown chignon.
“Have we met before?” she peers at my face.
Yeah, b!tch. We have but I doubt you’d care to remember.
“Nope,” I say quickly as Armand is opening his mouth to say something. He raises his eyebrows at me, before nodding his head slightly.
“Oh,” Therese says. “I could have sworn—Your face looks familiar. My mistake. Gorgeous dress,” she rests her palm against my waist, feeling the fabric. Her brown eyes widen with admiration.
“Thanks,” I force a tight smile. Oh. So she thinks I’m someone just because I’m wearing a nice dress. How shallow can you be?
“That velvet is beautiful,” she smiles warmly at me. “Don’t you think, Armand?”
Amused, he takes a sip of his champagne and, almost exaggeratedly, studies the dress. After a time, his eyes travel up to my face. “Beautiful indeed,” he says simply.
There’s a double meaning in his words — I don’t fail to miss it.
A smile spreads across my face. He winks at me. Therese is ooh-ing and ah-ing over my dress, so thankfully she doesn't notice…
Her head snaps up to look at him. Looks like I spoke too soon…
She gives him a little moue of disapproval. “I told him he can’t be his usual brooding self. He can be quite charming when he puts his mind to it. No wonder his dad despairs of him—”
“Therese—” He warns.
“I totally agree with his father that networking makes you more successful—” she’s got into her flow.
Navarro grips her elbow. “Dance with me.”
She raises her eyebrows in surprise and gives me a brief apologetic smile. With a sinking heart, I watch as the couple head off in the direction of the dance floor. I hear her irritating tinkle of a laugh travel across the room as she listens to him. She runs her hand along his arm as he leans in to say something to her.
I drag my eyes away from them and sigh. Dad and Mr Zeepler are heading in my direction. He’s chuckling as the banker’s telling a choice anecdote. Mr Zeepler doesn’t smile when he sees me. He doesn’t seem to have much of a reaction to my presence, which suits me just fine.
I swirl the champagne in my glass and concentrate on blocking out their jarring voices. Apparently, Mrs Zeepler couldn’t make it this evening. She was feeling unwell. That’s a shame — she was one of the people who organised this charity bash. Mr Zeepler says that he feels the odd one out…
Most of the women in the room would only be too willing to cheer him up.
“Shall we dance, Amelie?” His silky voice breaks me out of my thoughts. I look up at him properly. Mr Zeepler’s all dapper in his formal wear. Not really much of a surprise. He probably wears tuxedos instead of pyjamas to bed…
“No,” I go back to staring into my glass.
“It’s the neighbourly thing to do,” Dad says. “Have fun. Enjoy being young!”
I frown up at him. “I’m a sh!t dancer, Dad.”
“No you’re not,” he puffs out his chest. “Stop swearing. I’m so sorry, Erik. Kids these days—”
Now he’s started the old man on one of his rants. There’s no escape for me.
Slyly, Mr Zeepler looks from me to Dad. A calculating smile spreads across his face. “It’s a phase, I’m sure. Amelie’s a lively girl. She’ll grow out of it, Gilles.”
“I certainly hope so…” Dad turns to me and squeezes my arm. He whispers in my ear. “Don’t try to embarrass me any further…”
I roll my eyes.
“Don’t just mooch around, Amelie,” he says. There’s a forced smile on his face. He nudges me towards Mr Zeepler. Mr Zeepler gives me a nonchalant smirk as I reluctantly surrender my hand to him.
We head over to the dance floor. The band is currently playing “Something Stupid”. Too right — Golden Erik fits with this tune.
We’re not quite dancing cheek to cheek but Mr Zeepler makes sure we’re close enough…
We’re dancing the foxtrot. I’m a little rusty but he doesn’t seem too bothered. The subtle rise and fall of the dance makes my head spin. It’s like I’m on a carousal ride with the devil…
I’m half-surprised he doesn’t try to grope me up on the dance floor, but he remains ever the self-congratulatory “gentleman”. He’s quite a good dancer actually. Very smooth and fluid. Nimble on his feet.
Dad watches me like a hawk, a proud expression on his face. Then I lose sight of him as he drifts off somewhere in the room.
Mr Zeepler talks all things related to investment banking. Apparently, he’s planning on switching firms…
Such scintillating conversation, Golden Erik. You really know how to impress a girl.
My eyes wonder around the hotel ballroom and I bite my lip when I see them. She smiles lovingly at him; her big brown eyes are full of mischief. Shortly after, Therese Weber rests her head on Navarro’s shoulder. I want to be her…
Jealously licks its way through my insides. I want to look away but I can’t.
It surprises me when Navarro meets my miserable gaze. An inscrutable expression lingers on his face. His lips push into a thin line when he sees my dance partner.
The music ends. Before Mr Zeepler has a chance to trap me into the next dance, I stride away from him. A sea of misery swallows me whole.
“Thank you, Amelie. I enjoyed that,” I catch his words. He sounds slightly bemused.
I bet you did.
A/N: Please VOTE, COMMENT and SHARE! Thank you. The end is nigh. :D