Page 18 of Deadly Sights

I bury my face in my free hand, unable to believe I said that out loud. I do too many uncharacteristic things around Julian without a satisfactory explanation. Refusing to prolong our argument, I turn my attention to my mark sitting in the front row.

He is an attractive older man with salt and pepper sprinkled through his hair and beard. He beams at his son who repeats his vows with a puffed chest to the supermodel beside him. Is he posturing because he convinced a gorgeous woman to be hiswife or has he truly fallen for her? In families like these, it’s more than likely the love is superficial. Soon, they’ll face the first test of their devotion.

Once the newly wedded couple exit to take their photos, we head to the second ballroom that opens onto a garden in a similar style to the Alhambra. Columns of shrubs line the door of a courtyard, leading further into the garden and beckoning the guests outside. An explosion of green, pinks, purples, blues, and yellows feeds the eyes. A makeshift dance floor of plexiglass covers the long water feature in the center of the garden, giving guests the choice to dance in the cool building or outside surrounded by a piece of paradise.

Along the sides of the courtyard, elaborate, tiered centerpieces adorn tables sitting under silk canopies to protect guests from the sun. Julian has yet to free my hand. I glance at our interlaced fingers and acknowledge, at least to myself, how good it feels to touch him.

When we get the table with the place cards, I select the one with my alias while Julian selects the name of a person designated to sit beside me. I eye him, wondering how he’ll keep a low profile when the real person shows up to take his seat.

The bride and groom enter grinning and blushing with excitement. Throughout the toasts, Julian keeps an arm around my shoulders to share his take on the various tributes. To the lasting regret of the guests and groom, the best man delivers a toast full of cringe takes.

“I bet the best man will breathe easy once the father of the groom steals the show since he won’t go down as the worst thing that happened.” Julian nuzzles beneath my ear.

It takes everything in me not to outwardly react, but my pulse thunders, and my body warms. The memory of being locked in his arms in London hasn’t faded and with Julian so close to the places he sucked and licked, I struggle to maintain a cool facade.

While I battle myself for calm, the emcee announces the first dance

“Do you know how distractingly delicious you smell?” He destroys my hard work by sucking on my lobe.

My eyes nearly close and a moan almost slips out. I gasp and lurch from my seat. To hide my awkward reaction, I head toward the crowd gathering at the open bar where the wedding guests stop to congratulate the groom’s father.

I enter the crowd, my focus on my target. While they offer cover, congratulating him with many women adding a request for a dance, I discreetly don the lilac gloves matching my dress. I choose to put them on now to administer the deadly toxin because any earlier would put myself and others at risk.

When I arrive in front of the groom’s father, I say, “You must be so proud to welcome your new daughter into the family.” I grasp his bare hands and hold for three seconds, allowing the warmth from his body heat to aid in the toxin’s absorption.

“Yes, she is a perfect match for my son. We’ve already gifted them a home close to ours.”

“That sounds amazing. Especially if they plan to start their family immediately. You’ll always be close to your grandchildren.”

He winks with a knowing smile. “You sound like my wife. She suggested the purchase. I don’t mind saying the previous owners put up a fight, but we eventually persuaded them. The property was too good and we didn’t love the couple. Now, we’ll have neighbors we approve.”

I release his hands and walk away to dispose my gloves before touching anyone else. As I head toward my designated table, a familiar tingling on my neck precedes the arm wrapping around my waist.

“Try this.” Julian pops a petit four into my mouth.

I moan as chocolate melts on my tongue.

He closes the distance to whisper in my ear. “How long before the fireworks start?”

“Thirty minutes. By then he will have forgotten me among the long line of well-wishers not to mention his slew of dance partners.”

As I finish speaking, the father of the groom enters the dance floor and steals a partner from a younger man, leaving him empty-handed and looking longingly at the woman in the older man’s arms.

“That gives me time, then.” Julian leads me to the dance floor and pulls me close for the slow song the emcee selects.

He leaves no distance between us. My breasts tingle as they rub against him, but fighting to separate will draw people’s focus on us.

“Support staff doesn’t dance,” I say with a forced smile.

“No, but people on dates do.” He expertly spins me before catching me in his arms.

“If this is a date, we should get to know each other, but you know everything about me already. That seems pretty uneven.”

“I know a past version of you. I’m interested to know who you’ve become and will soak up knowledge whichever way I get it.” He dips me, keeping me suspended in an infinite of seconds where I can make out the golden flecks in his eyes and the banked passion he has yet to release.

I clear my throat when he lets me up. “Then how about we trade? For every tidbit I share about myself today, you tell me about the version of me you know?”

Regret brackets his mouth and dims the light in eyes that have come to mean more to me than I want to admit.

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