Page 9 of Little Death
“Whatever I like?” he croons and backs off enough that I’m able to turn around in his arms. Strains of music from the party fill the momentary silence. He’s close, far, far too close. But the only way to get by him would involve rubbing my body against his, and I don’t plan on giving him the satisfaction. “We need to go back down to my guests. I have an alibi to establish. What better way to do that than with a beautiful woman at my side?”
A sick, greasy feeling rolls through my stomach. “You’re disgusting.”
His smile is a predatory carving on his beautiful face. “A fact I’ll prove to you before the night is over. You should have thought of that before you gambled with me.”
I knew he’d accept my offer. I just never thought I’d lose. Stupid. Playing games with men like Aiden is foolish, and I know better. “Couldn’t you just kill me and save yourself the trouble?”
“Do you think they’d believe you? How are you going to prove what you saw when there won’t even be a body?”
“Then why would you need an alibi?”
“I like to cover all my bases.” He tries to brush the hair away from my face, and I jerk away. Hetsks, then says, “We’ll need to work on this. Like the pretty pet you are, you need rules.” When my only answer is a glare, he smiles. “Improving already.”
“Just tell me the rules so we can get this over with.”
“You’re to stay by my side at all times. No wandering off and getting yourself into more trouble.”
“I won’t?—”
“Like you’ve already done once tonight,” he adds with a pointed look.
“Fine.”
“No excessive drinking.”
“Whatever you say.” The champagne I had earlier is already giving me a headache. When I make it through tonight, I’m going to spend the rest of my life devoting myself to being boring. Focus on finishing law school. A veritable saint.
“And no talking to anyone but me.”
“What the hell do you even want me around for if I’m supposed to be a statue by your side all night?”
He brings his thumb to my jaw for the second time and finally gives me the answer I demand. “Because I want to ensure you understand what will happen if you say one word about what you saw tonight or ever try to set foot near this place again.”
Fear clenches my gut like a fist. “You said you weren’t going to hurt me,” I whisper.
“Oh, pet, by the time I’m done with you, you’re going to wish I’d hurt you.”
His featherlight touch dances around the shell of my ear. It takes every ounce of self-control I possess to keep from recoiling. It’s too soft, a whisper of sensation. Barely anything at all. And I already know he’s capable of far, far worse, but it’s so gentle, it reminds me of how sweet a man can be. How attentive. How easy it could be to believe he wouldn’t hurt me.
Shoving at his arm, I try to put some distance between us, but his hand comes back, lightning fast, and he’s pressed so close against me, I can feel each of his breaths. His hand clamps on my jaw, immovable when it had been featherlight only seconds ago.
“Last rule. You let me touch you when I want to, however I want to. Do you understand?”
“That you’re an asshole? Yeah, I think I got that.”
“If you break any of my rules, what happened to that cop is going to be the least of your worries.”
I have no doubt about that, so I zip my lips and promise him with murder in my eyes that there’ll be retribution. It only makes him grin, and I have to wonder how the hell I got myself in this situation. Aiden gestures for me to go first, and I stride to the door like I didn’t just make a deal with the devil.
The party is going full swing downstairs, completely unaware of the monster haunting my footsteps. Champagne and finger food flow freely, carted by smiling faces under black masks. Witchery is in the air, the kind only a New Orleans night can conjure. Money exchanges hands without a second thought among the craps and blackjack tables, punctuated by the drunken cheers of partygoers who’ve had more than their fair share by this point. We maneuver through the crowd until we find an empty table.
I drink in the sights as one well-wisher after another assails Aiden. If they know about my mother or what happened to her in this house, no one says anything. Do they even care? Aiden places a glass of water in front of me. Seizing it, I gulp down its contents, eager for the distraction, and let my thoughts drift to memories of the last time I was in this garden. It had been for my mother’s 45th birthday party a few weeks before her death. Afterward, my father surprised her with a trip to South America as a present and let my sister and me go with her. It wasn’t like him to be so generous, especially not with election season approaching. I was surprised by his generosity, but grateful for the time we spent together. For the first time, Elizabeth and I got to spend time with our mother without his career interfering. Little did we know it would be one of the last times we’d see her. She didn’t make it to another birthday.
By the time I come back to myself, Aiden’s engrossed in conversation with men I recognize vaguely from somewhere. He’s arranged me at his side and slightly in a corner, where I’m mostly obscured from view of the party. He keeps me in place with one arm around my waist, loosely holding my hip, his fingers twisting into the fabric of my skirt. I shift on my feet, draining my glass of water dry so I keep from slapping his hand away.
“… let me into your little club, eh, O’Connor? How much will it cost me?”
“More than you can afford, Crawley,” jeers another of the men at the table. The man, I think his name or his last name must be Hudson, because he’d practically stuck his hand in Aiden’s face and said Hudson like it was supposed to mean something. Such a pretentious fucking name. Fits him perfectly.
