Page 112 of Facing Off
“No,” I mumble reluctantly. “It doesn’t feel calculated like that…”
“Okay. Explain to me again how he’s acting around you.”
He only holds me when I have my first panic attack, whisks me away to an activity tailored to my personality, offers me a team of experts for diagnosing yips…to start naming a few things.
I wrinkle my nose and roll my eyes. “He gets under my skin. Pretends to be my husband, calling meMrs. Hugheseven though I hate it. Andbabysometimes. If not that, always,Sonya darling.”
I can tell Kavi has loads to say about that. Her eyes are practically sparkling.
Before she can open her mouth, I argue, “But who cares about him!I’mnot interested. I can’t—Idon’thave time forthat.”
Kavi grins at me. “For what? Sex or a relationship?”
My head spins, remembering Hughes saying, “You’re such a good girl staying in my lap, baby.”
I can barely utter my denial to Kavi properly. “Neither.”
She points down to where I’m strangling the waistband of some jeans.
I drop them.
She smiles to herself as she digs through my pile of clothes and pulls out a dress. “Okay, if you don’t want sexora relationship, why did you pack a dress like this one?”
It’s busty, low-cut, and made of both latex and leather. So violently black, luxe, and shiny—three things that typically don’t go together, but do in this dress. When I wear it, I become a sexy creature of the night. Approach me and you’ll either get the best night of your life with me or unknowingly have the life force sucked out of you.
It’s the kind of dress that makes jaws drop.
I stumble back a step, flushing. “It’s—because—no reason!”
Kavi tosses me the dress. “Wear it tonight. It will literally kill him.”
I scowl. “W-What? I don’t care what kills Adr—Hughes.”
“Who said I was talking about Adrian? Remember your doppelgänger is going to be there. The sexy Finnish player, Mikael Saros.”
“Yeah, he’s more my type,” I blurt out, pretending like I’ve given Saros a passing moment of time in my brain.
Kavi laughs, a twinkling glint in her eyes. “Okay, prove it. Dance with him tonight.”
43
SONYA
The party’sat a warehouse where the main pit has been gutted and converted to a massive, moodily lit dance floor. Suspended above that are interconnected VIP booths sectioned off by private stairs. Anyone lucky enough to get invited to the second floor has their own waitstaff on call, can order all kinds of speciality drinks, and look down over the railing to watch hot athletes finally letting loose. Bodies that have spent a lifetime training to be in peak condition for their sport are drinking, dancing, and singing along to pop music’s greatest hits.
It’s a night like in the movies where they tell youanythingcan happen.
A gets-you-in-trouble-and-you-like-it party.
How we’ll find Jung here, I don’t know. It’s crowded and loud in here.
Kavi’s gone to meet the guys in their VIP booth on the second floor to see if they’ve had any luck. She offered to wait downstairs with me, but I told her I needed a quick minute to myself. I promised I’d join her right after.
First, I’m grabbing some water by the bar. Whiledrinking it, I turn down a group of guys asking me to dance.
“I’m not here to dance,” I tell them.
With you,this random voice adds in my head.
