Page 166 of Lethal Torture
What I don’t know is just how far she intends to take the dance.
The curtain slowly rises.
A wide set of stairs ascends from the stage, which has been made to look like a still lake. As the curtain lifts, so does a large crescent moon, slowly appearing over the top of the stairs to shine on the fake water below.
Cradled in the moon’s gleaming curve is Zin.
Even with a midnight-blue-and-silver mask molded around her face, leaving only the scarlet slash of her mouth exposed, she’s unmistakable.
At least, she is to me. But then I’ve been studying her every movement for months now.
One stilettoed foot is propped on the edge of the moon, exposing a seductive length of perfectly toned thigh. She’s arched backward against the moon’s curve, breasts thrustupward, head flung back so the elaborate construction of feathers, diamantés, and blonde curls touches the crescent on which she sits. Her other leg hangs down out of sight, but as the moon rises even further, the tip of the other stiletto comes into view.
Zin draws a fan up slowly as she comes into full view, then turns her head and peeks over the top of it.
Her eyes bore straight into mine, as if she knows exactly where I am. As if she’s dancing just for me.
And just like that,all thoughts of Lowbridge, Stewart, and attempted assassinations are wiped completely from my mind.
Zinaida is all there is—and all I fucking care about.
I stare at her rising seductively onto that stage, holding an entire theater captive in the palm of one elegant hand, and know something for absolute certain for the first time in my life:
Zinaida Melikov is the only future I want.
38
ZINAIDA
I knowLuke is watching me.
I saw him briefly with Mak. Saw the grim tension in his face as they talked, the way his eyes never stopped scanning the room. I almost laughed aloud when his masked figure walked back up to the fishbowl office.
There isn’t a mask in existence that could disguise Luke’s massive form.
Then I saw Mak lead Agatha from the booth with Simon, and got Luke’s comms that it was done.
And for a terrible moment, I thought perhaps Luke might simply leave before I even got up on stage.
It scares me how crushing that thought was.
Not to mention how alone it made me feel. I don’t want to be up on stage without him in the room. Whether I want to admit it or not, I feel safe when Luke is close.
But as the curtain rises, there’s no mistaking his silent bulk, dimly lit by the screens in my office, immovable as ever, his arms folded and eyes locked on me. He might be no more than anindistinct shadow, but I can feel his eyes like they’re hands on my skin.
Tonight was meant to be the kind of crazy that would make Luke realize he is in over his head.
A performance so dark and disturbing he would see exactly what I truly am.
But somewhere between deciding to dance tonight and the moment when the curtain rises, I’ve gone from weaving a trap to being caught in it.
First it was the secret pleasure I took in having Lily design the most exquisite costume I’ve ever worn. Then it was the late nights in my apartment, mentally choreographing every step of my dance. Planning the perfect music and designing a dream set. All of it felt increasingly like casting an elaborate enchantment.
It’s only as the curtain comes up and I see Luke’s huge figure silently watching me that I realize the spell has backfired.
I’m not trying to drive Luke away.
I’m trying to seduce him.
