‘Yeah,’ Mallory said, unsure where Samantha was going with this.
‘You seem to have excellent insights into people and their motivations. You understand emotions and secret desires.’
‘I’m not infallible,’ Mallory said slowly.
‘I’m aware of that. And you’re particularly … fallible when it comes to yourself.’
Mallory stilled. ‘What do you mean?’
Samantha appeared to be searching for the right words. ‘You can decipher thoughts and feelings and understand people – but not yourself.’ She held up her hands. ‘I’m not criticising. Please don’t think that. I wish I was more like you.’ She sighed. ‘But if I could offer some unsolicited advice…’
Twitching warily, Mallory said, ‘Go on.’
‘Maybe you should apply some of those skills to someone a bit closer to home,’ Samantha said gently. ‘That’s all.’
Mallory stared at her. So it was obvious then: everyone knew that she had a massive, painful and wholly inappropriate crush on Alexander. Her cheeks flushed. ‘Uh-huh.’
Samantha nodded, apparently relieved to have said what was on her mind. ‘I’ll see you out there?’
‘Sure,’ Mallory answered brightly.
‘Great!’
As soon as Samantha had gone, her shoulders slumped. She’d likely never get any werewolf clients ever again after this, and deservedly so. Then she wondered if Alexander had asked Samantha to talk to her. Maybe he wanted to make it clear that he would never think of her as anything other than a slightly odd, wholly unmagical, temporary employee. Fuck.
She splashed more water on her face and straightened up. ‘Man or mouse?’ she asked herself. ‘You’ve still got a damned job to do, Mallory. Get out there and fucking do it properly.’
She lifted her chin and returned to the ballroom as if nothing were wrong with the world whatsoever.
Only Sean Jones and Colin Brady remained at the table, deep in conversation. Mallory paused, her hand on her chair, and glanced around; it didn’t take long to spot Alexander and Isadora on the dance floor. Good. Fantastic. Absolutely wonderful. Everything would work out. She watched them, Alexander’s arm around Isadora’s waist, her head back as she laughed. They were enjoying themselves.
‘Perfect,’ she whispered, then reached for her glass of wine and downed it in one without tasting it.
‘Feeling thirsty, Miss Nash?’
She looked up and her eyes met those of Liam Ferguson’s. ‘Parched.’
‘I don’t blame you. The Wolf Ball is hard work, especially on the uninitiated. Perhaps I can ease the pressure and ask you to dance?’
Mallory’s immediate instinct was to decline: she wasn’t here to dance or party, and she ought to focus her attention on Alexander. But standing here and staring at her client dancing with another woman while her own body screamed with jealousy wasn’t very healthy. What the hell. Liam was a sweet guy and dancing with someone might be the distraction she needed to drag her libido back into line. ‘Okay.’ She nodded. ‘Okay.’
Liam wasn’t quite as accomplished a dancer as Alexander and she stepped on his foot almost as soon as they started. ‘Shit. Sorry.’
‘My toes can take the bruising. It’s fine.’ He twirled her around.
‘How did things go the other night on Hirsel Street?’ she asked.
He grinned cheekily. ‘Fabulous. It was a very, very good night.’
‘Good for you.’
‘I might even meet her next week for a second round.’
‘You say that as if it’s a rare occurrence, Liam.’
‘I’m a long way off settling down,’ he told her. ‘Unlike your date over there.’
Mallory swallowed. ‘He’s not my date.’
