I watch Max converse with another man. He gestures more exaggeratedly than usual, the stereotypical Sicilian mannerisms appearing once more. He mirrors his companion well. I'm sure that comes in handy in his line of work.
I drain another glass of port and decide to dance my neglect away.
I'm not sure how much time passes, but I dance with Flick and Stacey and a lot of other girls and guys. The band is really good. The orchestra last night was from Sydney, so, of course, Aurora probably had this band fly here from halfway across the world.
As I'm dancing to an upbeat song, sweat beading on my skin, a strong hand catches my elbow. "Do I know you?" the man asks.
I spin to a stop and blink up at an older gentleman with dark-brown eyes and a wide, chiselled jaw. "No... I don't think so."
The air around us is charged.
"You're the ballerina," he says, his voice smooth andelegant and with a wisp of an Italian accent. "You were simply stunning."
I shuffle my feet uncomfortably. "Thank you. I'm Jimmy's ballerina." I have no idea why I've just said that, but there is something about this man that makes me uneasy. Something that makes me feel as if I need the weight of Jimmy's name over mine.
"Cassidy, isn’t it?"
I swallow. "Yes."
He watches my throat roll. "Cassidy what?"
My eyes drop to the hand still gripping my elbow. "Slater," I whisper.
His fingers release my arm. "Nice to meet you. I'm Dustin Nerrock."
I fix my jaw. My hands ball into fists, shaking violently on either side of my hips. I have not even thought of his name since that night with my dad and Konnor and yet, as soon as I hear it, it pierces my ears.
"May I have this dance?" he asks.
My face twitches in an attempt to stay calm. "I'm not feeling well."
Without any further explanation, I turn and run off the dance floor, not stopping until I'm across the grass and in the forest. My heart hammers in my chest as tears well up in my eyes. I get to a tree and fumble around in my bag, trying to find my phone to call Konnor. My fingers won't work.
That man...
Sold my brother.
Paid to have him kidnapped.
Finally managing to find my phone, I band it with my fingers and hold it to my chest. Through the trees I can see the marquee lights and hear the music, laughter, and chatter. It didn't occur to me that I might seehimhere.
It doesn’t seem like my dad really knows what happened all those years ago—before I was even born—or was he hiding something from us that night when Konnor had confronted him? There is no doubt he was shaken up by the conversation.
If he's here, then...no. Does Max know what happened? He'd have been a child himself when Konnor had been taken. Is he keeping something from me? I know he doesn't like Konnor, but surely, he wouldn't be able to hide such a secret from me. I would have seen it in his eyes. Betrayal lightly veiled.
God, I just need to talk to him.
"Are you okay?" I hear a voice ask. "You're trembling. I'll go get someone. Who are you with?" As a young blond man slowly approaches, I rub my face, wiping the tears away.
"I'm fine. I'm fine."
He steps to my side, but I stare ahead into the darkness. "You're the ballerina. I'll go get Jimmy for you, if you want?"
I reach for him. "No!"
"Okay." He stops mid-step and looks at me, probably thinking I've lost my mind. That I’ve had too much to drink or am suffering a nervous breakdown. And if I’m being honest, there is probably some truth in such thoughts.
He tilts his head. "Do you want me to leave you alone?"
