I slip my phone into my tote bag just as Stellan reaches me. He’s riding high on the applause, his cheeks still pink, his smile still brilliant.
“What did you think of my speech?” he asks. His Danish accent is more pronounced just now, I suppose from speaking his mother tongue only moments ago.
I lick my lips, darting my eyes away from his face. “I think I still need to learn Danish.”
He shakes his head at me, repressing an eye roll.Behind him, a five piece quartet starts playing jazz standards. “Want to see something cool?”
Clearing my throat, I manage a smile. “Always.”
Stellan makes a pleased sound deep in his throat, almost a growl, but lacking the heat of anger. He grabs my elbow and starts towing me out of the ballroom. “Come. You’re going to like this.”
I bite my lower lip. “Am I going to be able to take notes?”
He pulls me out into the darkened marble hallway, shaking his head just a little. “I would rather you didn’t. I’m celebrating tonight. You should be too.”
I give a huffed laugh. “What are you celebrating, exactly?”
He shrugs. “What does it matter?”
My lips curve up. “Touché.”
He guides me to the grand elevators, pressing the button to call it to our floor. I cock my head, looking at our reflection in the elevator doors. Stellan is so big and tall, so darkly handsome. I am so petite next to him; with my bubble gum pink hair and my white ball gown, I look as though I am made of marzipan candy.
What would he be, if we were both made of sugar? Perhaps some bitter black licorice, or some sort of molasses drops. Not the kind of candy most people would want to gorge themselves on, anyway…
I hear raised voices and turn my head. Stellan does too. Down the hall, Annika comes rushing out of some darkened room, her expression stormy. She says something cutting in Danish, holding her purple ball gown skirts up.
What is she running from?
My question is answered only a second later when Erik steps out into the hallway, reaching out and catching her bythe arm. He spins her around to face him as if she weighs nothing.
She looks mad enough to spit at him. He leans his dirty blond head close to her ear. His words are too low to make out; from this distance, I only get the low grate of his voice.
“Erik!” Stellan shouts.
As one, Erik and Annika freeze, then turn to look at us. Annika steps away, wresting her arm from Erik’s grip. Erik clears his throat and then calls down to us.
“We were just having a disagreement about…” He pauses. “Suitable choices.”
Annika leans over and pushes his shoulder hard. “And I was telling him that he can’t tell me what to do!”
She screws up her face and stalks away from all of us, vanishing around a corner. I see a look of concern slide between Stellan and Erik.
“Er alt i orden?” Stellan asks.
Erik shrugs. “Ja. Vær ikke urolig.”
Before I can ask Stellan to translate, Erik takes off down the hall after Annika. I watch Stellan’s face and catch a suspicious look rippling across it, but in the next second he turns back toward the elevators. He presses the button again, impatient.
“What was that all about?” I ask. The elevator doors slide open and we step inside.
He presses the button for the top floor and shakes his head. “I have no idea. My sister has always been dramatic. Erik has always been… I don’t know, whatever the opposite of that is.”
The doors close. Stellan runs his hand through his hair, using his reflection in the elevator doors to groom himself. I fidget nervously, wondering where we are going.
As the elevator car rises, I look at Stellan. “What arewe gathered here for? Tonight, I mean. All the fancy people downstairs in the ballroom.”
He swings his gaze to me. “Is it going to end up in your article?”
