Returning to the ballroom, the overwhelming scents and sounds assault me again, and I wonder if people had powder breaks that somehow included an extra layer of perfume or cologne. Or maybe there's a room somewhere they can take a bath in.
I can only think about it for a second before all thoughts cease.
Coming to a sudden stop on the edge of the dance floor, Cormac uses my hand on his elbow to twist me until we're face to face. His warm hand lands on my lower back, just above where might be considered indecent.
Smoother than the wine I've been supplied with all night, he takes my hand in his other one, cradling it in his large palm.
My free arm shakily lifts, landing on his shoulder, draping lightly over it.
He doesn't make an effort to move us across the floor or follow any specific steps, but every motion is meticulous yet fluid, gently swaying and spinning to the slow cadence echoing off the walls.
"Tell me something, Brigit," he says when we've found a steady rhythm.
I keep my eyes locked over his shoulder, watching other dances and trying not to get too lost in my own. "What?"
I feel his shoulder shrug beneath my hand, "Anything. Just tell me something."
"Umm," I hum in thought. "I think I've had too much of the wine."
That's the only explanation for the dizzy, heady warmth building in my stomach.
He laughs, warm and decadent, "Well, I'm sure as long as you don't try to go swimming in the fountain, you'll be fine."
My jaw drops, "Who would do that?"
His voice lowers, "Skyler."
"You're kidding," I finally look at him, finding his eyes already on me.
'"I'm not," he smiles, "Had to drag his ass out and throw him in a cab 20 minutes ago. My socks are fucking soaked."
Now I can't stifle the giggle that spills out of me. My head falls back with the force of the laugh, the drinks getting to me and making everything just a little bit funnier, makingmejust a little bit more willing to indulge in fun.
When I right myself, Mr. Fomori's eyes are locked on mine, as if he were just waiting for me to come back to his gaze.
"Now you tell me something," I nudge him with my dangling hand.
He purses his lips like he's thinking really hard about it. "I wish I knew how to make you laugh again."
I think, for a second, my heart stops beating, "Why?"
"Your laugh is adorable," he offers the compliment freely, leaving me speechless, so used to fighting for every bit of approval that I don't know what to do with any I didn't earn. "You get these little scrunches down the bridge of your nose."
"My bunny lines?" I can't stop the instinct to cover them, taking my hand from his to hide my nose.
He just looks at me with wonder, letting his other hand fall to my waist. If I didn't know any better, I might even think he used it to pull me closer, "Is that what they're called?"
I nod, "Yeah, I was just looking into getting themfixed."
"Don't you dare," he laughs. Gently tugging my hand away from my face, he tucks it into his, resting them both against his shoulder. "Theydomake you look like a little bunny. So fucking cute."
He must see the nerves on my face, so he rapidly changes the subject, "What do you do, Brigit?"
"I'm a lawyer."
He stutter steps, coughing out an uncomfortable laugh before covering it up, "Yeah? What kind of law?"
"Nothing exciting," I explain, keeping it surface level that most people will understand. "Business law, most of the time it's exposing fraud or money laundering."
