“Oh, Alex. There you are. Have you met Lukas?”
“Yes,” I manage to say, shaking his hand as he offers it.
“Yes?” he echoes, with a note of amusement. “I’m sure I’d have remembered.”
“I mean I saw you the other night.” I make thecorrection, giving myself a firm mental kick. I can’t afford distractions right now. Where’s the cold composure that’s my go-to state?
It’s buried beneath the image of his hands on my fiancée’s waist.
“Ah,” he says, nodding. “Yes, I heard you were joining us.” He gives me an appraising look. “No doubt you’ll be a valuable asset.”
The words are there, but the tone is hollow. I don’t much care. I should, but I don’t.
My attention is on Vicky. “I think it’s time to go home.”
“Already?” she asks.
“Yes, already?” Van Wyk echoes, like it’s any of his fucking business.
“I’m afraid so.” My fingers close around her slender upper arm, and her eyes flash with something of her usual stubbornness. For a moment, I think she’s going to fight me.
Then to my relief, she acquiesces, rather than make a scene. “Of course, if you think that’s best.” She looks to Van Wyk. “So nice to meet you, and your lovely wife. Do be sure to say goodbye for me? And I’ll reach out to her.”
“Your clutch,” Van Wyk says. “Allow me.” He disappears through the crowd in the original direction they were heading.
“Alex, you’re hurting me,” Vicky mutters, and I ease up my grip on her arm. “What the hell is the matter with you?”
“We’re going home.”
“I can get home by myself, thank you.”
“You’re coming home with me.”
Her chin lifts, her eyes steady, and I know this look.
“I mean I’ll see you home,” I amend hastily, before she argues with me. Van Wyk is returning, and the crowd peels back like he’s a live wire.
“Oh, very well,” Vicky agrees with bad grace. “But you can at least release my arm.”
I don’t release it because I’m concerned there’ll be fingermarks if I do, but I make a conscious effort to ease up.
Van Wyk hands Vicky her clutch, gives me a long look, then bows over my fiancée’s hand and brushes her knuckles with his lips. “My pleasure. Perhaps another dance, next time we meet?”
“I’d be delighted,” Vicky replies.
“Nice to meet you,” I mutter, then lead her across the floor before the music starts again. It’s the quickest way to the door.
“Alex,” she hisses. “Your damngrip.”
I’ve tightened up again. It takes more effort than I’d expect to persuade my fingers to relax.
Then we’re out of the great hall and into the foyer. With one look at my expression, it doesn’t take them long to bring our coats. When I release my hold, Vicky has red marks on her arm. But the coat hides it quickly.
I put my own on, then take her outside, my hand in the small of her back. “We’ll get a cab,” I say, as they have some waiting. That’s a good sign; perhapswe’re not the first to leave after all.
The night’s turned into an unmitigated disaster, but I’m still struggling to care. Perhaps I will, come tomorrow, but tonight I have other plans.
I open the door for Vicky, climb in beside her, and give the cabbie the address of my Manhattan apartment.
