Page 88 of Dancing in the Dark

As Seraphina’s seductive voice plays through my ear, each message growing a little more impatient than the one before, I stride toward City Hall and catch the chatter and shouts of reporters asking their questions. Cameras roll and photographers click-click-click, searching for that money shot.

Arch and I got bogged down by Carson Slater and all the juicy ‘but Dexter did this,’ and ‘Tyler said that’ bullshit he was determined to spew into our laps for the whole damn afternoon, then a ride back to the station, a sit in with Lieutenant Fabian, a twenty-second ‘eat something or die’ break, and then a call to Miss Penny to ensure she’d collected Mia from school—she didn’t, Cato did. Put all that together, and I haven’t managed a single second to look up from my task until now.

Coming to a stop at the back of the media horde and hoping, praying, none of them turn and notice me here, I lock my phone and dip my hands into my pockets, because there she is on the front steps of City Hall, as flawlessly beautiful at nearly six o’clock in the evening as she is at nine in the morning.

She stands alongside the mayor while he reads from a stack of blue palm cards, his voice solemn and respectful as he speaks of a dead woman. Sera’s face is passive. No smile. No frown. She folds her hands together, a small notebook held in front of her body, and three feet to her right, Anderson fucking Markum puffs his chest wide and can’t quite manage what the other two can.

Class. Dignity.

He enjoys being in the limelight, and I’m not sure he’s clever enough to realize smiling isn’t appropriate while the mayor speaks of a twenty-three-year-old daughter. Sister. Friend.

Sera’s eyes clock mine despite the shouts and waving arms between us, and though her expression remains as neutral as always, I catch the subtle shift of her throat. The tightening of her fingers around her notebook.

Lawrence sounds like he’s wrapping up his statement, promising the city and Johanna’s loved ones he’ll do everything in his power to ensure she’s honored in death, so while Markum vibrates with energy and Justin commands a two-hundred-person crowd, I take out my phone again, unlock the screen, and select Sera’s name amongst my text messages.

Me:

Hey. You look really pretty up there. Sorry I didn’t get back to you earlier. I was with the folks at Slater and Datsun.

Sounds like you got what you needed for Lawrence, anyway. Officially, we have no update. Unofficially, I’m pretty sure Carson Slater is our guy. He’s so busy narcing on everyone else, I think he thinks it’ll distract us from what we’re doing.

Mia’s dance recital is on Tuesday. Will you be my plus one?

I hit send and watch eagerly as she discreetly tilts her hand and reads her screen, then I start tapping again. Because being without her for an entire day leaves me with unused energy and a deep-seated need to say all the things.

Me:

Also… It’s not that I’m the kind of guy who’ll manipulate a woman, especially not one as special and beautiful and amazing as you, but my daughter’s getting super nervous about her upcoming dance, and she SPECIFICALLY told me she’d feel better if her Fifi agreed to come over tonight.

She didn’t just say Fifi. She said HER Fifi. So, ya know, I’m not sure you could deny her without becoming the villain in our story.

I glance up again and wait… wait… wait…

She tilts her hand. Reads my messages. Stifles a tiny smirk and sends her gaze to the multistory buildings at my back.

Anything to avoid looking into my eyes.

Chuckling, I tap my screen once more and type out my last message.

Me:

I’m taking that as a yes, so I’m gonna call Moo immediately and tell her the good news. In the meantime, I’ll wait right here for you to finish work. Don’t rush, but… rush a little. It’s been a long ass day, and I’m done sharing you with the world.

Consider packing an overnight bag and staying the night. But, like, in my bed. And before you freak out, you should know it was Mia’s idea. Not mine. You’re worried about confusing her, but the only thing she’s confused about is why you keep leaving again.

“You’re not allowed to send me a barrage of messages while I’m standing with the mayor ever again.” She pushes through the heavy glass door of my apartment building with an expression I’m pretty sure she thinks scares me. “I can’t afford to smile at the wrong moment, Charlie. You could’ve gotten me into trouble.”

“Sorrrry.” Chuckling, I follow her into the air-conditioned entryway and take my last chance to bury my nose against the column of her neck and get a long whiff. I already hear Mia’s squealing laughter inside my apartment. Cato’s booming shouts. Stomping feet. Fuck knows what they’re doing in there, but I already feel how messy they’ve made the place, and I know once we open that door, I won’t get to do this anymore. So I shift the weight of Sera’s overnight bag from my right hand to the left, then I spin her and nudge her back until she collides with the wall. Her breath comes out in a stunned gasp, her eyes flickering with surprise and desire.

Shock and lust.

Following her in and stopping with my leg nestled between her thighs, I lean closer and nibble on her pounding throat. “The more time you give me, the more time I want.” I nip at her collarbone and earn the sound of her racing breath in my ear. “Before, back when you couldn’t stand the sight of me, it hurt me to watch you go. We’d spend days apart. Weeks, when you worked especially hard to stay away. It damn near tore my soul out, but I got through. Now, I go a matter of hours,” I bite the top of her shoulder and thrill in her gasp, “Mere hours, and it feels like someone is pulling my skin off, one torturous strip at a time.”

“I’m not sure that’s a healthy state of existence.” She slips her fingers into my hair and carefully tugs me back. “Wanting to be with someone is okay. Loving another person is beautiful. But giving up so much of your power that you can’t even get through a few hours without feeling like someone is torturing you?” Her willow-green stare flickers down to my lips. “That’s dangerous.”

“It’s a way of life for me.” I drop her bag and palm the sides of her neck. “Being without my daughter is a special kind of torture.” I inch forward and nibble on her lips. “Being without you is the same.”

“Charlie—”