Unspoken

~ Chapter Three ~

I woke up with a dry throat what seemed like only minutes later. I was laying in a large and comfortable bed with white sheets and gold blankets. A dozen white and fluffy decorative pillows were scattered around me.
An electronic alarm clock on the nearby nightstand told me that it was 4:30 in the morning, and the outside light confirmed it.
Large windows lined the outer wall, giving me a lovely view of the colorfully illuminated city. I could see the massive blue lake and a large Ferris wheel near the far docks, tucked behind various skyscrapers. This room was very high up, and I could see the tops of many tall buildings below us in the darkness.
I slipped out of the bed, my bare feet padding on the smooth wooden floor. The bedroom was open to the rest of the luxurious compartment, which I assumed was a hotel room. A platform of three steps led up to it from a living room below. I moved down the steps in the dark, gripping the simple railing.
There was a coffee table, two chairs, and a couch facing the window with a large TV on a stand against the windows. Across the room, another platform rose up to the dining room and kitchen.
The walls were papered white with a golden fleur de lis pattern. Moonlight shone on the floor, which was made of black wooden planks.
Mr. Ivanov was sitting in the nearest chair, his back to me. He was looking at a picture. I could only see the upper corner from over his shoulder as I approached.
"Are you unable to sleep?" I asked. He tucked the photo into his wallet and stood, turning to face me. His eyes were wet, and he looked like a devastated angel as the moonlight enveloped him.
I stepped forward, reaching up to touch the tear that spilled over and fell down his cheek. He was completely unguarded, and almost shaking. His mouth was set in a slight grimace.
"Why," I paused, instinctively embracing him. "Why are you crying?"
I felt bewildered, seeing him like this. He seemed so vulnerable and breakable right now, that it was almost scary. He stiffened as I wrapped my arms tighter around him.
"Whatever it is," I leaned my head against his chest. "It'll be alright."
I didn't know why I was comforting him. I should hate him, but I couldn't find it in me.
I could hear his heart beating steadily in his chest as he wrapped his arms around my waist and pulled me closer, his hands balled into fists on my back. I felt droplets land on my shoulder as he burried his face in my neck.
He was warm, wearing a white cotton T-shirt and sweatpants. It was the first time I'd seen him in normal clothes.
"Nevaeh," he murmured, moving slightly. I thought I could feel his lips touch my jaw, but I was too afraid to look and put him on guard again.
        I still wore my red dress, and I could feel the fabric clinging to my skin. His fingers relaxed as he clutched me to him, stroking my hair.
      He pulled my chin up to look at him after a moment. He looked so sad it almost hurt me. He looked like he was about to say something, but no words came through. Desperation and loneliness sparked between his eyes, and his breath came out in a soft, exasperated sigh.
      He leaned forward slowly, his dark eyes slipping closed. I let mine do the same as his lips moved gently towards mine. He pulled me closer, and hesitated just before his lips met mine.
The kiss was light, at first. Then, his lips started to move slowly against mine. Heat burned through me as I wrapped my arms around his neck, deepening the kiss.
He pushed me up against the chilly window gently, sliding his tongue along my lower lip. My mouth parted in a short gasp, and his tongue slipped inside, tangling with mine.
My fingers slipped into his hair as I returned the kiss. It was heard to breathe, and the air kept hitching in my chest. I wondered if he could hear my racing heart beat, as I was certain it was loud. His kiss was so passionate it made my heart ache.
His hand slid to the back of my neck, pulling me closer. I gripped the neck of his shirt, gasping for air against him. His lips were so soft, and his kisses made me tremble. My knees felt week below me and my head was swimming.
        He pressed against me harder, his fingers tangling in my hair as he gripped the back of my dress. I thought I heard it tear, but I was too far gone to care.
       My hands slipped from his neck and I gripped his shoulders as his arm encircled my waist, and his body pressed harder against me. The cold glass was hard and cold against me. The kiss became deeper and more passionate, and my heart tumbled inside me.
My chest ached with longing as my hands slid to his lower abdomen. I clutched the sides of his shirt gently. I felt like I was burning, and my head seemed to be swimming.
He pulled back slowly, kissing me once more before releasing me.
"Are you going to sleep with me?" I wondered. My heart was still racing, and I felt overheated.
"Not tonight," he said. He wasn't looking at me. Just as I was about to turn back to the platform bedroom, he caught my wrist. "Why do I want to kiss you so badly?" he murmured. I looked at him for a moment. His eyes were wild, and he was sweating.
He let me go almost immediately, seeming shocked by his words. He stepped back slowly, glaring at me.
I stepped towards him carefully, causing him to back against the couch. I stood toe to toe with him, my eyes locked on his as I stood on my toes and leaned forward. I pressed my lips to his gently, and he stood for a moment, in shock, before shoving me away.
I lost my balance and stumbled backwards. He caught my arm before I fell. He flipped me onto the couch swiftly and easily, his hands pinning my wrists above my head as he hovered over me. His knee came to rest between my legs as he used his other to support him on the floor.
His dark eyes were narrowed into a deadly glare and a growl seemed to burn in his throat. I whimpered, suddenly afraid. He's terrifying right now.
"I told you not to do that," he snapped, his hands tightening hard around my wrists. I flinched in pain.
"You're hurting me!" I gasped. He released me immediately and stood straight. "Why can't I touch you?" I asked without thinking as I sat up, straightening my skirt.
"You keep making me loose control," he murmured, not answering my question. "What are you doing to me?" he stepped back again quickly, his eyes hardening into an almost bewildered glare. His voice was stern as he said, "Go back to bed, Nevaeh."
      "N-Mr. Ivanov?" I corrected myself. I'd almost called him by his first name. Noah. It was a nice name.
      "Leave me," he commanded angrily, turning away. I slipped back up to the bed without another word. His mood swings were starting to give me whiplash.
       I climbed back into the bed, my throat starting to hurt from dryness. I was too afraid to disobey him tonight.  He seemed...off. What is with him? He's such a jerk sometimes. I glowered stubbornly. And then my features suddenly softened. But he's also kind, and caring. He's never done anything to intentionally hurt me.
       I lay under the sheets, unable to sleep. It seemed like the night would never end as the time ticked by slowly on the electronic clock. Eventually, the sun rose over the city, painting the grey sky gold and orange as snow continued to fall.
I slipped out of bed again, hoping I could slip past him for some water. My throat was burning uncomfortably now.
      Mr. Ivanov was asleep on the couch, his shirt crumpled up on the floor. My stomach grumbled as I climbed up to the kitchen. It had a wrap-around bar and seven barstools.
I may as well make breakfast today. I thought, looking over at him. He's not waking up anytime soon. I sighed, rummaging through the kitchen.
        I gulped down two cups of water, sipping on a third as I cracked eggs open into a bowl and scrambled them. I then began pouring them into a greased pan and put them on low heat. I got to work on the bacon, accidentally slicing my finger open on the packaging.
     "Ouch," I muttered, examining the bleeding injury.
       "You should be more careful, a low voice came from behind me, making me jump. I spun around to face Mr. Ivanov as a drop of blood ran down my finger.
    He lifted my hand and examined it. Then he reached into the cupboard under the sink and pulled out a first aid kit. He cleaned and bandaged my finger before kissing it softly.
       I blushed at the contact and pulled my hand away, gripping my wrist. "Y-you startled me," I stuttered.
       "I apologize," he said, gripping my waist and pulling me to him. I could feel the heat coming off his bare chest. "What's for breakfast?"
      "Um," I looked up at him. "Eggs and bacon."
      "Simple and delicious," he said, brushing a kiss on my forehead. "I'll take over. You go shower and change.  There should be some red bags in the bathroom for you."
       "Okay," I bit my lip, and his grip on me tightened a little before he released me. "See you in a little bit," he called after me.
I barely focused on my shower, but I took my time, trying to make more escape plans.
I could simply walk out the front door, but I'd have to wait until he's asleep and it's dark out. The problem is, he seems like a light sleeper. How can I get around him?
I pondered this as I scrubbed my body clean.
I could also wait until he leaves the room and sneak out behind him. But where would I go? Maybe I can find a map of the city in one of the books on the shelves by the dining table. And if I can't?
I thought about this for a long moment as I shut the water off and stepped out of the shower, pulling a fluffy white towel around me. Then, I noticed his wallet on the counter. Maybe there's something I can use? I hesitated. If I got caught, there was no excusing my behavior.
This might be my only chance. I took a long shaky breath. Then, I walked silently towards the door, sliding the latch closed as silently as possible, praying he wouldn't hear it.
       I lifted the wallet up with shaking hands, looking through it carefully. A photo caught my attention. This must be the one he was looking at last night. I shouldn't look. I bit my lip, listening carefully through the door as I pulled the picture out.
      My hand flew to my mouth as I tried to suppress a shocked gasp. Mr. Ivanov stood smiling in the photo, and my sister stood beside him, with his frowning employee, Angelina.
Natalia. I pressed my lips together as I stared at the picture. She looked like me, but her hair was auburn, hanging just below her shoulders. She had an hourglass figure, like me, and our faces were similar. Her eyes were bright, the same shade as mine.
      I slipped the photo back into the wallet, looking through it one more time. My heart was thudding in my chest, and my hands were shaking. There was nothing useful inside, and I placed it back down carefully where I had found it. I slid the latch back open and knelt before the red suitcases and bags on the ground.
      I sifted through them, deciding on black nylon tights, a tight knitted sweater dress, and grey heeled ankle boots.
       I pulled the clothes on and smoothed the dress before brushing my hair and pulling it into a high, loose ponytail. I then dusted on a light layer of make up with thin eyeliner and tinted pink lips. Ari had taught me how to apply a few different styles when she'd had spare time.
        Just then, a knock came at the door and it opened. He looked me over slowly, seeming pleased as I capped the lipgloss I was applying. He stepped towards me and reached past me for his wallet. He stood so close that his scent made me dizzy.
       "Breakfast is ready," he said after clearing his throat and stepping back.
I followed him into the dining room and sat across from him. He had turned the simple eggs and bacon into a beautiful and fluffy bacon omelet, with peppers and cheese baked in. More cheese smothered the top.
       He poured me a glass of milk and poured a red powder into it, turning it pink as he stirred. Strawberry milk. I realized, taking a sip. I closed my eyes as the cool liquid cascaded down my throat.
      It was the perfect amount of sweetness, counteracting the savory omelette. 
       "How does it taste?" he asked, taking a sip of brandy.
        "It's delicious," I said.
        "I have a meeting in an hour. I'll be back this evening for dinner. It's casual, so what you're wearing should suffice."
         "Alright," I said around another bite. I'd decided not to say anything about Natalia yet.
I didn't know how how he'd react to me searching his wallet. I was also terrified of knowing what had happened to her. Did she belong to you, or someone else? Do you know that she's my sister?
We ate in silence, and he excused himself a half hour before nine to shower and change. I browsed the bookshelves as the water ran in the bathroom.
There was nothing that hinted at geography, aside from a few history books. I scanned through them, but nothing in particular caught my attention.
      A few minutes later, he came out of the bathroom and called me over to him. His tie was loose and I instinctively reached up to tighten it. I'd done this a thousand times for my father.
      He gripped my hand and lifted his other, as though he were going to stroke my cheek. He hesitated for a moment, and then he let both of his hands fall away from me.
       "I'll see you when I return," he sighed, sweeping silently out of the front door. It clicked shut, and I tried the handle. It's locked. There must be a keycard that opens it somewhere. He must be keeping it with him.
       I sighed and sat on the couch in front of the TV, turning it on and flipping through channels. A news broadcast cut in suddenly, showing the tall bridge that cut over Central Lake. It resembled a bridge I'd once seen in a history book, but larger and taller.
       I stood immediately and moved closer to the screen. It was showing the layout of the city in a Birdseye view, and I was busy absorbing as much of it as I could. I payed no attention to what the news woman was saying, and the broadcast ended as abruptly as it began, returning to the cartoon I'd been about to skip over.
The bridge. My eyes widened as I sat back down, obsessively memorizing what I'd seen a moment ago. The bridge is my best bet. I'll have to stay off the main streets until I reach it. Stick to the shadows. The bridge leads into the farmlands. Not a lot of guards patrol there. I'll still be out in the open, but it's a long drop to the water. A quick death.
       My likely hood of being caught once I reach the inner wall gate is minimal compared to other options. Even so, I'll have a long way to go to reach the outer wall. And I'll have to travel through the empty farmlands for several weeks if I'm on foot. Patrols are likely to be high around the outer wall, but there may be a way out.
      I sighed and stood. I searched through the entire compartment, pretending to be mildly interested. Instead, I was hoping to find something-anything that could help me.
I hummed to myself as I searched, eventually giving up and returning to the TV. What are my assets?
I thought for a moment. I can take a knife with me. I think I know the layout of the city well enough to stay hidden. I'll need to wear something warm. It's good that I have a coat. There's not much in the way of jeans or sweats, but leggings should do. I have a pair of boots with low heels. No flat ones.
There was a tiny compass in the bedside drawer. Nothing I can take for food. I'll have to scavenge some while I'm on the run. I'll need a bag too. One of the red ones might suffice.
I continued listing my assets and all of the odds against, pretending to be absorbed in a TV drama. I stayed that way until Mr. Ivanov walked back into the room. It was five pm now.
I watched as he tucked a slick black keycard into his shirt pocket. Of course. I thought.
"Put a jacket on. It's time to go," he said. I wandered silently into the bathroom, pulling on a thick black coat, and a white scarf before joining him at the door. He looked me over before pulling me out into he hallway.
I memorized our surroundings as we walked to the end of the hall and entered an elevator behind a couple with two young children. We greeted each other politely, and then the doors closed. The ride down to the ground floor was long and silent, and Mr. Ivanov wrapped his arm around my waist. All the while, my heart was pounding in my chest.
         I didn't know why, but in any confined space, such as an elevator, electricity seemed to spark in the air around Mr. Ivanov and I. It wasn't so bad right now, since we were not alone.
The doors slid open a couple minutes later, and he guided me through another hallway. We passed a pool room where various families were swimming as we turned into the Lobby.
Nathan was waiting for us in the same white car we'd ridden in last night. Mr. Ivanov sat across from me this time, staring out the window.
"Do you remember what I told you at my office yesterday?" he asked after a moment, pouring himself more brandy.
       "I do," I said, his warning still clear in my mind. I looked over at him. He was wearing thin black reading glasses, which accented his features and made him look more matured.
        "What are you staring at?" he asked, turning to face me.
       "I just haven't seen you in glasses before," I said.
      "I'm slightly far sided," he turned back to the window, removing them and tucking them into his suit coat.
The car came to a stop only five minutes later, in front of a massive aquarium. Mr. Ivanov opened the door and stood before reaching back to help me to my feet.
His arm slipped around my waist as he pulled us towards the front doors. A butler took our coats the moment we stepped inside.
"Shall we take time to walk through some of it  before we join the others?" he asked, his arm sliding from me as he adjusted his shirt. I stepped forward, straightening his tie for him again. He lifted his scarred eyebrow at me as our eyes locked, and I stepped back quickly in embarrassment.
"I'd like that very much, N-Mr. Ivanov," I said, looking around as he led me through another set of doors. I'd almost slipped up again.
Tanks lined the walls and I stopped to stare. Exotic fish of what seemed like every kind filled them, bright and colorful in the illuminated blue water. They were decorated like coral reefs, the descending floors covered in sand. The tanks arched and connected over our heads, creating a long tube as we moved deeper underground.
      I stopped In various places staring at the fish inside with wonder.
       Towards the middle of the hall, Mr. Ivanov pressed his chest against my back, leaning in to murmur in my ear. His voice was light and curious as he asked, "Have you ever been to one of these?"
       "No," I answered just as quietly. He pulled away with out another word and we continued down the hallway.
I stopped again as a large grey fish swam up the glass.
        "That's called a sting ray," he told me.
        "It's....hideous....yet....cute?" my statement sounded more like a question. He chuckled softly. I was awestruck by my surroundings.
        "Just don't get stung by it," he smirked. His arm slipped around my waist again as he led me through the last of the hall into a small room that was black except for the glowing blue tanks lining the walls. They were filled with stringy blobs and tiny fish with curled tails.
        "Those are jellyfish," he pointed to the blobs. "And these are seahorses."
"Those are...interesting names," I responded slowly. I turned to face him, and the air between us became tense. We were the only two people in this dimly illuminated room. He was standing so close to me that we were almost touching. My heart stuttered as our eyes met.
We reached for each other in the same second, and he slammed into me, clutching my face in his hands. He gripped me to him, grabbing fistfuls of my sweater dress as his lips parted and he leaned forward.
Just then, a door clicked open, and a group of men walked in. I recognized one of them as Mr. Wickenburgh. They appraised our situation and chuckled as Mr. Ivanov straightened, and then released me.
      The group approached us, all of them laughing, except for Mr. Wickenburgh. Instead, he was appraising me slowly, a creepy smile crossing his thin lips. He was short and balding, always wearing a black suit and hat. He held a golden cane in his tight hand, leaning casually against it. His eyes were almost white.
      "Are you gonna share, Noah?" One of the younger men asked jokingly. A peculiar look flashed across Mr. Ivanov's face as he gripped my wrist, roughly yanking me against him.
      "Sorry gentlemen," he said with a smile that didn't touch his eyes. "I don't share."
      This brought on another round of laughter as Mr. Ivanov released me again. I looked up at him, feeling grateful that he would not allow these people to share me as so many masters did.
I could feel the old man's stare on me, but I tried to ignore him by focusing all my attention on Mr. Ivanov and the glowing tanks.
     A moment later, Mr. Ivanov excused us from the chatter, and then began guiding me through another set of doors. A vast room with tanks all around waited on the other side. Several doors and hallways were built around the room.
"This way," he turned immediately to the left, pulling me through a door into a crowded room. I was thankful for the current distraction.
Ever since I'd seen the picture, I felt a little uncomfortable near him. I was still drawn in by his mysterious persona, but I couldn't help but wonder if he'd hurt her somehow. I felt a bit blindsided and confused.
"Ivanov!" A loud voice boomed across the room. A bulky middle aged man with combed brown hair sauntered towards us. He was dressed in jeans and a polo shirt. Mr. Ivanov was one of the very few people dressed up. "What have you been doing, my friend? We were supposed to go out for drinks together."
"I apologize," Mr. Ivanov responded politely. "I've been very busy."
      "Running a company at twenty two must be difficult," Mr. Wickenburgh said then, walking up from behind us as he appraised me. "Have you considered stepping down from the company? Surely your parents left you enough money to spend twenty luxurious lifetimes in the New Society."
       "My parents left a generous amount to me, however I find that I enjoy my work, and of course, my father would be disappointed if he were here to see me step down," he paused, turning to look at me. "Go find the other entertainers. I'll message you if I want you to come find me."
His face was guarded, his dark eyes intense as he glanced around. "They're just over that way," he said, gesturing to a group of provocatively and casually dressed people chattering next to a wall.
"Yes, master," I said instinctively. His eyes hardened as I turned away and moved towards the others.
"She's a cute one. Pretty face," I heard the brown haired man say behind me. "Big ass too."
"I suppose," Mr. Ivanov said in an uncaring tone. "I've never been much of a fool for blondes."
I bit my lip, slipping behind a group of people. I touched the scarf at my neck lightly as I approached the massive fish tank that wrapped around the large room. I leaned against it and looked around.
There were tables with white cloths ladened heavily with various foods, deserts, and drinks, and about five hundred people were in the room chattering. I could see Mr. Ivanov as he moved towards a bar across the room with the brown haired man.
The large tank was glowing blue, stocked with exotic sea creatures. Golden chandeliers illuminated the room, glowing above the crimson carpeted floor.
There was a wooden platform in the center of the room, and a band was playing loudly in the background of the crowd's noisy conversation. Surprisingly, entertainers were partying amongst the others, enjoying themselves.
"Hey, Tiny," a husky voice said as someone leaned against the wall beside me. I looked over to see the boy who'd been in the institution with me. He'd been sold three months before me, though I didn't know who he belonged to, now.
"Hey there, Brains," I said.
"I never got your real name, Tiny," he said.
"Nevaeh Jay Williams," I said slowly. We hadn't been allowed to share our real names in the institution. We were numbers to the trainers and the system. Specifically numbers 55, 56, 57, and 58.
Out of annoyance for the numbers, the four of us had come up with nicknames for each other. I was Tiny, he was Brains. The other girls were Whims and Soul. "What is yours?"
     "Finch Lee Pierce," he said. "But you can call me Fin."
"Like the bird?" I wondered.
"Exactly," he grinned. "Come with me," he took my hand in excitement and led me through a few groups of chattering entertainers.
His skin was rough and calloused. He wore a v-neck t-shirt and jeans that hugged his tall and toned body. His golden brown hair had grown to the middle of his neck, parted at the side. His skin was softly tanned and dotted lightly with cute freckles.
        He pulled me to a stop in front of two girls and I grinned as they embraced me.
       "Whims and Soul," Finch said almost dramatically. Whims had been sold with Brains, but Soul and I had been taken together.
"My real name is Lizzy Anne Miller," Whims smiled at me. Her thick red-orange hair hung in curls to her elbows, styled in a braided half ponytail. She was tall and skinny, wearing a black sleeveless dress that hung to her mid thighs.
         "Nora Akili Mambwe," soul said. Extremely thick, black, tight curls framed her oval face, hanging to her shoulders in a spiral bob. It had a glossy and lovely texture, with natural kinky curls. Her skin was a deep caramel brown, and her features were dark. Her body was curvy, hugged tightly by a deep blue sundress.
        "I'm Nevaeh," I grinned, happy to finally know their true names. The four of us had become close, bonding like family during our time in the institution.
      "Who did you end up with?" Nora asked curiously, sipping on a strawberry lemonade.
        "Noah Ivanov," I answered easily. "Who are all of you with?"
         "My master's name is Charles Davies," Lizzy answered.
        "Henry Ashford," Nora said.
        "Angelina Jeane Gray," Finch responded, rolling his eyes. "She makes me call her Angel."
We all blanched and then giggled. It was way too cheesy.
I leaned against the tank, glancing around the room as I asked, "Are there any rules about being here?"
       "Didn't your master tell you anything?" Lizzy wondered. I bit my lip, and then shook my head.
       "The only rules you have to follow are the laws, and the rules your master gives you," Nora said after a moment. We all went quiet for a moment.
       "I miss having choices," Lizzy said quietly, smoothing her dress. I looked up at her curiously and her serious hazel eyes met mine.
      "Me too," Finch murmured, leaning against the tank with me. The scent of pine and spice emanated from him.
"Yeah," Nora agreed.
        "Wait...you guys...were citizens, too?" I asked. They all looked at me like I was missing something.
         "Virgin flowers exist because of the rare chance that the system won't immediately link our blood with a war criminal's," Nora explained softly.
          "I think they do it on purpose," Finch murmured quietly. "Because of our genetics and fertility. Think about it. They don't make citizens do those tests just for medical shit. They're still trying to repopulate the world after the nuclear war, and we are all 100% fertile. That's also why each adult citizen is forced to sacrifice five children to the New Society. None of us are actually related to a war criminal."
      We all looked at him in shock.
"Careful, Brains," Nora hissed, looking around nervously. Her voice was hushed as she said, "You'll get yourself killed."
"Alright," Finch sighed, crossing his muscled arms over his defined chest. His deep hazel eyes looked tired.
His logic made sense, and he was good at figuring things out. He was calculative and intelligent, which was why we called him Brains.
       Yet, what he'd said scared me, and his words played on repeat in my head. Think about it. He'd said.  They're still trying to repopulate the world...None of us are actually related to a war criminal.
But what would be the point? True, the society claimed their goal was genetic perfection. My father had always believed there was more to it. What aren't they telling us? Of course, it would make sense for them to aim for better genetics-but then, why go through all of the effort the Institution requires? Certainly, it would be preferable to use the gathered data and pair two people together who have good chances of their offspring having better genetics? They certainly aren't doing this the easy way. What is their real goal?
I shook my head slowly, trying to banish the rebellious thoughts from my mind. You can't think like this. It will only get you killed.
"Let's go dance," Lizzy said a moment later, breaking the tension. Nora nodded and followed her towards the raised platform where various people were gathered.
"Shall we?" Finch asked, holding his hand out to me. I took it, grinning at him.
He led me slowly through the crowd. I glanced around, feeling anxious from all the people around me. I'd never been good with a crowd.
Suddenly my eyes locked on Mr. Ivanov's. He stood across from the room, watching me as Finch pulled me with him.
       Mr. Ivanov's co-worker was pressed up against him, her arm looped through his elbow. She was pressing her partially exposed chest against his upper arm as she clung to him, very obviously flirting with him.
       Just as Finch pulled me up onto the smooth wooden platform, I lost sight of Mr. Ivanov. Something about the way Angelina Gray touched him bothered me, but I brushed it off, deciding it was better not to dwell on it.
Finch pulled me towards where Nora and Lizzy were dancing together and turned me to face him. His hand came to rest lightly on my waist, and he took my hand in his.
He led me, and it was easy to keep up. The song we danced to was played by an acoustic guitar and a gentle beat. The man singing to it had a tenor voice, and the lyrics were distant yet soft, filled with dark passion. They described emotional captivation, and relying on someone you shouldn't.
My feet moved clumsily with him as he led. I could dance, but not very well. He, however, seemed completely in his element as we moved together.
He moved us in an L formation, occasionally spinning me out, and pulling me in. We began a box formation dance, and our steps were longer.
The low-setting lights danced in circles around us, making me dizzy with every turn. Even though I'd never been very good at dancing, I'd always enjoyed it. I felt content now, happy in Finch's arms. I felt like myself for the first time in years.
Finch spun me gracefully in a circle and dipped me in his arms before straightening us and leading us through the end of the dance.
The song came to an end a few moments later, and another began. This time, the song was up beat, and a more casual kind of dance began.
       Everyone began to move more freely around us, jumping up and down with the music while they grinned and laughed. The dance had turned full on party mode, and the music flooded through me. Most of the people on the platform were younger, I realized.
       "You look nervous," Finch said. "Show me your moves and I'll show you mine. I used to love dancing," his tone was teasing and barely audible over the music.I swayed back and forth with the music.
"Just dance," I laughed, but I felt less nervous as I moved with the music. It reminded me of going to the dance clubs during the youth nights that occurred every weekend when I was growing up in the assigned community growing up.
People who were not rich were assigned homes and received scheduled nutrition-based meals three times a day. The housing compartments were walled off in various places in the cities, typically near the rail lines, and a train provided quick travel to and from their assigned work stations.
      Life was so easy when I lived in one with my family on the outskirts of Ruby City. Now, it was a mess.
       Finch gripped my waist suddenly, pulling me back to reality as he led us in another, upbeat dance when a new song began. I giggled as we danced almost clumsily, putting some sway into my hips.
        He was good-very good-at dancing. His body seemed to move smoothly and flawlessly with and against mine as he spun me quickly and dipped me, lifting my entire body before pulling me to my feet. He spun me away from him, then pulled me back up against him.
       His eyes were bright, and he was smiling widely. I couldn't help but grin back. I was genuinely enjoying this. I began jumping up and down, clapping with the audience as the bridge began.
       I threw my arms over my head as I moved with the beat, panting and feeling overheated, but excited as the song came to an end.
Another began with a slowed upbeat tempo. Our moves slowed as we circled each other. He grabbed me again, and spun us in a circle, then spun me out gracefully.
He gripped my waist from the side and he swung me in a full circle before pulling me against his body again. I was sweating and giggling. This was the first moment of true fun I'd experienced since my last day with my family.
       "I haven't laughed this much in ages," his voice was light, his eyes bright.
         "Me either," I grinned as the song came to an end.
       "I could use a drink," he panted, wiping the sweat from his brow. "I'll be right back. Do you want one?"
       "Please," I grinned. "But I'll come with you."
       "Alright," he smiled and turned, jogging down the steps. I followed after him, tapping my bracelet twice to check the time. It was already past ten.
We reached a table a moment later, and I gulped down a glass of water, laughing when Finch sneezed, and water sprayed from his nose.
"Are you okay?" I giggled again as he wiped his face off with a napkin.
"I thought I was gonna drown for a second," he chuckled, his plump lips raised crookedly. He had fine, straight teeth.
"Would you look at that?" A menacingly sweet voice said. I jumped, turning towards whoever had spoken.
Angelina Gray and Mr. Ivanov were sipping champagne from stemmed crystal glasses. She still clung to him, but he didn't seem very interested in her.
She wore a ruby red dress that fell tightly to her knees. Her inky black hair hung around her in waves, flowing to the bottom of her rib cage.
"Our song birds are flirting," she said, her eyes narrowed at me as she clung tighter to Mr. Ivanov. She was claiming her territory, and it made me want to punch her.  As if, bitch. I could kick your ass five ways to Sunday, if I cared to.
The sudden burst of anger startled me as she appraised me. Finch was standing straight at my side, completely silent. The smiles had drained from both of our faces. Are we in trouble? I wondered.
"How adorable. Go ahead and kiss her, Birdie."
"What?" Finch asked blankly as my eyes caught Mr. Ivanov's. I thought I saw him nod just slightly. Is he telling me to do whatever she says?
"You heard me, Finchey. Kiss her," she snapped, glaring at him angrily.
Finch turned to me, an apology in his eyes. "It's okay," I said softly, and he wrapped his arms around me, kissing me lightly and sweetly, before quickly releasing me and stepping back. I felt absolutely nothing other than the brief brush of his lips against mine.
"Come on, Birdie," Angelina purred. "Kiss her better than that. Give us a show."
People were turning to stare now. Finch was blushing brightly, staring at his feet. Embarrassment filled me as I looked back up at those onyx eyes flecked with gold and amber.
"That's enough," Mr. Ivanov said, pulling away from Angelina and stepping towards me. He gripped my arm gently as he said, "I'm bored with this."
"Are you leaving, then?" Angelina asked, distracted.
"I have a meeting early in the morning," he sighed, pulling me past her. "Good evening, Ms. Gray."
I could feel her glare follow me as someone brought our coats to us. I could even feel it when we walked back through the aquarium tube, and outside. I felt it in the silent car ride, and all the way back to the hotel.
This is how I knew that she would do anything to make Mr. Ivanov hers. Anything to keep him. Anything.