Interlude

Chapter 17

Rose's heart had stopped beating. A shiver ran from her neck to her fingertips and right down to her toes. With shaky hands, she slipped her phone back in her small handbag.

With precise movements, she picked up another glass from the tray. Slowly, without pulling attention, she retreated from the group and walked to the edge of the terrace. The sparkling city lights blurred in her vision. She took a slow, meaningful breath. Inhale. A moment. Exhale. Another sip of the drink.

It wasn't important what drink it was, as long as she continued to bring it to her lips and swallow the liquid. Her feet hurt, despite the sensible height of heels. She leaned on the railing in an attempt to take some pressure of her toes.

"Oh Dev, so nice of you to join." A voice echoed behind, making her jump. Her heart palpitated and palms felt clammy. "You've finally graced us with your presence." Someone was teasing. There was chuckling and laughter and some more words.

She was aware that he was standing only steps away. How long had passed, she did not know, but at some point, the smell of his perfume was closer. Ever so lightly, something warm touched a patch of her lower back. A hand reached for the glass that was raised halfway, lowering it a few inches.

"Tell me first," he whispered into her ear, "Then drink."

He was too close for comfort. The solid muscle of his chest was pressed against her left shoulder blade; the fabric of his jacket was rough against the length of her arm, but in the most appealing way possible.

When the words came out, her voice seemed unlike her own, breathless and weak. "Dan's asked Wade from the office to drop us home."

"Good." His hand left the glass and rested on the smooth metal railing. Her eyes fell on the long, hard line of his fingers, somehow looking more manly with the heavy smart watch around his wrist.

"Are you cold?" he whispered with genuine concern.

Her mouth had gone dry. She shook her head, softly.

He touched her elbow then trailed his fingertips upward, caressing the length of her slender arm. Slow and deliberate touches, from her bicep to her forearm and back again. She thought it was an attempt to comfort but he knew it was a desperation to touch.

"By the way," he continued to whisper, "you look beautiful."

It was putting it mildly. He thought she looked stunning; a magnificent creature that did not belong to this party or this evening or this world. It belonged... only to him. He had been abnormally aware of her to the same, perhaps even greater degree than she had. The only difference being, he was better at sleuth than she was. It was the old skill after all. He had years of practice...years of watching from the corners and protecting her from a distance without her ever realizing.

Until now.

Every time he felt her gaze on him, a violent pleasure bolted through him. His masculine pride swelled with primal satisfaction.

She was wearing a green fitted dress. It was by no means, revealing or exceptional fashionable. But he thought it was phenomenal simply because she made it so. His mouth spoke expertly about concrete and plywood but his mind was consumed by the shape of her body draped in forest green. The smooth curve of her waist, the length of her legs, the way she held back her shoulders straight and confident. Once in a while, she would flip her hair back, in the middle of a conversation and smile or chuckle. He felt a pang of envy then, especially if the onlooker was a man.

He could see now, a scarlet blush glowing on her face. It drove him crazy. Tugging at her elbow, he turned her around to face him. He was practically holding her in his arms now, one hand gripping her waist, the other idly touching her arm.