Muffins - Loki & Ylva alternate universe stories

Gold dress III

Last chapter of The gold dress!

***

Loki's words bring my surroundings back and I notice how the people are gathering at the far end of the room, where a podium is erected for the auctioneer. A white screen is mounted at the wall for the purpose of showing pictures of all the items up for auction. Now, it shows the logo of the children's hospital, together with the names of all the companies that contributed to this auction. Without me noticing it Loki has brought us to the side of the dancefloor that is closest to the room where the auctioned items are displayed. He spins us for a last time and actually dips me at the end of the spin, his fingers splayed wide upon my back. Slowly he moves me back up until I am lined up with his chest again. My heart is in my throat as I catch Loki's gaze; he seems as reluctant as I am to let me go.

Then we both step back at the same time, our arms dropping to our sides. "Thanks for the dance," I tell him, my voice a little more timid than I was going for.

Loki flashes me a warm smile. "It was my pleasure, Wolfgirl."

Over his shoulder I suddenly see something I don't like: near the entrance to the room with the paintings there are two broad shouldered men in grey suits that weren't there before. "Who are they?" I whisper at Loki, following him as he changes his route to the bar instead of going straight to the room. "Barry, did the Russian bring his own security?"

My earpiece gives me the answer shortly. "Possibly. They got in a minute ago. I think..."

Barry suddenly stops talking and a tense minute ticks by before he speaks up frantically. "Patel was made! Hydra knows we are here!"

Shit.

"We gotta move fast," Loki says, having heard the same thing. "They might not know yet we are after the painting, maybe they just think we're shadowing the Russian."

There is a double door to the room with the auction items, a bloke in a grey suit on each side. They are successfully staring everyone out of that room; the people that were still there are gingerly making their way out, giving the men a wide berth. I probably would have done the same thing if I was just here for a fun night out. Getting stared down by a clone of a typical Russian Bond villain is enough to run shivers down your back; bad shivers, not the good ones I got when Loki brought me back up from that dip. I shake my head to dispel those thoughts; tonight has been a little confusing on the emotional front to say the least. It's safe to say I've got something to mull over in the near future. Yet right now is not the time to think about whatever unwanted feelings blossomed as a result of getting Loki's undivided attention; better yet, it might be wise to stomp those feelings as far down as possible. Loki has got a job to do and I will have to help him do it.

Next to me, Loki seems to have his mind on the task at hand, a small frown between his eyebrows as he scans the room. To get to the painting, he has to go through the double doors; it's the only way in. The God of Mischief looks around him and grabs me by the elbow. "Get them to close those doors, and make sure nobody gets in."

I have little time to think about how - and why - I am gonna do that, because Loki already nudges me forward. I quickly grab an abandoned champagne flute from the bar and saunter over to the men in the grey suits. Just as I had hoped, they stop me when I want to walk in the room. "The room is closed, Madam," the left one says, holding up his hand as if to stop me when I take another step. His accent is barely noticeable, yet I am pretty sure this man is from Russia too.

"The doors are open," I point out wittily, gesturing with my glass to the doorway. "I want to look at the pretty jewelry!"

"The room is closed." He really is a typical James Bond villain, the lack of brain cells to form a sentence longer than five words included. The guy even has the bad eighties haircut.