My stride is casual as I make my way toward her. Danika never looks in my direction. She doesn’t sense the predator I’m becoming, doesn’t somehow intuit the game I’ll play.
Getting close, I continue my steps as if walking toward the restrooms. Stepping closer, I purposely knock my shoulder against hers, stopping then to lock eyes with her.
Fuck, she’s beautiful. Her eyes are grey like a stormy sky, her face a perfect blend of delicate features, perfectly complemented by pouty, soft lips.
“Excuse me,” I say in my attempt to act surprised that I’d accidentally run into her. Her perfect lips spread into a genuine smile.
“We meet again,” she answers, a conspiratorial note to her voice that spears through me like lightning.
Tilting my head as if unaware we’d ever spoken, I ask, “For the life of me, I can’t remember where we’ve met before?”
That’s a fucking lie.
I know exactly where I’ve seen her before. But that night, I was too distracted to see just how beautiful she is, or the way her voice has a soft lilt to it that gives away that she hasn’t always lived in this state.
Danika loosely wraps her arm with mine. “No? Well, then it would be rude of me not to remind you.”
She looks to the group of women, “If you all will excuse me? Taylor is an old friend, and I should step away so we can reacquaint ourselves with each other.”
The other women laugh softly, their eyes studying me like I’m an oddity, one member of the Inferno that doesn’t make public appearances.
But I’m still a member of the group, and for that reason, they run their eyes all over me, a few jealous expressions flashed at Danika as we turn to walk off. Danika leans into me and I breathe in the floral notes of her perfume.
“Sorry for the lie that we’re old friends, but I needed an excuse to escape them. Ten more minutes of that banal conversation would have driven me insane.”
I don’t mind the lie. In fact, I expect to become great friends with her … at least until I have her trapped in place with the game I intend to play.
Glancing at her as we meander, arm in arm, through the crowd, I enjoy how her long, dark brown hair brushes across my face. Unlike most of the women here who wear their hair in fancy updos, Danika left hers down, the dark shade a complement to her champagne colored gown.
“I’m not worried about the lie; I’m just wondering how we haven’t become friends sooner. I wouldn’t have minded.”
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