Blazed(43)

"At a masquerade party? Daft sod."

They went on with their conversation like I wasn't even there. I was horrified to find out that Blaze knew Henry. Well. Our mothers had been close before money stole the soul from our family and the only reason we hadn't met before was because Blaze was older than me. While I was sneaking vodka from the liquor cabinet and binging on tea cakes, he was behind the scenes with the adults, dazzling them with his fierce intelligence.

The men talked more about the business troubles in New York; the staff over there were becoming apathetic as their creative minds began to dry up and too much money was being pooled into morale boosting incentive schemes. Not that money and a lack of it was ever a real issue for Henry. I could identify his mistakes just from witnessing that single conversation, though I'd never tell him as such. I wouldn't help him manipulate people.

The only time I was engaged in the conversation was when Henry asked to see my ring and I surrendered it silently without argument. "Beautiful, just beautiful. Like the young lady hiding beneath that mask, I suspect." He released my hand and thumped Blaze on the shoulder. "I've taken up enough of your evening. Show the lady how real men dance."

I could barely believe I'd escaped undetected.

Blaze led me out onto the area of the auditorium directly in front of the stage which had been designated as a dance floor, and wrapped himself around me like a cloak. My rising intoxication levels made it an experience of sensory overload— seeing, hearing, smelling, feeling, and if he kissed me, taste him. He did, and it was only the fact of feeling Henry's eyes on me that stopped me getting indecent.

Blaze moved with his usual grace and refinement, swaying me to Glory Box, a song I'd listened to a lot in the four days I thought he was gone for good. His cheek rested against my head while we moved and the lyrics hummed in his chest. For a moment, I forgot we were surrounded by people. If we'd been stood there naked I wouldn't have cared. I was the calmest I'd felt in years. Maybe ever.

"Are you bored? You're very quiet. You could have spoken to Henry, he's not all that bad."

Nestling into him, I ran my hands up to the lapels of his blazer, feeling the ridges of muscle underneath the fabric. He'd toned up since we'd met, no doubt from the way he'd picked me up and carried me around so much. "What was I supposed to say to him? Tell him that he should stop frittering money away on new property and ventures and focus on what he already has? That throwing money at a problem doesn't make it go away and comfort can't be bought? His employees are flailing through lack of leadership, not lack of inspiration." I lifted my head to look at Blaze's arched brow. "What? I'm not as stupid as I look. That 'dumb blonde' stereotype is only fifty percent accurate."

"You've done a survey of blondes?"

"No, you're either a dumb blonde or you're not. Fifty-fifty." I rolled my eyes as I watched the logic click into place and rested my face over his heart, enjoying feeling it thrum beneath me. Even in that highly charged nightmare environment, I felt unruffled and comfortable, even if the stupid mask was digging into my face.

I closed my eyes and we danced for what felt like an eternity. Fantasies of living this peacefully with him forever unfolded in my imagination along with plans I'd never admit to making out loud. I wondered how our life together would work around his job, if I'd meet the woman he looked after and if I'd end up looking after her too. It was always going to be complicated between us, but that wouldn't stop me committing myself to a life in the firestorm. That much was sealed the moment we fell for each other in that dressing room and I wouldn't let myself regret it any more than I regretted falling in love with Hunter. Both of them were bad for me but gave my life meaning and drive.

Blaze hummed along to the five songs we danced to, occasionally checking I was still awake when I sank into him a little more, hoping we might meld together. But our little bubble burst with an interruption during the opening strains of Don't Know Why.

"Might I cut in?" From the voice, I expected to see Cornelia when I turned around. The full-faced pillar-box red mask told me otherwise. "It's me, lover!"

"Oh, Esme!" I should have guessed from the thick crest of red hair and the fact she was the only one completely covering her face. She valued her privacy so much that over the top functions like these were the only ones she'd come to. The public could get no hint at her face and the press always found a way in somehow. She was many things, but she was not foolhardy.

"You look amazing!" Her eyes glowed behind the mask. "Mind if I pull her away, Blaze?"

"Only if you bring her back quickly," he brushed his hands across my shoulders and down my arms, leaving a trail of goose bumps where he'd touched, "as she is mine now."

"Oh!" Esme grabbed at my hand and sighed dramatically. "Oh thank god. You accepted it. Chris was adamant you'd be on the first plane to Aruba or somewhere equally as obscure." Knew it. It was a comfort to have the suspicion that they'd all known the whole time confirmed. Glancing up at Blaze, she nodded to herself and tugged me towards her. "Don't worry, we'll be right back. I just want to gossip real quick."

Before he gave her permission, we were off across the auditorium and out into the foyer in the direction of the ladies room. We got a good helping of polite nods and hello's from people who knew me only as the lucky woman who'd pinned down Blaze, and somehow that was more of a bragging point than being a Tudor.

The bathroom was empty when we walked in, every black doored cubicle empty in the burgundy tiled room. Esme ducked into the cubicle furthest from the door and pulled me in with her. Unfazed by company, she went about her business as normal.

"So how did he get you to accept it? He can't have dropped to one knee and said the M word."

I stammered, amazed that she'd jumped on the subject with no preamble. "He called it a promise. To his benefit, he was lying there in nothing but his underwear."

"Ohh..." she chuckled quietly, "the old tag 'em and shag 'em tactic. Works well with you."

"Gee, thanks."

"You know he really thinks he's going to marry you, right?"

Temporarily stunned, my gaze dropped down to the emerald on my finger. Marriage. Jesus. It didn't really register that we were heading in that direction until the word was said out loud. I'd said the words but it hadn't really sunk in. It was a hell of a long way to come in such a short time and a hell of a long way to go. But I loved how it implied some much needed solidarity in my life and, for once, some good luck.

"Yes. And I really think I'm going to marry him, Esme." Even though her face was covered, I knew she was grinning like a maniac. Somehow, I don't think anyone had ever expected me to grow enough as a person to reach this kind of point of adulthood. Seeing it happened may have been one of those monumental moments that restored some faith in the romantic notion of happy endings.

"I've seen your mother, by the way. I explained the whole Blaze situation and she's not going to blow your cover. There's a whisper that Hunter's mother is here though." I winced and made a mental note to keep Blaze out of her war path. I'd already identified the masks which hid the faces of the people she'd most likely stay close to. "Are you not tempted to talk to her and flash your new sparkle at her so it gets back to Hunter?"

"What?" I scoffed. "No. I'm not going to have some kind of caveman pissing match with him to be named alpha. 'Ug, me Hunter, you Emmeline, me pee-pee make whizz higher'. It wouldn't be fair to make him embarrass himself when I'd obviously win anyway."

"God, you crack me up." We battled to straighten out the many netted layers fanning from the waist line of Esme's knee-high ball gown in the same shade of red as her mask and giggled like fools while we shuffled around to escape the cramped cubicle. "Just promise me I get to be your maid of honour."

"Of course. Who else would do it? My stupid sister?"

A sister whose face was the first I saw when I stumbled out through the door into a less than vacant bathroom. Five women had congregated while we'd been talking and had all removed their masks to fix their makeup. I was grateful to only recognise one of them.

Our eyes met for a split second in the mirror before Esme made a sweeping bow behind me and proclaimed, "Ladies." On the next beat, we were scurrying back out through the foyer in fits of hushed laughter that earned us a few dozen curious looks. "Do you think she knew it was you?"

"Maybe. Can't be sure if she got a good look at my eyes." I flapped a hand dismissively. "Don't really care. She knows she'd be lucky to get an invite, let alone an ugly bridesmaid dress." There was no guarantee I'd ever find anything to look good on her. Tallulah had the same ruddy complexion as Henry, lifeless brown eyes and a mess of auburn hair. It was almost impossible to believe that we came from the same parents— even I wouldn't believe it myself if we didn't all, by some strange coincidence, have the same rare blood type, even Ivy.