Blazed (30 page)

"Emmy, good god! Is that really you?" Stepping back, she walked in a circle around me, scrutinising me from every angle, coming back to stand in front of me and toy with my hair. "You look stunning. The blonde looks great. But your father said you weren't coming."

"Ah," I grabbed my glass to hide behind it, "I'm not here with the family. I'm here as a plus one."

"Come again?" She didn't even try to not act surprised. "Have you run out of hearts to break?"

"Oh no, I almost certainly have at least one more, though I'm hoping to hang onto it."

"I see. So..." Cornelia scanned the room over her shoulder and squinted. "You're not here with Derek because he's old and paunchy... Joseph is here with his 'wife' and my brothers are both, how do I put it, 'preoccupied' with their women... You're not with him..."
— she looked somewhat smugly at a savagely attractive dark haired man sans mask laughing with Blaze— "because he's mine. And some lucky young lady has just snagged the man with him."

"Oh?" Turning to look in the direction of Blaze, I took another sip of scotch to hide my amusement. "Recently?"

"Mm-hmm. Such a shame because you'd have gotten on so well. I had to travel down to the Pearce & Parker office in Birmingham yesterday to approve of the ring he picked out. So nervous, he was. Planned to pop the question tonight but changed his mind this morning and decided to keep it private. Such a shame, I do love a good proposal." 

I sucked in a breath and let it out slowly, bracing myself to reveal the news for the first time. "It needed flowers."

"Emmy!" Cornelia nudged me in the ribs with her elbow and flashed me one of her stunning model smiles. I knew that smile was genuine, having spent a period of time sneaking out of galas and dinner parties with her, drinking heavily to escape in more ways than one and rambling. She had some idea of how rough my life had been and she was glad to see me with some stability in my life. "He adores you. You know that, don't you?"

"I think so," I breathed, "I adore him too. He's done me so much good."

"It shows. What do your family think of him?"

Averting my eyes, I turned back to the bar and kept my eyes fixed on the rows of spirit optics. "They don't know. He doesn't know about my family. I'm hoping to avoid it if possible."

"That might be difficult—" Cornelia tapped my shoulder and pointed out in Blaze's direction, "— as he's talking to your father."

MY LEGS SHOOK like leaves as I tentatively approached what appeared to be a far too friendly conversation. Henry talked animatedly while Blaze rocked back on his heels to laugh at the right moments— a silky warm caress of a laugh I could hear over the music and the hundreds of voices around us. Nobody would doubt that they were familiar, probably trading boyish jibes and quips. 

My heartbeat pounded in my ears as I got closer, making me feel sick and dizzy. Somehow, their voices echoed over everything too.

"No, New York sorely needs someone to go out and throw their weight around at 
The Seymour
. I just don't have the time to go myself and Tallulah is a halfwit."

"Is your youngest still refusing to partake in the family business?"

"Blaze, my boy— I would do anything to get my little ball-buster in and Tally out. I still maintain that you'd get on like a house on fire. You could be good for her."

"Sorry, old chap. I've very recently acquired a ball-buster of my own."

Blaze looked in my direction the same moment my step faltered— he muttered something to Henry and they laughed. "Henry," he beamed and reached out to curl an arm around my waist when I was close enough, "this is my very significant other." Politely, I offered my hand and kept my eyes fixed down. The minute he saw them, he'd know. They're were too much like my mother's; too keen and all-seeing. They told my story with a single blink.

"Miss White, yes?" I nodded. "Not very talkative, are you?"
 

"She's here under sufferance. I've just brought her to show her off."

"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.