Page 12 of A Dark Fall

“The DJ is on soon. We were waiting for you as the girls want to go down and find a good spot on the dance floor!”

I wonder what’s wrong with our current spot. Surely it’s called VIP for a reason. I have little power to resist though, because I’m far too hot, and my brain is all soft. I can still smell him and feel his hands and mouth on me.

“Sure, let’s go down.” I shrug. Maybe a dance and a shot will clear my head of him.

The dance floor is heaving, the sheer number of people making it hard to move, let alone dance. Somehow, we squeeze our way to the bar, the guys from our neighboring VIP booth pushing their way through the crowd with little care or manners, ignoring the looks other dancers throw at them. I, however, smile politely and mouth, “Sorry,” to them as I slip into the path they’ve made.

Rob refuses to let the guys pay—a rule we stick to on every night out no matter where we are—and turns to hand me a glass of champagne and a shot of “mercury.” Of course, I know better than to knock back shots for the sole purpose of getting drunk, but my nerves are frayed and my decision-making questionable, so I tip it back into my mouth.

The stuff is vile. It’s warm and thick, and it crawls its way down my throat. With my face screwed up in disgust, I turn to place the small glass back on the bar and take a long gulp of champagne to drown out the taste.

As Rob passes the drinks to the other girls, I turn slightly to see I’ve been positioned next to one of the guys from the neighboring table. He beams at me wide. Dark, almost black hair, tall, with delicate skin and kind eyes—the sort of guy I would normally find attractive. Normally.

“So, your friend says you’re a doctor,” he bends to shout in my ear.

I plaster on a smile and nod. “Yes. What about you?” I ask, my eyes drifting up toward Jake’s office. I wonder if he can see me from here. Do I want that?

“I’m in the financial sector,” he tells me, showing me his perfect white teeth again. No sharp ones, just straight and even and white. Probably a little too big if I have to nitpick.

Big teeth? Seriously, Alex?

“Sounds interesting,” I lie.

“It’s not. But the money’s great, you know?” He laughs.

“I imagine it is.” God, I am so truly awful at this. Truly. Small talk. I hate it more than most things on earth.

I sip my champagne again so I don’t have to speak.

“I’m Matt, by the way.”

I gulp down my champagne. “Alex—hi,” I shout back. The beat of the music changes, deepening into something more euphoric, and presumably because the mercury has done its job, I begin to sway slightly in time with it.

“Want to dance?” he asks close to my ear. When I look at him, he nods behind me toward the dance floor.

I think about Jake watching me dance with this guy, and it makes me feel odd. I’m almost sure he isn’t watching. A “pretty big night” for him, he said. I’m sure he has a million and one other matters to take care of. Young, pretty bar staff for example.

“Actually, yes, I do,” I tell him, and he grins. I place my glass on the bar and reach out to grab Matt’s hand as he moves us onto the dance floor. Rob gives me an open-mouthed stare as I pass, then a bright thumbs-up.

We find a less densely populated spot by a large stone pillar, and I’m grateful for the gust of air that rushes at me as we leave the busier part of the club. While I dance, Matt moves in closer so he’s pressed against my back, hips grinding into mine. When his mouth immediately makes for my neck, I shift to move out of his reach, making it look as if I’m swaying to the music.

As the beat slows, I close my eyes and sway, the music beating away at my body, the image of Jake making love to me shaping itself once more behind my eyes. I feel Matt lean into me again, mouth against my ear. He smells sweet and overpowering. There’s an underlying maleness too, but it’s not as affecting as Jake’s.

Seriously? His scent? What is my deal with scenting men tonight?

“You’re absolutely stunning, by the way,” he says, his voice low.

I groan inwardly. The dreaded clichéd come-on. I hate this, the attempt to chat you up with lines they think you want to hear.

Opening my eyes, I turn to look up at him, and he gives what I presume is his knee-trembling smile—the one he uses on girls all the time. I’ll bet it rarely fails him too. I smile back, not really knowing what else to do or say. I’m already regretting asking him to dance because, essentially, I’ve encouraged the come-on. I’ve made him think I’m interested in more than dancing, clearly.

Matt misreads my look, and suddenly, he’s far too close, and then his mouth is on mine, his arms wrapping around me. I move back until I feel the pillar against my spine. God, no, I don’t want this. I start to push at him, but he doesn’t shift immediately, and then, just as the panic kicks in, I feel his entire weight disappear. When I look around, I see Matt being dragged away from me by a large man in a dark suit who looks like security. As I shift my gaze around to see if anyone saw us, I see him. Jake. Staring at me with a dark look on his face, his mouth in a hard line. His eyes hold mine for a few long seconds before he gestures to his security guard, a small flick of his head.

As Matt is pushed roughly through the crowd by the large security guard, I turn back to Jake, frowning. His expression doesn’t change; he still looks angry, but he also looks as if he might come toward me, maybe even kiss me again. God, I want him to kiss me again. But for some reason, I feel worried for Matt and as if I’m responsible for what’s happening now.

Turning away from Jake’s glare, I push forward, squeezing through the thickening crowd toward where they took Matt-who-works-in-finance. By a fire exit, I see the violent creep who accompanied Jake to the surgery that night, and he gives a look that turns my stomach before pushing open the fire exit for the security guard to practically throw Matt out of. I speed up, slipping through it before it closes into a brick hallway filled with kegs and boxes and a cold, damp smell.

“What exactly is going on?” I shout, trying for my reasonable, professional voice. I walk toward Matt, the creep and the security guard both turning to me. When the creep’s eyes flick over my shoulder, I turn to see Jake entering the hallway, the door closing hard behind him.