Page 69 of Wed to the Devil
"Talia," He says softly, "I know it was never meant to be real between us, but…" he pauses and takes a deep breath before continuing "That doesn't mean there can't be something here."
I swallow thickly, my heart pounding in my chest and fear threatening to overwhelm me. What if I'm wishing for something that can never truly exist?
Taking a risk and hoping for the best, I reach out to touch his cheek hesitantly with my free hand. The warmth radiating from him also fills me with courage and hope and I force myself to keep looking into his eyes even though my cheeks are flushing red.
"Maybe," I whisper out loud before pulling away slightly to break the intensity of our gaze. I can't quite bring myself to say the words out loud, but Dare seems to understand me nonetheless. His hand gives mine a reassuring squeeze before he steps out of the car.
I follow his lead, stepping out of the car and hearing the chauffeur's low murmur of greeting. I can still feel Dare's hand around mine, but I don't have time to react as he leads me towards the front door of the manor. The house is gorgeous, like something out of a fairy tale. It has a sprawling front lawn that looks like it hasn't been cut in decades. The house itself is ivy-covered, the bricks a pale shade of red, the shutters and trim a faded white.
The estate is a sprawling, palatial mansion with a horseshoe staircase leading up to a multi-story glass atrium. The stairs and surrounding landings have wrought iron railings. The mansion is surrounded with a white picket fence and the front door is surrounded by a few stone statues of Greek Gods.
We enter the Morgan estate, and I can hardly keep my hands from trembling. I force myself to remember the bodyguards Frick and Frack are just behind us, that Dare is here with me, looking out for me. But it's hard to shake off the memories of the last time I was here—when Burn cornered me in a secret passageway and tried to kill me.
My heart is pounding as we make our way deeper into the manor. Here, everything is clean and fresh and new, from the hardwood floors to the bold modern sculptures. I hesitate as we approach the entrance. "What’s wrong?” Dare asked. "I don't know if I can go inside that house," I reply, my voice barely audible. He smiles and it chills me to the bone. It reminds me of the glint of a dagger just before it slashes and stabs. "I dare someone to fuck with you tonight. I hope Burn pulls some shit so I can beat the fuck out of him in front of Remy and the rest of the clan." He catches my hand, kisses my palm, and then starts pulling me toward the house with an almost manic cheer. "Come on, darling girl, let’s go."
Dare does not let go of me as we make our way up the stairs, and I'm not about to stop him. We enter the house and are immediately immersed in a large number of people, all dressed in immaculate suits and little black dresses. It is, after all, a cocktail party.
People are dancing slowly and swaying under twinkling lights. Black, white, and gray is standard, but an occasional color highlights a woman’s dress or a man’s tie. Men and women stand in small groups, laughing and chatting with each other. They drink from glasses of ice water and hold trays of appetizers, like sushi, proffered on white china plates.
I smell expensive perfume and cologne wafting from the crowd, the sweet floral notes of scents mingling together in a fog of alcohol and excess. Eau de cologne and perfume, leather and alcohol, and sweat.
It's impossible to escape the pounding rhythm of drum and bass filling the air as people sway along to the music. The babble of hundreds of voices permeates the air.
"Here we go," Dare says softly, gesturing for me to walk ahead of him through the well-dressed crowd of people. I take a deep breath before beginning my descent into the unknown darkness below us.
We make our way through the crowd and enter a larger, more formal room. I gasp in awe as I take in the ornate décor that surrounds us. Velvet drapes hang from the walls and dyed silk pillows are scattered on plush couches. I notice a few of Remy Morgan's billionaire cronies are here, along with the entire extended Morgan family. I see Burn, Daisy, and Dare's father, Tripp. The only person missing is Dare's uncle Felix.
No doubt he's skulking in the shadows somewhere just out of sight.
The room suddenly falls silent as Remy makes his entrance. He is an elderly man, white-haired and wearing a tuxedo. He has the same piercing blue eyes as my husband and uses them to skewer people. People duck out of his way as he cuts a tunnel into the room, unperturbed by the sudden hush that has fallen upon the partygoers.
Remy soon walks right up to us. "The prodigal son returns. The last I heard, you were spending your honeymoon down at St. Barts."
"Happy Birthday, old man." Dare says, ignoring Remy's taunts. He pats Remy on the arm and then slides his hand around my waist.
Remy pins me with his icy gaze. He puckers his lips and I'm sure that he's about to say something about my pregnancy. But then he just flicks me a smile and turns away to greet someone else who has just arrived at the party.
"Remy! How are you this fine evening?" Burn shakes Remy's hand with both of his, pasting on the fakest smile I've ever seen.
Burn is suave and charming as usual but I notice a hint of malice behind each word he speaks to Remy. It causes Dare's grip on my arm to tighten almost imperceptibly, like warning me not to trust this guy one bit.
Like I need Dare to remind me of that,I think.
As they exchange words it almost feels like they're on opposite ends of a battlefield - both trying desperately not to let their anger show while maintaining their composure and dignity in front of everyone else attending the party.
Dare whispers in my ear as we watch them cautiously size each other up: "I dare him to fuck with me tonight." His words send a shiver down my spine - I can sense the raw intensity beneath them. Smoothing down my black silk dress, I turn my face upward to him for a kiss. Dare gives me a peck on the lips, his eyes never leaving his brother.
Damn, that usually works as a good distraction.
That's when Remy starts moving. He floats through the room and a ripple of people move back to get out of his way. He's wearing a cruel smile.
He looks like a walking corpse, but he's surprisingly agile for someone in his eighties. His skin is wrinkled and looks like crumpled paper. His lips are dried and cracked, making it look like he hasn't had water in days.
His white hair is thinning from the top; his blue eyes are half-lidded, looking at me through a layer of cataracts.
I'm not fooled for a second by his appearance, though. I know there is a dangerous predator underneath the cardigans and the thick horn-rimmed glasses. He's one of the calculating men I've ever met, with a knack for sniffing out opportunities and exploiting them to his advantage.
I can see the calculating gleam in Remy's eye as he sees Dare and Burn. They're pieces on a chessboard to him, and each of his moves is carefully thought out. Not to mention his venomous speech is as toxic as a superfund site.