Sacha could only pray she and Alekzander were able to deal with each other as adults and do what was best for their child.
Having kept him in her periphery, she was fully aware when a stunning blonde sidled up to him. With her heart climbing into her throat, Sacha watched from the corner of her eye as Alekzander accepted what looked to be a key. He smiled and pocketed it while the beauty in the green dress patted his arm. They moved out of sight, and so badly did she want to look to see if they were leaving together, but she didn’t. Was it a hotel room key? An apartment key?
Two more couples stopped to say hello to Justin, and Sacha smiled through the familiar soul-deep sickness once more consuming her.
“Excuse me.”
Everyone but her paused and turned. She waited, hoping he wasn’t about to do what she was afraid he was about to do.
“Sacha?”
With her muscles aching from how stiffly she was holding herself, she slowly pivoted until she was facing her daughter’s father who’d just arranged to meet up with one of his women by accepting the key to her bloody hotel room.
“Yes, Alekzander?” she pushed out as the scabs were ripped clean off wounds that would never heal.
His lips were turned up in a social smile, but it had an edge to it that clearly warned he was not to be screwed with. “Dance with me?”
♦ ♦ ♦
Alek knew he was dressed just as the others were, but he also knew there was something off about him. It showed in the way the men shifted and grew wary when he joined them. Also in the way the women’s eyes brightened when they sensed the threat.
He put his hand out to Sacha. “Come,” he murmured, his voice smooth but shadowed with something dark.
“No, thank you.” Utter loathing coated her refusal.
He dropped his arm. “Okay. We can talk here. Sixteen months ago—”
“Stop it,” she said through a clenched jaw.
“Then dance with me.”
She looked from him to Justin and Alek felt his rage spike when she didn’t take his once more outstretched hand until Sheppard nodded.
Gripping her fingers hard enough to make her gasp, he led—dragged—her to the middle of the dance floor and drew her stiff form against him. She pulled back, trying to turn their embrace into a social, we’re-strangers type of thing. He didn’t let her. No. He pulled her in until their bodies were flush. He placed one of her hands around his neck and the other he clasped and curled his wrist around so that her palm was pressed tight to his pounding heart. She resisted.
“If you don’t relax, I’ll cause the type of scene that will have you blushing for a goddamn week. Swear to God it’ll be so indecent we’ll make the lead story on whatever media form is in attendance.”
She softened against him immediately, and he moaned at the feel of her. Couldn’t even give a fuck that she heard him.
“If I ever see you seek permission from that cocksucker again, I don’t care what it’s for, you’ll regret it.”
“Fuck you.”
He couldn’t have been more surprised if she hauled off and punched him in the face. A laugh escaped before he could swallow it. She glared up at him with those mischievously slanted eyes and Alek forgot she was showing him her displeasure. All he got from the look was the connection.
“You are hurting me.”
He loosened his grip on her waist, even though he knew she couldn’t be in pain. He’d held her a hell of a lot tighter than this a time or two. If fact, he’d gripped her hard enough to leave marks as he’d positioned her and found his pleasure in her willing body.
“Forgive me. I’m in defense mode,” he added in explanation. “If you’d like to change that, tell the boyfriend to fuck off. That’ll calm me down.”
She looked at him as if she couldn’t believe he’d just said that. “I will do no such thing just to appease you. Maybe you should visit a psychiatrist or something. Learn how to control yourself. It might help in all aspects of your life, you jerk.” She kicked his ankle. She actually pulled her foot back and kicked his fucking ankle.
Goddammit, he loved this woman. He preferred her submissive, but every once in a while, to have her meet his aggression like this was one hell of a turn-on.
“You’ve become a mercurial little thing, haven’t you?”
Her jaw rippled. “Why did you want this dance, Alekzander? To pair it with the meaningless conversation we had this morning? What do you want with me?”
“I want everything with you.”
She stared over his shoulder, her face like stone. Ten minutes ago, when she’d first seen him, she’d looked almost happy. “What happened?”