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I sigh, loudly. "I'll try, okay?"
He reaches over and places his hand on the back of mine, and the shakes come, uninvited. I can't hide them, and he doesn't move his hand, though it wobbles from the force of my own.
"Lily, why do you shake when people touch you?" His voice is barely a whisper.
"Please, take your hand off me . . . " I say as gently as possible through gritted teeth. Blake's touch is strange. It's warm and inviting, but doesn't fully penetrate the all-consuming fear that radiates through me.
He moves his hand back to his leg, and stares at me, waiting. "Lily . . . please."
"I had a fucked up childhood, okay? Leave it at that."
"Okay. I'm not trying to upset you."
"It's fine. Aside from that, what do you want to know?"
"Hmm, what's your favorite color?" He smiles.
I chuckle bitterly, shaking my head as I turn to face him. "I don't have one actually."
"What? How do you not have a favorite color?" Shock floods his face and I can't help but grin.
"I work for Interpol. It isn't like we get colorful outfits for assignments, Blake."
"Oh, that sounds amazing. I've been waiting to hear it again since the night at line-dancing," he says in a husky tone, his eyes smoldering.
"What sounds good?" I raise my eyebrows.
"The way you say my name."
†††
The money flashing, pompous assholes mingling in the ballroom are nauseating. They make Blake seem like a saint. I'm scanning the room, my arm shaking in the crook of his elbow. His hand is over mine, and he glances down at me often.
"Mr. Mason, a photo, please," says a nerdy kid wearing a Baltimore Sun badge.
"Of course."
I try to remove my hand from his arm, and he shifts, putting his arm around my shoulder, snuggling me closer to his side. The kid snaps several pictures, moving to his left and right, changing the angle of each shot. I try to smile and hide the seizure worthy convulsions racking through me.
"Thank you, Mr. Mason, and Miss . . . "
"Williams," I say tightly.
Blake squeezes me gently, another round of shakes rippling through my body.
"Lily, how you holding up?" Jax's voice echoes through my ear-piece.
I turn my head toward Blake's chest as if I'm nuzzling up to him, bringing the communicator-watch close to my mouth by running my hand up his chest. "I'm fine, Jax. This fucking blows."
"I know. You're doing great, just keep smiling."
Blake smiles down at me, but it doesn't reach his eyes. I answer with a smirk and he rolls his eyes, chuckling.
"Are you up to something?"
"Why would you think that, Mr. Mason?"
"Don't be obtuse, Lily. I know that smile already."