Page 132 of Stand: Part One

But it wasn’t better. If only champagne could act as a decent painkiller with the meds I took earlier for the inflammation in my hip. All that dancing and fucking the night before had really done a number on me, and Darren’s preference in footwear tonight wasn’t exactly helping. I groaned internally at my weakness. I needed to get my shit together already.

Allowing my eyes to travel, I followed the sound of smooth yet rhythmic classical music being played by some incredibly skilled musicians, setting the scene for a soft evening. Couples twirled along the dance floor, moving in rhythm with the music.

What was this charity even for?

Darren cut my assessment short when he took my empty glass and placed it next to his on the bar. Taking my hand, he brought it up to his mouth and gently kissed my knuckles, his sensual dark blues locking with mine.

“Dance with me,” he said, a devious grin curving his lips. Naturally, it wasn’t a request

Ugh.

“Did we not just learn a valuable lesson last night about my dancing?” I chided as I pointlessly tried to pull my hand back. He kept it trapped in his own but lowered it to a more comfortable height. “I don’t want to cause another distraction.”

Darren smirked as he glanced down at my left hand, fingering my wedding rings. The same ones I had to scrub with a spare toothbrush last night to get all the dried blood out from between the stones.

“As long as you’re dancing with me, I’ll allow it,” he clarified, swinging his heated gaze back up to mine.

Darren didn’t wait for a response as he took my hand, wrapped it around his arm, and led me to the dance floor. I felt my nerves grate as my heels clicked against the hard surface, and I suddenly realized why this was so jarring.

The dress I was wearing, with sleeves long enough to cover my wrist tattoos. The embellished fabric around my throat to conceal the bruises from Darren’s hand when he almost strangled me to death just days ago. My hair and makeup professionally done. All of it added for one single purpose—to enhance the performance.

While this was a private event, I got the impression that it catered to a much more “lawful” crowd. People who were legitimate and didn’t secretly run criminal trafficking empires behind closed doors. Yet here we were, about to waltz right in like we belonged here. Like Darren was one of them.

It reminded me that even he was not immune to the required performances of society if he wanted to maintain an upstanding appearance outside of the criminal underworld he ruled.

The wolf in sheep’s clothing.

As we approached the dance floor, I recognized the song they started playing, the pretty strings of “Aurora” by Lindsey Stirling playing in the background. I had a playlist of just her music that I loved to swing my bo to, the flow of everything so damn relaxing I could go on for hours without even noticing.

Quietly releasing a deep breath, I allowed Darren to pull my body into his and immersed myself into the performance alongside a dozen other dancing couples.

Smooth as water, he twirled me around the dance floor like he was made for it. He moved with a practiced ease, allowing me to follow his lead without effort or strain.

Even in the three-inch heels that barely allowed me to see over his shoulder, I glided over the floor without missing a beat. My body was automatically in tune with his, easily matching his pace and rhythm despite the dull ache in my hip.

For one small moment, I actually forgot about the performance and willingly spiraled away into whatever direction Darren chose to spin me.

When the song ended, the room stopped, an applause replacing the music as Darren twirled me for the last time, then pulled me into his chest. The clapping continued long after we stopped, and as I looked over, I noticed too many faces focused intently on us instead of the musicians.

“Why are they staring at us?” I asked quietly, nervous of the sudden attention.

“They’re staring at you,” Darren answered, almost smugly.

I frowned, glancing up at him. “What? Why?”

A warm grin curled up his lips. “When you look and move the way you do, how could they not?” He said it like he understood the compulsion, like he could sympathize with someone for once.

But they couldn’t just be staring at me. My gaze quickly hunted for my convictions, hoping he had to be wrong. And he was, catching the hungry looks of some of the other women in the crowd as they sized Darren up. And not so subtly either.

If they only knew.

Darren leaned down so that his mouth was touching my ear. “They’re all fantasizing about you right now, and I have half a mind to lay you out on this floor so they can watch me fuck you until you’re screaming my name and coming all over my cock.” His words made me suck in a breath, anxiously holding it to avoid reacting. “By the time I’m done, there would be no doubts left in their minds that you’re fucking mine.”

Without pause, he wrapped his hand around the back of my neck and kissed me like he was starving. His threatening words sent a shiver down my spine that made me hunch from the chill, my stomach clenching with apprehension.

It wouldn’t be the first time he fucked me in public, but it would be the first time with an actual audience.

When he finally pulled back, I could feel my lips swelling from the harsh flavor of his obsession, the taste of possession still lingering on my tongue.