Page 4 of The Games We Play (Balance of Power #3)
SEAMUS
“ M imi?”
Her name bounces off the walls between us.
For a brief moment, I’m confused. I think I’m dreaming, being that I’ve previously questioned whether or not she was real. She disappeared, and when I tried to find her, it was like she was never there. I drove myself crazy for so long, wondering if I actually conjured up everything between us.
And now, she’s here. Right in fucking front of me.
Her head tilts as her eyes squint through the mask. I step forward, bringing myself closer to her and into the small stream of light peering out from the open doorway.
As the light hits my face, her mouth falls open and her eyes widen.
“Seamus,” she whispers with shaky breath.
It was real.
She is real.
The feathers on the top of her mask flutter with the movement of her neck as her eyes bounce around the crowded space between us, taking in her surroundings.
“What are you doing here?” I ask as I step toward her. Aligning my body with hers, I trap her between me and the end of the hallway.
“I was just curious, that’s all.” She pushes herself further into the wall as her eyes glance over to the door, still slightly ajar, then back to me.
“No. What are you doing here ?” I ask with more urgency, stepping closer.
Her eyebrows twitch with confusion.
If she is here, she’s a member of X-Connect. She is a member of a website that you share your sexual desires and kinks with, so that you can find partners to explore with.
She’s a fucking member.
Rage explodes from every corner of my body, and my fists clench so tightly my knuckles burn.
The glossy material of her dress shimmers in the light with the rise and fall of her chest. Her breathing is heavy and deep, and I can see the panic radiating from every inch of her lavish body.
Her eyes look between mine, but she can’t hold the stare.
She glances behind me, I’m guessing to look for an exit, but she’s not going anywhere.
“Where have you been?” I reach up, placing my palm on the wall behind her, caging her in. “Where did you go?”
It’s been years since I’ve seen her—other than in my dreams—despite multiple attempts to find her. She’s the only one I could never find. It was like she wasn’t ever real. A figment of my fucking imagination.
The confused look she’s displaying morphs into anger.
“ Me ?” she accuses. “Where did I go? Where did you go?” She presses her palms into my chest, and tries to push me back, but I don’t budge. “ You left!” The anguish behind her voice as it cracks is powerful and real.
The accusation makes me flinch.
It was more than ten years ago, since that two weeks at camp. Ten years of wondering what happened to her. Ten years beating myself up for not being able to find her. Ten years of wondering if I was insane.
And she thinks I would fucking leave her intentionally?
“You left…you just left me there.” Her voice is a harsh whisper that slashes through me worse than any wound I’ve ever had.
“Mimi—” Before I can finish, she slaps me. Hard. Her palm feels like tiny razor blades that pierce my skin, and the sensation rips through my entire body.
I step back, confused. I’m so fucking confused. My gaze is trained on the ground, attempting to recap every goddamn memory as I question the last night I saw her. But I don’t need to. It’s been branded to my memory and comes to me easily in daily flashbacks.
I know what happened between us.
My eyes trail her body slowly, from the ground, up her silky, muscular legs, between each side of her hips, onto the olive skin that peeks through the middle of the opening of her dress.
Jesus, she’s so beautiful .
She’s everything I remember, and still better than I ever imagined her to be.
I step forward, reaching to cup her face. She steps forward, and for a moment I think she’s doing the same—until her hands land on top of each side of my shoulders and she kicks her knee up directly between my legs, nailing me in the balls.
“Fuck,” I grunt out as my teeth grind together. I fall to my knees as I buckle to the ground. I was not fucking ready for that. My eyes squeeze shut for a moment as I curse through the pain bursting through every cell in my body.
Slowly, I open my eyes, but my vision is distorted, blurred beyond any recognition. I push myself up off the floor, just to stumble down again. Jesus, she couldn’t have centered that more perfectly.
I finally get to my feet and peer down the hallway.
She’s already through the black curtain barrier, and as I run toward it, I hear the distant moans of the people inside the voyeur rooms. They are much louder than they were earlier, but they’re easy to ignore this time with my new objective.
I crane my neck over the crowd to see a row of feathers turning the corner into the main lobby area.
I push my way through the horde of people. It’s so much more crowded now, and I suddenly hate my size. 6’2, broad shouldered, and wide framed is great for security. Not great when chasing a petite, five foot nothing, professional ball kicker.
Rounding the corner, I peer over at the bar, then scan the room as I continue pacing toward the entrance.
I don’t see her anywhere, and when I face forward, I run straight into Hudson, who’s grabbing me by the shoulders.
He pulls me back, trying to get my attention, but it’s nowhere other than surveying the room, looking for her.
“Did you see her?” I snap.
“Who?”
“Mi…the woman—the woman in white.”
“Shay,” he calls me by my nickname with concern. “What’s going on, man?”
“Did she pass through here?” I shout, staring directly at him now. I’m fucking serious. Why doesn’t he see how fucking serious this is? Aren’t best friends supposed to be able to read you better?
“Yes, she was heading to the front door, I think she left.” Now he tells me. For being a professional baseball catcher, he’s pretty fucking terrible at actually catching things.
“Shit.” I push him aside and run toward the front, circling around the waterfall barrier that separates the lobby from the club, and push through the double doors.
It’s dark out, but the exterior lights are brighter than the interior of the club, and I’m momentarily blinded as my eyes adjust. The line is longer now, the protestors are rowdier, and there are more police officers.
I realize I’ve missed out on everything happening at the club by her distraction, but I really don’t give a shit. My eyes roam the parking lot, the mob of people, the paparazzi, and nothing.
“Fuck.” I run my hands through my hair. “Fuck!” Shouting louder this time.
Stepping back I look through the entrance doors and see a couple checking in, showing their IDs. I glance back out to the crowd, and freeze.
She had to show her ID to get in.
I storm back inside and wave off the guy sitting at the computer he’s not using.
With urgency, he stands and removes himself, his eyes looking everywhere but at me.
I observe the other girl who is checking in the couple. She scans the ID and a copy appears on her screen.
I can’t help but internally grin recalling this suggestion that I made to Ember’s team. Because of that, they require ID verification of members, and I’m internally patting myself on the back for it.
I cycle through the members that have all checked in, aggressively hitting the button as I skim over each ID that pops up. My blood pressure rises over the never ending review. ID after ID comes through, but none of them are her.
“If I don’t fucking find her, I swear—” Then I freeze. My breath is quite literally ripped from my body.
Luscious, black hair, a bright, diamond-like smile and those gorgeous, mysterious, dark eyes stare back at me.
Relief blankets me until I see her name.
Naomi Masumi.
I never had her last name, so searching for Mimi was literally impossible. I tried every avenue when I gained any resource to do so, and still nothing. But now it all makes sense, because I never even knew her legal name.
Not even her real fucking first name.
“Naomi Masumi,” I whisper to myself as I inspect her ID.
5’3, 130 pounds, and she lives right here in Seattle.
I snap a picture of the screen with my phone, and shut off the computer.
Alright Naomi, let’s see what you’ve been up to.