Rouge: Act 3 – Scene 31

Kian

Lacey’s eyes flick to the hallway, where I wait for her in the shadows. I’m standing behind the bunched curtain the club uses during performances to keep the lights from interfering with the production.

The dressing rooms backstage would’ve been the better choice, but I didn’t want to subject her to what was a crime scene mere weeks ago. Thankfully, attendees to parties like this are wholly absorbed with themselves and they haven’t been paying attention to my comings and goings anyway.

Which has made for some interesting eavesdropping.

Everywhere I’ve been tonight, I’ve heard rumblings about New York and families in the Northeast. I can’t identify everyone in attendance due to their masks, and I’m wondering if that was Monroe’s intent all along.

Before this morning, I would’ve never guessed that he had more than the O’Shea’s backing. But today, he insinuated that there were many families who were against our marriage from the start. Have his ties in the Northeast somehow helped him steal power in the Garde?

Fecking hell, I have to fix this. Lacey is in too much danger and too close to the problem to find answers herself.

I’m silently begging her to come to me when Roxana sparks a conversation with the group. I smirk at the sight of the men’s frustration and the women’s mortification over a woman speaking out of turn, but I know a diversion when I see one.

Lacey squeezes from the crowd and slowly meanders her way toward me. Even as my heart races to be alone with her, alarm bells go off in my mind at her careful gait. She usually glides everywhere she goes, her balance and dancer’s body working with gravity and the air around her to make everything she does look effortless. But she’s hunched tonight and her steps are too measured to be natural.

Something is very wrong, and I need to get to the bottom of it. She’s sober tonight, so I know her deliberate steps aren’t because of alcohol. I don’t know what’s happened in the past twenty-four hours, and that all-too-brief waltz gave me more questions than answers.

I shouldn’t have asked her to dance with me, but goddamn, it felt bloody fecking good to have my wife in my arms again… until I realized she was in pain. Her suppressed whimpers nearly made me sick, and I can’t part with her again without knowing what—or who—has hurt her.

She’s finally close enough that I know she can see me, so I turn around to travel down the hallway until I reach the coat closet at the end. I slip inside before softly closing the door and it takes a minute for my eyes to adjust to the light peeking through the cracks in the doorframe.

Once they become accustomed to the darkness, I can make out the extravagant furs and long coats hanging in several rows. There’s a metal chair between the first two clothing racks, but I pace impatiently in front of it, unable to sit still as my mind races.

Nausea taints the back of my throat at the fear that we’ll jump into this godforsaken loop again. I’m going to demand she leaves with me. She’s going to insist on staying. I’ll have to agree, so she doesn’t blame me as the arsehole who gets her father killed. Then my heart will break as I watch her leave and I’ll go on worrying whether I’ll ever be able to save her without making her hate me, too.

But this time is even more infuriating than all the rest. I’m potentially hours away from Merek texting me that we’ve finally got some answers, but I know nothing will be good enough for her until they’re in my grasp.

I stuff my hand in my pocket and brush my fingers over the frayed edges of the queen of diamonds card there. Ever since my father made her my mark, I’ve kept it in the breast pocket of my suit. But I learned my lesson when I didn’t have my chip earlier today, so I’m using it as a replacement to keep me calm for the likes of Monroe Baron. It’ll wear the card even more, but I’m hoping it can hold out a wee bit longer.

“Hello?” Lacey’s voice is muffled by the row of coats as she closes the door. “I-I can’t see.”

I emerge around the first layer of coats to retrieve her and wrap my hand around her wrist.

“It’s me,” I murmur so I don’t startle her and gently guide her between the two rows with me.

When she’s finally in front of me, the light seeping from the cracks of the closed door is bright enough to see her blue eyes shine with unshed tears.

“Christ, what has he done to you?”

“Nothing. It’s just period cramps and it’s making me emotional.” She shakes her head, but her voice wobbles as she whispers, “Y-you said you have something in motion. Please tell me I only have to do this one more night. I don’t know how much longer I can go through this—”

Before she can say anything else, I’m hugging her against me. Her sweet floral scent fills my nostrils as she wraps her hands around my back and clutches my suit jacket like a lifeline.

Fecking hell, I’ve known this woman for mere weeks and I’d already kill for her in a heartbeat. In fairness, it didn’t even take that long. The world was in danger the moment she first held my hand.

“Tine, you don’t have to do this at all. Come with me. We’ll leave right now. I’ve got a man searching for answers this very moment. He should have some by the end of the night.”

She pulls away from my embrace and looks up, her eyes glittering like diamonds from the moisture.

“So you don’t have anything yet?”

My teeth clench and it’s a wonder they haven’t cracked to pieces yet. “I will at any second.”

“But not yet.” She breathes deeply. “Okay… okay, you don’t have answers yet. But you will. One more night of lies. I… I can do that.”

My chest caves in as my prediction starts to come true.

“You’re coming with me. No more of this. You can’t go back there.”

“Do you know your man will find something?”

“I’m sure he will—”

“That’s a no. Which means I can’t go with you yet! Listen, I know you’re worried for me, but I saw my father in that hospital bed. Monroe showed me his picture. I have to get him out.”

“What if you’re the next one in a hospital bed?” My voice quakes as I confess my worst nightmare aloud, but I try to hit it home with my suspicions. “I know the authorities think they’ve caught the suspect, but what if Monroe was actually behind that woman getting murdered here in Rouge? I read people. It’s what I do and I’m bloody good at it. I don’t think the case is as cut and dry as they say it is.”

She’s slow to shake her head, and she shudders in my arms. When she finally speaks, her voice has less strength, almost as if she doesn’t believe the words herself.

“Th-that’s just paranoia. The Baron won’t kill me, but he will hurt my father, again and again unless we save him. My dad could die behind bars and I can’t live knowing that I could’ve stopped it by being patient for just one more night.”

“And you’re dying inside. I can’t live knowing I caused that. I feel like I’m losing you right before my eyes and I can’t take it. I want you safe in our home. I can’t stand by and watch this anymore.”

“I-it’s fine. We just need to be patient and before you know it, we’ll be back in bed doing all the things you want.” She tries to laugh, but I don’t give in to her attempt at deflection.

“That’s not what this is about.” I grab the strands of my hair and pull in frustration as I try to get through to her. “I’m in love with you, don’t you see that? Don’t you feel it? Going back to him is killing you and it’s killing me. Why do you keep insist—”

Creeping doubt of what I hope is true paranoia kicks in and I ask the question before I can stop myself.

“You don’t want this. Do you? Do you want to be with Monroe?”

“What? No, of course not. I hate this, too! But please, see what you find in twenty-four hours. Hopefully, it’ll be only one more night.”

I bite my tongue almost to the point of tasting blood. The only reason I stop is because her hands cup my face and bring me down for a kiss. I grab her wrists and shake my head.

“No, Lacey. Now’s not the time—”

“Please,” she whispers against my lips. “I need this. Just one more kiss until I see you again. You’re my freedom and I’m about to lock myself back into a cage. Let me taste freedom again.”

I’d rather throw her over my shoulder and say feck the Garde, her father, and Monroe. But when my wife asks me for a kiss of freedom, I give it to her.

Her soft lips caress mine and I can’t hold back anymore. Her tongue plays with the seam of my mouth and the touch is all we need to give us both permission to lose ourselves.

My hands glide down her sides and I’m about to pick her up, but she gently pushes my chest until the chair behind me touches my calves.

I settle into the seat and shove the flowing skirt of her ball gown up to help her straddle me. The fabric flows around my legs and her core heats my cock through my pants. My hands roam over her bare skin to wrap my fingers around her outer thighs and I tug her closer to me. She grips the back of my head, and her fingernails scratch my neck hard enough to mark me, reminding me of the new ink I have on my forearm.

For once, I’m letting her take command. She grinds against my cock and I thrust to meet her center at the same slow, rolling, deliberate rhythm she’s set. Under her control, our tongue strokes are long and sensual, with more feeling behind them than we’ve ever had between us before. But there’s something in it that feels… final. I’ll savor this kiss as long as I can, but the world be damned if it’s our last.

A rumbling sound stills us both. She leans away and as I stand, I grip her by the hips to gently pick her up and place her behind me in case someone comes in.

We wait several hushed moments until a group of women breaks into laughter next door, and my tense muscles finally relax.

“It came from the women’s bathroom,” she exhales and my fear leaves with her breath of relief. “Shit, that was close. I should get back—”

“Now?” I turn around to face her. “What if someone heard us?”

“It was those girls. Besides, with an open liquor bar, people are probably too drunk by now to know their names. I’ll wait until we hear the ladies’ bathroom door open and then I’ll go too.” She grabs my face and whispers harshly. “Listen, I’ll be fine. I swear.”

“No matter what you say to me, wife, I’m not letting you walk down the aisle with another man.” My vow is more forceful than I intended, but I don’t relent

She nods. “I… I won’t walk down the aisle with him.”

“Promise me.”

“I promise. Only one more night.”

“One more night…” I rip at my hair with one hand while the other balls into a fist. “Goddammit. I don’t want to do this.”

“But you will. For me. Won’t you? Please? You being a part of this has been the only thing to sustain me. I can’t do this without you.”

“I don’t want you to be doing this at all!” I hiss.

Her posture straightens and her lips tighten as she slowly takes one step backward, opening a chasm of space between us. For one brief moment, I lost my temper, and with it, I lost any ability to persuade her to leave with me. She’s not giving in.

“I’ve got to go, Kian.”

She doesn’t kiss me goodbye this time and I let her leave before me. I can’t go first because I’d be incapable of leaving her behind. But she doesn’t have the same problem as she goes out the door without a glance back.

I collapse in the chair and yank at my hair, willing myself not to feel betrayed, to trust that she’s making the right decision, and praying that Merek finds the smoking gun. After I’ve collected my breaths, I finally leave. The hallway is empty when I come out. But the ballroom is still bustling when I enter it.

My eyes are drawn to Lacey immediately, but her attention is fixed on Monroe, a placid facade pasted on her face so securely that I wonder if she’ll be able to take it off again. Monroe’s sister and Mrs. O’Shea wear similar expressions. The women in this ballroom didn’t need to buy masks for the masquerade theme. They could’ve just used the ones they’ve worn since the day they were born.

While I watch, I get a bottle of water and mill about to avoid sulking in the corner and gathering suspicion. She never once looks at me. Every second away from her breaks off piece after piece of me while she shores up her defenses like cinder blocks. She’s excelling at living this lie.

Maybe Lacey O’Shea is meant for this world after all.

My father slowly drifts over to stand by my side. Neither of us is supposed to be here, but there are too many people for the O’Shea and subpar Baron bodyguards to keep track of. I’ve already suspected these masks helped Monroe sneak in some non-Garde member allies, but at least it’s helped the McKennons scope out our enemies as well.

“You’re staring,” he reminds me, but I don’t give a feck.

“I can’t do this anymore, Dad. I need her back with me.”

“Don’t lose sight. If what you think is true, then we’ve been going after the wrong family for too long. Let this play out. Any news from your man?”

“Not a word yet,” I grumble, checking my mobile anyway. There are no new notifications and I shove it back into my pocket. “Still nothing.”

“Then be patient. You’ve waited a year for this woman. You can wait one more night.”

I huff out a breath and scowl at Monroe behind my mask until Maeve’s eyes catch mine. Trying not to bring attention to myself, I slowly turn away to face my father.

“One more night,” I finally agree. “But no matter what, tomorrow, she’s mine again.”