Power Switch (Power Play #3) - Kennedy L. Mitchell Page 0,51
slight tilt of his head, he whispers something to Jessica and then moves through the crowd in the direction he'd just indicated, leaving her behind.
My heart races. The glass between my fingers trembles. Careful to not spill a drop, I secure my palm over the top of flute.
“I'll be right back,” I say to Sam. I take a step only for my next to be halted. Turning, I look between his hand around my elbow and his face.
“Do not leave without me, Randi.” Lips pursed, he shakes his head. “It worried me the last time you did that and I couldn’t find you.”
Whoops. Okay, yeah, he does have reason to be concerned. Last week I bounced from a party without telling him because I just couldn't take it anymore. One more minute faking it and I was going to crack and show everyone just how crazy I really am.
Which is scary because I don't even know the extent of my crazy. It seems to get deeper with each passing year. Probably something I should work on containing, but, meh, next year. Maybe when I'm forty, things will even out and I'll be just as normal as normal can be.
Or maybe fifty. It can be a stretch goal.
“Sixty seems like a good age.”
“What are you talking about, Randi?”
I smile to Sam. “Nothing, and noted that I’m not to leave unless I send you a text.”
“Not. At. All.” His eyes narrow like he's trying to make a point.
“You know, you give off this bad guy vibe with your dark hair, tattoos, and emotionless face, but I see through you.”
“Oh?” he asks, clearly amused.
“Yep.”
“Go, Randi,” he says with a confused smile. “I'll be doing our espionage job alone while you're gone.”
Two fingers to my brow, I give him a mock salute.
What the fuck is wrong with me and my damn hands? Do they plot to embarrass me?
Grumbling my annoyance at myself, I shift through the crowd. Halfway through the crowded room, a hand wraps around my bicep, tugging me backward.
“Trailer,” Shawn says behind me. “We need to talk.”
Like Sarah trained me, I use my weight to yank the arm from his grasp. Surprise flairs behind his evil eyes before vanishing as quickly as it came.
“No we don't.” A few guests flick nervous glances between us. Remembering my role, I try for my best smile, knowing it's more of a grimace at this point. “If you'll excuse me, I need to go piss.” Fuck. A few women gasp, their French-tipped fingers lightly pressed to their painted lips. “Sorry. I need to find the toilet.” Oh hell.
Not wanting to say anything else that will lower their already devastatingly low opinions of me, I turn quickly and move toward the door Trey walked through what feels like hours ago. Before exiting the room, I rest the full glass of champagne on a side table. Nerves riding high, I swipe both hands down the front of my red dress and step into the hallway, inspecting to the left, then the right. Both directions are empty. The hope of seeing Trey deflates, leaving only the aching pain of my kidneys being pushed to the front of my body by the torture contraption strangling my waist.
“Turn right,” T says behind me.
After having him at my side for so long, sometimes I forget he’s even there. Not turning, I smile at the opposite wall. “Thanks, T.”
The stiletto heels make zero sound as I make my way down the dimly lit hall, anticipation rising with each step. The overhead chandeliers—because who doesn’t have chandeliers in their hallway?—give off a soft glow, casting shadows in every corner and disappearing altogether into the few empty ballrooms. I pass one darkened room only to pause at the sight of movement. I cast an apprehensive glance into the darkness.
Out of the shadows, Trey materializes. He extends a single hand, palm up. With zero doubts, I smile and take it. As he guides me deeper into the darkness, I mirror his smile. With a small tug, I’m against his chest and being lifted in his arms as he kicks the door shut behind us with the heel of his dress shoe.
“What are you—” The rest of the thought vanishes with the heat of his lips pressing against mine. I forget everything. All the worry, anger, frustration, and disappointment from the past three weeks vaporize with one simple kiss.
His hands skim up my bare back, down my arms, and back again. Mine do the same, enjoying the