The huge chandelier threw a shower of crystal light over the polished floor of the gala of the law firm, its brightness a blazing contrast to the rainy night outside, on the evening of September 13, 2025, the twelfth day the life of Mia had broken on the neon pulse of the dive bar. The atmosphere in the fancy ballroom was hot, damp with the combined odors of costly perfume, old wine, and the slight odor of wood, a refined veneer that concealed the storm that was raging in her. Mia was on the fringe of the crowd, her black dress, a smooth, form-fitting garment with a plunged neckline exposing the tender contour of her cleavage, still wet with the rush through the rain. The cloth glowed in the sunshine, and the eyes she did not want to see gravitated towards it, and her heart beat, a mad beat, which matched the nervous throb of the city behind the high windows. Lucas was next to her and his brush against her and his presence like a rocky anchor, but the memory of Jace touching her the night before flared against her wrist like a phantom fire, a wave of heat and ice, a tide of suits and dresses which swept around her like a tide she could not find a way out of. Mia pulled the slender strand of her dress and her fingers were shaking a bit, as she felt like she was under observation. Lucas leaned close with his breath against her ear and his voice was a low murmur that made her shiver. Thou hast a beauty fair, and in thy eyes a glow of chandelier, which in thy eyes a depth admirableness, and makes thy heart stutter. His hand slipping over to her lower back was a possessive and still loving motion, which, pushing through the material, set fire to a spark that smoldered low in her belly. She had to smile, the lie of their deception heavy on her lips, but her thoughts were with Jace, his obsidian stare, his velvet growl, the promise he had given her with his touch that continued to haunt her dreams. The partners of the firm were mingling, and with their sharp eyes they were examining her, and the gossip that Sarah had alluded to was now pressing upon her like a weight. Maintain the pretense, keep up the pretense, Lucas whispered, and the feel of it, which was so natural, even in pretense, caused her breath to rise and her nipples to stiffen under the thin fabric of the dress. She nodded and came nearer to him, and their bodies were in position, so real that it seemed a danger, and she thought he might have detected the shiver running in her frame, the battle of safety and sin which raged in her. The crowd pushed aside, and a figure stood out of the shadows--Jace, his leather jacket patented to a custom-made suit, which clung to his body, his presence a shock which had paralyzed her. His smirk was a knife, slicing through the grace of it, and her heartbeat rose, a glow, almost a glow, beginning at her cheeks up to her chest, as his eyes met hers. I do not know, he said, his voice half strained, his hand going to her waist as though to cover her. Jace came forward and his stride was confident, the odour of his cologne, a dark musky mixture, came to her before him, and evoked memories of rain-wet streets and forbidden yearning. Evening, lovebirds, evening, he said, and his voice was purring round her, and she felt the warmness of his eyes, how they were unclothing her in front of the crowd. Lucas went in front of her, his figure an obstacle, but Jace never took her eyes off hers, and she felt challenged in silence and her thighs ached and she could not stop herself. She does not look like she wants me to, he retorted, his eyes going to her flushed face, and Mia despised the fact of his words, the manner her body reacted to it against her will. The strain grew, an electric charge and the muttering of the crowd increased, and the population stared at them, and the trick became a scene. One of the partners came up, smiling politely yet looking inquisitive, and Mia was obliged to play the game, and she put her arm through the one of Lucas, so that her fingers pierced his sleeve. It was only a misunderstanding, said, and the music changed to slow, sultry, and she faltered into his arms, the warmth of his body a contrast to the chilly air. His hand was on her hip and he was directing her movements and she could feel the power of his grip and how it held her steady despite the girling of her head. Sell this, he said, and his lips touched her ear, and she said yes, and her hands were slipping over his chest, the stuff of his suit warm to her palms. It was a dance, their bodies were moving together, but the closeness of it—his thigh rubbing against hers, his breath on her neck, set a fire which collided with the guilt of Jace being there. She looked round his shoulder, and saw Jace with a smirk on his face, at the corner of the room, with his eyes dark with promise and her heart shook, a traitor rhythm that forfeited her to her fidelity. The song was over and Lucas took her to a less crowded spot and he still had his hand on her waist, a possessive statement, which startled her. He will not stop, she said, feeling his voice grate with the concern in it, and he shook his head. The feel of Jace, how burning it had been on her wet clothes, was in conflict with Lucas and she questioned how long she could keep this up, how long before the lie would break. An attendant came by with a tray of champagne and she took one of the glasses, the bubbles a distraction as she drank, the chilled substance making no impression in extinguishing the fire that was rising within her. Lucas observed her, and his eyes hunted, and she felt the burden of his attention and his care, and a web in which she could not get, and in which his presence was a life-line. The specter of Jace was there, however, and hung over each look, each footfall, and she knew how thin their camouflage was, how it stood on the brink of being discovered. One of the colleagues came up, a woman smiling knowingly, and Mia flattened her back, the gossip now a living being. You and Lucas are a beautiful couple the woman thought, her voice full of interest, and Mia had to laugh, and she had to squeeze Lucas an arm. Thank you, she said, the lie otherwise easy but dull, and the woman went, leaving behind her a trail of whispers. Lucas drew her close, his lips against her ear. We are all right, he said, but the voice had something in it that she knew and she nodded and her body was responding to his presence and the result was a glow that made her warm despite the chilly room. The music swell filled once more, and he brought her back to the dance floor, and their movements a silent contract, but her thoughts were with Jace, with the way he had stared at her, a kind of chaos which awaited him. The dance had stopped and as the hand of Lucas lingered on her back in a caress that she felt like a shiver and she leaned in to him, to seek the comfort that he gave her, although her mind was deceiving her with thoughts of Jace and his touch, his voice whispering softly and refusing to die. Lucas led her to a balcony, and the cool air was a welcome to her flushed flesh, and they stood still and the neon beat of the city was a faint light beneath them. I dislike him close to you, I said, and his voice was low, and she looked at him, and saw the concern of his eyes, the intensity of his affection. She nodded, her throat constricted and his hand touched hers, his thumb rubbing her knuckles, and this touch held her in place. Yet in the back of her head the smirk on Jace lingered like a shadow that would eventually be a storm she was not sure she could withstand, and she questioned herself how long this thin veneer could stand before it broke.
