Chapter 35
Chapter 35
The dance music began in the adjoining salon. Louis stood with the others and watched the guests separate into groups. David and Constantine drew two infrastructure financiers aside and began speaking in low voices. Judith joined Philip and Maria. Serana and Jacques joined a younger group of local influencers and artists.
Julian Vautrin walked over to Angelique. He stopped before her, offered his hand, and said something quietly in French. Louis could not make out the words. Angelique looked at him. For a moment, Louis thought she might refuse. Instead, she placed her hand in his.
Louis was still standing in place when Gladice came up beside him.
“Don’t stand there like a statue,” she said under her breath. “It makes you look like a boy whose date has been stolen.”
He turned to her. She held out her hand.
“Come on,” she said. “We’re not going to let them have the whole floor.”
She had given him a way out. He took her hand.
The doors to the adjoining salon stood open. A small dance ensemble had replaced the jazz trio, and couples were already forming. Julian led Angelique onto the floor. He placed one hand at her waist and led her into the first measure. She followed without hesitation. Louis’s jaw tightened.
Gladice stepped close and placed one hand on his shoulder. He put his hand at her waist.
“Lower.” She took his wrist and moved his hand lower.
“There,” she said. “Try not to look like you’ve never touched a woman outside a bedroom.”
They began to dance. A week earlier, dancing with Angelique had felt private despite the cameras and the crowd. He remembered the surprise of her hand in his and how closely her movements had matched his. Camera lights had followed them, but for a few minutes he had barely noticed. Tonight, Angelique was dancing with someone else. Each time he looked past Gladice’s shoulder toward Angelique and Julian, his next step came late. Gladice adjusted without comment.
“Stop pulling away,” Gladice said softly.
“I’m not.”
“Yes, you are.”
He made himself look at her. Her dark-blue dress caught the light, and diamonds flashed at her throat. Her eyes stayed on him. She was smiling.
“Much better,” she said. “At least if you look at me, people will assume you have taste.”
He nearly laughed. Gladice guided him through the first turn until Angelique came into view over her shoulder. Julian kept his frame steady without pulling Angelique close. When he said something, she smiled before answering. Julian turned her. Angelique said something in French, and he smiled. He answered, and she laughed.
Louis missed a step. Gladice adjusted and tightened her hand against his shoulder blade.
“There it is,” she murmured. “You see? This is why I wanted to dance with you. You’re much more interesting when your body gives you away.”
He barely recovered in time, and they finished the turn. The other couples continued dancing around them.
“What did he say?” Louis asked before he could stop himself.
Gladice smiled. “Wouldn’t you like to know.”
The first dance ended before his breathing had settled. The guests applauded politely. Some couples remained on the floor. Others returned to their drinks and conversations. Julian walked Angelique back to the edge of the room and continued speaking to her in the same casual tone. That irritated Louis more than open flirting would have.
Gladice released him and took a glass of champagne from a passing tray.
“Come on,” she said, already moving. “You need to stop looking like you’re about to declare a duel.”
He ignored the glass offered to him. Across the room, Angelique turned from Julian to answer an older woman near the doorway. Then she looked at Louis. He thought she knew he had been watching. He could read neither apology nor invitation in her expression. She held his gaze briefly, then turned back to the older woman. Louis immediately thought he might reach her before the next dance began.
Gladice had been watching him.
“That was your mistake.”
He turned. “What?”
She sipped her champagne. “Thinking one dance can still be called politeness.”
She jerked her chin toward the other side of the room. Louis followed her gaze and saw Julian walk over to Angelique and offered his hand as the second piece began. She looked at him for a moment, then set down her empty glass, took his hand, and followed him back onto the floor.
Louis did not move. Gladice stepped in front of him again.
“Well,” she said. “Now they’re doing it on purpose.”
Before he could answer, she took his hand and drew him back into the dance. His timing was wrong from the first measure. He kept one hand at Gladice’s waist and forced himself through the steps. From a distance, he might only have looked distracted. His attention remained across the room.
Gladice noticed.
“You’re late on every turn,” she said.
“I know.”
“No.” Her voice was quieter than before. “You don’t. If you knew, you would be here.”
He looked over her shoulder. Angelique and Julian were dancing near the mirrored panels on the river side of the room. They were speaking less. Julian turned her, and she returned to his hand without hesitation.
Louis realized he was gripping Gladice’s waist.
“Careful,” she said.
“You’re enjoying this.”
“Yes.”
They moved into a slower figure. Gladice came closer and spoke near his ear.
“You don’t hate him for speaking French,” she said. “You hate him because he doesn’t have to try.”
He said nothing.
Her breath was warm against his neck. “Or maybe you hate him because you know what it looks like when Angelique actually lets someone lead.”
They turned again. This time Louis did not even pretend he was not watching. Julian said something too low for him to hear. Angelique looked away, then back at Julian, and smiled.
He stepped wrong again.
Gladice corrected the step, but her grip tightened.
“Enough.”
Gladice guided him off the floor at an unhurried pace, making it look like they had chosen to end the dance early. He went with her. The song ended, and the guests applauded again.
Julian walked Angelique to the edge of the floor but did not release her hand immediately. He kept hold of it while he said something else. She answered. He listened, then replied. Louis could not hear the words. Angelique looked directly at Julian. Her expression had become serious.
Louis’s face went hot. His neck stiffened. He no longer cared who was watching. Gladice tightened her grip on his arm.
“Louis,” she said.
He stepped away from her and walked straight toward them. Julian turned as he approached. Angelique saw him first. Her face tightened.
“Louis,” she said.
He stopped within arm’s reach of Julian. Up close, Julian still looked composed. He straightened slightly and kept his voice low enough that only Louis and Angelique could hear.
“Mr. Collins,” Julian said. “Is there something—”
“Could you step away from her,” he said before Julian could finish the sentence, “or do I need to be more specific?”
Julian narrowed his eyes. “I beg your pardon?”
Angelique stepped closer, though she did not move between them. Louis could feel Gladice approaching behind his right shoulder.
Julian kept his voice low. “Miss Bourbon and I were merely talking.”
Louis sneered. “Walk away now or I’ll make you leave.”
Julian paused. Then he said, “If the Supreme President wished me gone, I imagine he would send someone more persuasive than his son.”
Louis did not answer. He thought of the whole evening. The half-heard French. The perfect courtesy. The way Angelique had given Julian things she had never yet given him cleanly. The way Gladice had known exactly where every fracture lay. He thought of his father in every city teaching the world that power belonged to those who knew how to occupy space without apology. He thought of himself, all evening long, occupying nothing.
Louis swung before he had finished deciding to. He drove a hard punch into Julian’s mouth. The man staggered backward into a chair. His glass fell and shattered. Someone gasped. Then hands were on Louis. Gladice caught his arm first. A hotel security officer seized his other shoulder, and one of Constantine’s guards reached him almost at once.
Angelique stepped back. The color had drained from her face. Then her mouth tightened. She looked at Julian first. Blood showed at the corner of his mouth. Julian touched it with his thumb and looked at the red mark. Then he looked at Louis, restrained a few feet away by three pairs of hands. For the first time that evening, surprise showed openly on his face. It gave way to recognition. That, more than anything, made Louis want to hit him again.
He tried to move forward. Gladice’s grip tightened hard enough to hurt.
“Don’t be stupid twice,” she said between her teeth.
Across the room, Serana stared at him with her eyes wide and her lips parted. Jacques had already turned toward his father. David was in motion. Constantine rose more slowly. Jessamine held one hand at her throat. Maria had stopped moving. Judith stood. Several nearby voices stopped, and the security officers straightened. Philip planted one hand flat on the table and stared at Louis.
For a moment, no one spoke. Then low voices broke out around the room. People spoke quickly, trying to contain what had happened. Louis hardly heard any of it. His pulse hammered in his throat and temples. He only saw the broken glass, Julian’s bleeding mouth, Angelique standing beside him, and Gladice’s hand locked around his arm.
Julian straightened. One of the local hosts reached for him. He shook his head and stayed where he was. Blood still marked his mouth. He looked, absurdly, more composed than Louis did. Angelique finally looked at Louis. She looked angry and shocked. Louis thought he saw recognition beneath both. He wanted to believe she understood that he had done it because of her. Her expression gave him no reason to think that understanding would excuse him.
Then Constantine spoke.
“Louis.”
Constantine did not raise his voice, but every conversation stopped. The men holding Louis tightened their grip.
David had already reached Julian. “Do you need a doctor?” he asked.
Julian took the linen square a waiter offered and pressed it to his mouth. When he lowered it, the cloth had gone red at one corner. “No,” he said. His voice was steady. “I’m perfectly able to remain standing.”
A woman near the river windows lowered her phone too late. Louis saw the screen go dark and understood that she had recorded the punch. By morning, the video would be everywhere.
Judith crossed the floor. She reached Louis and laid one hand on the wrist of the security officer holding him. The officer released Louis immediately.
“Enough,” she said.
Gladice released him a moment later. For a moment, Louis stood alone beside the broken glass and displaced chair.
Angelique stood beside Julian with her mouth set and her shoulders rigid. Julian said something low to her that Louis did not hear. She answered without taking her eyes off Louis. Then she turned away.
The jazz players remained motionless in the corner, instruments still in their hands. Around them, voices dropped and the guests began restoring the room before anyone had decided what to say. Staff righted the chairs. A waiter swept up the broken glass.
Louis stood in the middle of it, breathing too hard, his knuckles already beginning to throb, and understood for the first time in his life what it felt like to have done something that could not be taken back. He had not planned to do it. He had not believed he was capable of doing it. But he had. And now everything else would follow.