28. Valerie

Chapter twenty-eight

Valerie

" O h my god, why have we never come here before?" I yell over the music.

Natalia and I have returned downstairs to the main dance floor and we're currently dancing as if our lives depend on it. The dance floor is packed, there's barely enough space for anyone to move freely but enough space to sway to the beat of whatever the DJ is playing. "Did I mention this is my favourite song ever?"

"Have you ever heard this before?" Nat giggles next to my ear.

"Nope, but it's amazing and the bestest thing ever."

"Okaaay, I think we need some water," Natalia says and I pout not wanting to move from our spot.

"Go, I'll stay here and keep the spot warm." I smile broadly, still dancing.

"I don't thi-"

"JUST GOOO!" I yell.

I don't notice her leaving, but I do notice the DJ playing another amazing mix that has more people joining the dancefloor and me being pushed further back as a result. I'm having so much fun that not even the bitchy girls and their self-centred boyfriends could ruin my night.

I don't even know how long it's been, but in my head, it feels as if Nat has been gone for way too long.

Slowly, I make my way to the back of the dance floor, trying to look around and find her. My heels are wobbly, vision blurry, but I'm still able to make out most things but the darkness and flashing lights aren't helping.

"Valerie, are you okay?" A voice asks from behind me. They place a hand on my waist and I jump at the foreign contact.

I spin around, way too quickly, and nearly trip over my own feet. I close my eyes and simply accept my fate of ending up on my ass in one of Tevici's hottest clubs. A set of hands wrap around my waist and stops me from meeting my impending doom. Only then do I decide to open my eyes and see who exactly it is.

"Oh, Horatio." I quickly regain my foot attempting to stand. "Thank you."

"Are you okay? You look lost," he says, hands un-moving from my waist.

"I'm fine, thank you," I say, trying to remain respectful while also trying to move back and out of his grasp. When he realises what I'm trying to do, his grip tightens. "I'm okay, thank you Horatio, you can let go now."

"I think we should get you back upstairs," he says, still holding onto my waist, guiding me in the direction even a blind man could see is not upstairs. He attempts to force me further towards the back of the dance floor and my chest constricts.

I'm unstable on my heels, the alcohol isn't helping and neither is the darkness concealing his actions. My eyes dart around but to no avail, I don't see anyone familiar.

"You shouldn't be wandering around alone in a dress like that, what would your husband think?"

"Husband? Ambrose and I aren't married?" I stare at him in confusion.

He opens his mouth to speak but shuts it instantly as a look of horror takes over his face. "I was trying to bring her up to you. She's completely drunk and nearly fell over her own feet walking through the crowd."

Then I feel it, a familiar warmth along with the smell of lavender .

"Is that so? Except upstairs is in the complete opposite direction," he says. His voice is calm but I can hear the way his anger simmers beneath it, disguised like a wolf in sheep's clothing.

Horatio remains silent.

"If I ever see you breathe in her direction again, it'll be the last breath you take. Do you understand me?" His large arm wraps around my waist and pulls my back against his chest

"Yes, Ambrose."

Horatio's eyes flash to mine before staring at the floor in fear that Ambrose will see him again. "Leave." Ambrose snaps, and the normally collected man scurries away like the rat he's revealed himself to be, followed by at least five security guards Ambrose sends after him as well. He turns me around to face him and leans down until his eyes are in line with mine. "Are you okay?"

They're so green. I've never noticed how complex the colour is. It isn't the shade of green like the grass, it's an ode to nature, whispered by Earth herself. It's the green of a thousand untouched forests the kind no brush stroke could ever replicate, so gree-

"C'mon, I'm taking you home," Ambrose says, interlocking his fingers with mine and pulling me in the direction of the front door.