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The coldness in my belly spreads to my limbs.
“Does she look like anyone you know?” He sounds anxious, like he’s worried on my behalf.
Seven’s date is tall, her sleeveless column gown emphasizing her height. Her dark blonde hair flows down her shoulders in loose waves, and she stands like she’s unsure what to do with her hands. She’s pretty, but not gorgeous. Paired with her self-conscious posture, it makes her look approachable.
“Me,” I choke out. Seven’s date looks like me.
“Cora thinks she’s an actress,” Kieran says. I inhale sharply, putting all my faith in Cora’s theory. “She says that Seven probably hired her just to piss Liam off.”
“Language,” I say absently. I swallow hard as I refocus on Kieran. “Was Liam upset?”
“Oh yeah. Brady told him to leave it alone, though. If Seven’s trying to get a rise out of Liam, the best thing Liam can do is not react.”
“Take the high road,” I agree, and Kieran gives me an encouraging smile.
This time it’s me who’s desperate to change the subject, and I ask him how school’s going. He mumbles about his meeting with the career counselor, Mrs. Taylor, the woman who told me my greatest skill was conflict resolution. She’d witnessed me de-escalate some near-fights in the cafeteria, but that didn’t seem like much of a skill to me.
Real skills were things like book smarts and cleverness, or strength and resilience. Talents I never had.
As the octet transitions into an uptempo piece, Kieran and I realize it’s beyond our ability as dance partners.
“I’m thirsty,” he declares. “Let’s get something to drink.”
“Okay, but no champagne for you on my watch.”
He pretends to pout before leading us over to the refreshments table. I’m about to reach for a flute when a tuxedoed man steps in between me and the drinks. Even though I’m in heels, the stranger is a full head taller than me.
Except he’s not a stranger—I know exactly who he is. Our greatest enemy, standing directly in front of me and blocking my path. My stomach roils at the sight of him.
He’s good-looking in a traditional way, with wavy brown hair and symmetrical features, high cheekbones and a strong jawline. But even if I didn’t know who he was, I’d still think there was something disconcerting about his face, something off.
“Mortimer Vanleusen.” He places his hand over his heart and bows low.
My body is frozen. I’m desperate to look around the room for Liam, but I can’t tear my gaze away from the threat in front of me. When he straightens up, he looks me dead in the eye.
“Morty to my friends.” Seven to my enemies.
It’s like he spoke the last part straight into my mind, and I realize what’s unsettling about him. His smile doesn’t reach his eyes.
“May I have this dance?” His voice rumbles through me as he offers me his hand.
I flick my eyes to Kieran, who looks as terrified as I feel. Then Kieran grimaces and gives me a shrug, as if to acknowledge that I don’t really have a choice.
I take Seven’s hand.
His palm is cool and smooth against mine as he leads me onto the dance floor. Other couples make way for us, spreading out as if they can sense the menace Seven brings with him. He settles his hand lightly on my waist and guides us expertly into a Viennese waltz.
“You are devastatingly beautiful, by the way.” He grips me tightly for a spin. “The most gorgeous woman in this room.”
I give him a small nod to acknowledge that I heard him. But when I don’t reply to his compliment, he leans close to my ear. Too close. Seven’s whisper is a sinister hiss.
“This is the part where you tell me that I’m handsome.”
I go stiff with panic. My limbs are wooden carvings, manipulated by Seven like a puppeteer as we dance.
“Hm,” he says in disapproval. “And to think I was led to believe that you were unfailingly polite. Apparently not.” He spins us again, and I have to swallow several times before my vocal cords work.
“It’s not polite to lie,” I say shakily, and Seven throws back his head to laugh. It’s a cruel sound.
