Masquerade [Kuskovo Estate]

[Noémi Jourdain]

  

Her concerns for Rafael only grew in his silence. He did not attempt to smile again, just looked back at her in tired contemplation. Noémi slipped her arm through his; in support, not to keep him rooted against his will. Though if he departed, she did not know what she would do; she knew no one else here, and despite the elegance with which she carried herself, she knew she would not fit in amongst these people. They might not know she did not belong, but she would. Yet the concern for her own troubles was only superficial. Nikolai knew she had come as he asked, and it was not like any true moments could be spared for them here. This whole evening was an exercise in deep longing. Despite the beautiful dress and exquisite mask, and despite the way his gaze across the distance made her feel, she knew this was not a fairytale in which she ended in the prince’s arms.

She talked quietly to Rafael as they walked the floor – filling the silence so he did not have to. He seemed to settle back into himself, but she could tell Kristian’s words had unnerved him somehow. It was also clear he didn’t wish to talk. But she began to believe the other man had been right. This was not so simple as a broken heart.

Eventually he requested air; a moment to revive himself, and return. The gaze she turned up to him was full of emotion, but of course she did not stop him from seeking the fortification of solitude. Her hand pressed warmth to his cheek. Rafael protested a weak smile, a sheen to his eyes behind the wood-carved mask, and left. Noémi’s arm returned slowly to her side, feeling exposed, but unwilling to allow her own frailties to lean on his when he was so wounded. She watched him slip safely beneath the arch of a gilt door before she gathered herself.

A champagne from the bar kept her hands busy, though she was too nervous to actually drink it. Not because of her isolation in an estate full of people – in her own company, she was quite content – but for who she did not wish to see. That dark omen hovered like mist on water, and in truth she never really thought she could avoid the confrontation forever. It was a risk she had accepted the moment she read the invitation, and knew she would attend, despite the family who hosted the celebration.

She remained for a while, listening to the conversations around her. Until the barest overheard whisper tied a surprising knot in her chest. Discretion was an art she was intimately familiar with, and there was nothing overt in what she heard. But she knew what it meant. And when she looked for Nikolai, it was as though someone had flayed open her heart. For he was indeed nowhere to be seen.

Noémi moved without thinking, uncertain of herself for the first time. Had she seen Jensen or Kristian, she might have sought solace in at least somewhat familiar company, but the floor was awash with faces unfamiliar – or worse, faces she would rather avoid. She breathed deeply, armoured herself in resilience anew. For all her night with Nikolai had impressed a fatal love upon her own soul, they had made no promises, and only she had offered devotion. She had no reason to think she would be his only one. Which did not alleviate the pain. But it allowed her to wrap herself in practised demurity, and accept the consequences of her own making. And she could accept. What choice was there, for a woman like her? But she did not wish to witness it.

“Noémi?”

Surprise flared her eyes, and she took a polite step back. But Dima had never been one for distance, and he closed it in a heartbeat. Tall, broad-shouldered, dark as sin; he filled her entire vision. Her pulse spiked like the fear of prey, though he had never hurt her physically. His hand was already stroking her cheek like she was some rare jewel, as though he might just lift the delicate mask right from her face in his wonder and possession. “God it's you. You look exquisite.”

He was looking at her like he could fathom no other reason for her presence than as a gift to him. Which he might well believe, given their history. She tried to encourage his hand away, a smile of placation on her lips. Sofia was here somewhere, a blood red queen of vengeance, and Dmitri was turbulent at the best of times. A scene now would be excruciating, not least if Sofia was compelled to reveal the sizeable payment that had extricated her from her brother’s life. It was half the reason Noémi had finally been able to leave the work.

His hands were everywhere, prising the drink from her hand, slipping the burnished curls of her hair through his fingers in awe. He stared down boldly. She had never known a man so intense, until Nikolai, but unlike Nikolai, Dima was like the electricity of storms. Unpredictable. Inescapable. And he didn’t understand no. So when he pulled her forward, she was uncertain how to free herself beyond weathering his attention. His arm circled her waist, and for a moment she was terrified he would try to kiss her, but he only grinned and guided them onto the dancefloor.