We took a few spins in silence and I focused on the conversations I could catch around us. When the song ended, we broke apart and clapped for the quartet.
Esteban led me to the bar as the next song queued up.
He ordered two white wines and handed me a glass. “To life.”
“To life,” I echoed.
I took the smallest sip I could manage. Men who ordered drinks for a woman without knowing her preference made me angry. No doubt the women in his world thought it charming, a sign he cared, or maybe that they were his equal. I did not.
“What do you do, Esteban?” I leaned my arm into the bar, trying to appear casual even if my insides were coiled up like rattlesnakes waiting for the moment to strike.
“I mostly run philanthropic endeavors these days. I inherited my money and now I spend most of my time trying to give it away.”
I smiled; the smarmy bastard was starting to reach the extent of my patience.
Then I felt it. A slight buzz. A tingle which felt like Fin’s magic, except... tainted.
Someone was using magic here. Cruel, corrupt, dark magic.
Chapter Fourteen
As the magic washed over me, I realized I needed to interact with magic wielding paranormals more often. Maybe with more experience, I would be able to pick the sensations for accurate identification. Shifters and vamps had a different feel to them, more elemental. This feeling though was a dark, heady tingle. Something between the shifters spark and Fin’s magic.
And I had no idea what it was.
Esteban gave me a concerned look. “Are you all right?”
I smiled faintly, as if I had nothing more in my brain than my desire to be near him. “I haven’t eaten yet. Just a little light-headed.”
Men could never resist the damsel in distress play.
With a quick snap of Esteban’s finger, a server appeared at our side with a tray of h’orderves. That was a useful trick to have at a party. Hope these guys got paid well.
I scooped up a couple things that vaguely resembled potatoes and ate them as daintily as I could manage. Women like my pretend persona didn’t eat full meals; they survived on alcohol and ambition.
As we idled on the edge of the dance floor, that unidentifiable feeling still bugged me, the crawling spiders down my spine. I couldn’t tell if it emanated from Esteban or someone near.
When I moved a couple of steps to the side, Esteban followed carefully. I flashed a blinding smile and let him press another drink into my hand. Even though I hadn’t finished the last one, the snack boy whisked away it.
I took another couple of steps, Esteban did more following, as if he thought I would flee the second he left me alone.
“Feeling better?” he asked, cupping my elbow.
“Oh, yes. You’re a prince to take care of me so well. I don’t get this kind of treatment at home.”
His smile turned predatory. He was no doubt considering how quickly he could steal me away from my date.
We’d moved further to the edge of the crowd, and the creepy crawly sensation hadn’t abated. Esteban definitely had something going on.
I batted my lashes and sipped my drink, leaning into him. “Do you throw parties like this every year? I can’t image how much work goes into them.”
His eyes softened. “Usually, a couple of times a year. And you are correct, these parties take a lot out of me and my staff. But I love the chance to see all my friends in one place and get to know new ones, like you.”
Smooth. Smooth. The accent only made him more endearing.
“And no lady of the manor to help you plan everything?” I asked as sweetly as I could without choking on my tongue.
He flipped the switch back to the predator waiting to pounce.