Dane

Fucking fundraisers. Fucking women with their fucking dancing. Fucking brother taunting him by dancing with fucking Lila.

​​

Fucking fucking motherfucker.

Fuck.

Teeth gritted against the rage that threated to pour out of his mouth, Dane ushered Regina Harley back to her table, along with her inch-long nails that he'd swear had left holes in his tuxedo jacket, and politely shook his head when her colleague approached with that gleam in her eye and asked him for a turn on the dancefloor. "I'm very sorry, ladies, but I have commitments to see to tonight. Thank you for the lovely dance, Regina," he said. He figured out he hadn't really covered his anger well with both women's eyes widened. But they were polite and forced gentle smiles and patted his arms. They made the appropriate noises about his commitment to his work, then let him go. He couldn't walk away fast enough.

He'd seen Chris tug Lila onto the dancefloor and almost lost his shit. He'd almost tripped Regina in a turn, repositioning so he could keep an eye on them. Lila had mostly looked bored. But towards the end, she'd gotten tense. Because of Chris? Or because she couldn't find him? He'd seen her looking around—prayed it was for him—but she'd always seemed to be on the wrong angle to see him. He'd watched her hair in those gorgeous curls, the muscles in her shoulder slide and move, watched her hold onto Chris—who was a better dancer than him, though somewhat more aggressive—and he'd seen the sadness and frustration in her.

She was tense.

He wanted to make it better. But he was strung tighter than a violin string himself. He had to watch himself very, very carefully. His instincts were always to rush in and think later. That wouldn't work tonight. Tonight he was at risk of plowing her against a wall if he stopped thinking. So he put his hands in his pockets as he quickly circled the dancefloor back to where their table was. Surely they'd only had one dance? Surely she'd be back there now with the rest of the team?

He circled a wide pillar to reach their table and was relieved to see Chris standing against it, grinning at Tish who was… hanging off him like a leech?

He caught Chris's eye who gave him that lopsided grin that meant his brother was feeling a bit smug. But he couldn't see Lila anywhere at the table.

Cursing under his breath, he slipped around Tonya and Grant to stand next to Chris.

"…so hot in a tux!" Tish slurred as he reached them. Then she threw her arms around Chris's neck and hung off him. "Dance w'me!"

Dane's eyebrows popped up. Clearly Tish was self-medicating tonight. Interesting. She hadn't done that in a long time. Chris caught his eye over her shoulder and rolled his eyes, but he hadn't stopped smiling.

"Having a good night, Tish?" Dane asked quietly.

She popped up, her face surprised and turned. Then she smiled wider than he thought he'd ever seen her. "Dane! You're back! Will you dance w'me? Chris keeps shaying noo."

Dane gave Chris a skeptical look. "Uh, maybe a little later?" he said to her quietly. "I need a drink and a breather right now."

She stomped her foot and pouted, her drink slopping over her hand as she used it to gesture. "Men. You're all the shame."

"I'm wounded, Tish," he joked, hand on his heart. "I tell you what, if Chris doesn't dance with you at least once, I'll deny his Christmas bonus this year."

Her face lit up and she turned back to Chris, squealing. "See! See! You have to now!"

Chris rolled his eyes. "Thanks, brother."

"Anytime," Dane grinned.

But his smile faded as Chris took Tish's drink and placed it carefully on the table for her, then led her onto the dance floor, her arm pinned beneath his as he made sure she'd stay upright. Where was Lila?

He looked around the table, made small talk for a few minutes with Tank and Grant, using it as an excuse to let himself study the dancefloor again in case he'd missed her out there. But his tension was ticking up with every passing minute. He couldn't see her anywhere in the swaying couples on the dancefloor. And he'd now been at the table for at least fifteen minutes. Where was she?

Was she safe?

Finally, unwilling to just stand there any further, and because he saw a woman approaching, her eyes cutting to him every few steps, he gulped down his drink and excused himself from the guys. "I'll be back, just headed to the bar."

They nodded, not really paying attention, which worked for him.

Turning in the direction away from the woman who was still several tables away, he used all the advantage of his long legs and the thick pillars that circled the floor to slide out of sight and put distance between them.

*****

When he finally found the bar area tucked away around the corner from the ballroom, it took only seconds to find her.

She stood, her clutch under one arm, about three people back from the bar. The crowd was surprisingly thick—and mostly men obviously seeking something harder than the wine and champagne available at the tables and trays in the ballroom.

Her back was to him, and for a moment he thought she was just part of the crush. He imagined sliding up behind her through the crowd, and pressing into her back.

But then one of the men to her right leaned into her ear, saying something, and placed his hand at her back.

Lila jerked away from him, but caught herself before it was too obvious. She turned her head to the man and spoke openly, but her shoulders were pulled away from him, and she turned to move his hand from her back.

But the guy just grinned and didn't stop talking. Too close.

Dane's hands clenched to fists.

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