Chapter 15: Tangled in the Rhythm
Laura's POV
The charity gala is a performance I've perfected over the years smile, nod, deflect personal questions with practiced ease. But tonight, with Andy's hand resting on the small of my back as we navigate the crowd, everything feels different. More dangerous.
"You're tense," he murmurs, his breath warm against my ear as we pause near the silent auction table. His fingers trace a small circle against my spine, and despite everything, I feel myself relaxing into his touch.
"I always am at these things," I admit, accepting a glass of champagne from a passing waiter.
The crystal stem feels fragile in my fingers, like it might shatter if I grip too tight. "Too many
people, too many questions."
Andy's eyes scan the room, taking in the designer gowns and expensive jewelry with the practiced assessment of someone who's grown up in this world.
"Anyone in particular I should be worried about?"
Before I can answer, the orchestra begins the first waltz of the evening. Andy extends his hand, and I take it, letting him guide me onto the dance floor. The music is lush and romantic, the kind that makes people forget their troubles and remember why they fell in love.
"I haven't danced like this in years," I confess as we begin to move. Andy's surprisingly graceful, his lead confident but not dominating.
"You're a natural," he says, spinning me gently before pulling me back into his arms. "Makes me wonder what other talents you've been hiding."
The comment is teasing, but it hits closer to home than he knows. I've been hiding everything my past, my fears, the way my heart races every time he looks at me like I'm worth something.
"More than you know," I murmur, then immediately regret the honesty. But Andy just smiles, that slow, devastating smile that makes my knees weak.
I'm twenty-three, standing in yet another wedding dress, this one ivory silk that cost more than most people's cars. Husband number seven is a tech entrepreneur, barely older than me, who needs a wife for his company's IPO. The ceremony is small, efficient, more like a business meeting than a wedding.
"Do you ever wonder what it would be like?" he asks during the reception, his hand resting awkwardly on my waist as we dance to music neither of us chose.
"What what would be like?"
"To mean it. The vows, I mean. To actually love someone."
I look into his eyes kind eyes, lonely eyes and feel something crack in my chest. "I think it would be terrifying."
The song changes, something slower, more intimate. Andy pulls me closer, and I can smell his cologne, feel the warmth radiating from his body. The ballroom seems to shrink around us, the other couples fading into background noise.
"Laura," he says, my name a question on his lips. There's something in his expression, something vulnerable and hopeful that makes my chest tight.
"Don't," I whisper, even as I lean into him. "Don't say whatever you're thinking of saying."
"Why not?"
Because I'm falling for you, and that wasn't part of the plan. Because you make me want things I've never allowed myself to want. Because I'm terrified that if I let myself love you, you'll disappear like everyone else.
"Because we both know what this is," I say instead, hating how hollow the words sound.
Something flickers in his eyes hurt, maybe, or disappointment. But before he can respond, a familiar voice cuts through the music.
"Well, well. If it isn't the happy couple."
My blood turns to ice. Marcus appears at the edge of the dance floor, impeccably dressed in a black tuxedo, his smile sharp enough to cut glass. He's not alone a woman with a camera stands behind him, her lens already trained on us.
"Marcus." Andy's voice is low, warning. His arm tightens around me, protective.
"Don't stop on my account," Marcus says, his tone conversational. "You two look so natural together. Almost like you've been married before."
The threat in his words is clear. My mouth goes dry, and I can feel the color draining from my face. Around us, other couples continue to dance, oblivious to the storm about to break.
"What do you want?" Andy asks, though we both know the answer.
"Justice," Marcus says simply. "Truth. The things you've been so careful to avoid."
The photographer steps forward, her finger hovering over the camera's trigger. "Mrs. Hayes, is it true you've been married multiple times before?"
The question hangs in the air like a bomb waiting to explode. I can feel the other dancers slowing, their attention drawn to us. Someone gasps. A glass breaks somewhere in the distance.
"No comment," Andy says firmly, trying to steer me away from the reporter.
But Marcus isn't finished. "Come now, Laura. Don't be modest. Seventeen times, wasn't it?
That's quite an accomplishment for someone your age."
The ballroom suddenly feels too small, too bright, too exposed. I can feel dozens of eyes on us, can hear the whispers starting to spread like wildfire through the crowd. My carefully constructed world is crumbling, and there's nothing I can do to stop it.
"Andy," I whisper, my voice barely audible over the music. "I'm sorry."
He looks down at me, his eyes intense, searching. "Don't apologize. Not for this. Not to him."
But the damage is done. The photographer's camera flashes, capturing what must be a devastating image me, frozen in terror, Andy's arms around me like he's trying to shield me from the truth itself.
Marcus steps closer, his voice carrying easily over the music. "Tell me, Mrs. Hayes or should I say, Mrs. Morrison? Mrs. Chen? Mrs. Rodriguez? Which name do you prefer?"
Each name hits like a physical blow. I see recognition dawning in the faces around us, smartphones appearing as people begin to record. The charity gala is about to become a social media circus, and I'm the main attraction.
"That's enough." Andy's voice cuts through the chaos, sharp and commanding. "You've made your point."
"Have I?" Marcus tilts his head, considering. "Because I'm just getting started."
The photographer raises her camera again, and I know that whatever happens next, there's no going back. My seventeen lives are about to become one very public scandal, and the man whose arms I'm standing in is about to learn just how deep my deception goes.