“Let’s give our audience even more to talk about,” Nate said as he led her off the dance floor.
Nadia didn’t know what he meant until she realized he was leading her toward a doorway at the back of the ballroom. A pair of security guards flanked the doorway, and as if their presence wasn’t enough to clue everyone in that the rooms behind were off-limits, the lights in the hallway were off. Once again, Nadia had to suppress a groan. Everyone would notice the two of them sneaking off into the residential part of the mansion, and everyone would draw conclusions about what they were doing back there. Conclusions that would help Nate’s camouflage, to be sure, but that wouldn’t do her reputation a whole lot of good.
“I’d like another glass of punch,” Nadia said, though she’d barely taken two sips of her first and hadn’t enjoyed them.
Nate gave her his most wicked grin. “What’s the matter? Afraid to be alone with me?”
The problem with Nate was that once you gave him the inch, he went for the mile every time. Sometimes Nadia just wanted to shake him. She stopped moving toward the shadowed hallway, forcing Nate to stop with her.
“One scandal a night is all you get.” She said it with a smile, keeping her voice down so that no one watching them would know they were arguing. If that was what they were doing.
“You don’t want to mingle any more than I do,” Nate countered, “so let’s not.”
“What I want doesn’t really matter,” she said, hoping he didn’t hear the hint of bitterness in her voice.
“You said you were coming down with a cold. I’m sure polite society will forgive you for not spreading it around.”
Nadia wavered. The fact that she was sick wouldn’t protect her from scandal. But her nose was feeling stuffier, and the thought of spending the rest of the evening forcing smiles exhausted her.
Nate reached up and tucked one finger under his collar, pulling at the bow tie like it was choking him. “I’ve been on my best behavior for hours,” he said, sounding truly put upon. “I spent all morning schmoozing with my father and his cronies, and I even managed not to make more than one or two rude and inappropriate jokes. I dressed up, I showed up to the ceremony on time, and I’ve had only one drink. If I don’t let off some steam, I’ll probably end up doing something truly shocking in front of all these people. Far more shocking than leaving the room with my bride-to-be.”
She suppressed a shudder. When it came to making trouble, Nate could be remarkably creative. And because he was Chairman Heir, his bad behavior would reflect poorly not just on him and his family but on Paxco itself. Nadia might hate politics, but she cared enough about her state not to want Nate causing an international incident.
“This is blackmail,” she muttered, giving him a narrow-eyed glare that failed to make an impression.
His eyes twinkled. “Is it working?”
Her shoulders slumped in defeat. “Of course it’s working,” she grumped. Not for the first time, she wondered what her life would be like if she weren’t destined to be Nate’s bride, if the Chairman had chosen some other family to honor. And, as she had every time she’d questioned her fate before, she dismissed the thought. Nadia’s role in life as her father’s second daughter, and therefore not his heir, was to marry well and bring even greater wealth, prestige, and power to her family. Nate was far and away better than most of the men she was likely to be paired with.
Nate put his hand on her shoulder blade and guided her toward the hallway. She kept her chin up, not glancing right or left, trying to pretend she wasn’t doing anything improper and that she didn’t notice people watching her every move. Wandering off alone with Nate in such a public setting was an epic risk. Executive society operated on a set of social conventions that hearkened back to the nineteenth century, and though girls were able to inherit and hold power the same as boys, they were held to very different standards of behavior. If her engagement to Nate should fall through, she would be forever tainted in the eyes of Executive society. Damaged goods, sloppy seconds. All because of false assumptions about what she and Nate were doing when they were out of the public eye.
The guards pretended not to notice as Nate and Nadia slipped into the darkened hallway. Within a few steps, it was so dark Nadia couldn’t see a thing, but Nate guided her with complete confidence, turning two corners before reaching a hallway in which a few dim lights glowed.
Nadia’s eyes were drawn immediately to the figure who stood artfully posed in the halo of one of those lights, and her heart sank even lower as she realized exactly why Nate had dragged her away from the party.
Kurt Bishop was possibly the most inappropriate boyfriend Nate could have chosen—which was no doubt part of his appeal. Born and raised in the Basement, Bishop had been rescued from his life of depravity and squalor when Nate had accompanied his father on one of his routine recruitment campaigns there. Twice a year, a handful of young Basement-dwellers were given a chance for a better life, being brought into the ranks of the Employees, generally as menial laborers. Nate had taken an instant liking to Bishop and had hired him as his valet.
Even dressed in his formal livery, Bishop looked like a barbarian. His hair was a scraggly mane he refused to cut. A multitude of silver rings pierced one of his ears from top to bottom. Another pierced his eyebrow. And then there was the little silver ball in his tongue. Nadia couldn’t imagine letting someone jab a needle through her tongue. Every time she saw that piercing, she had to fight a cringe.
Bishop wasn’t wearing his livery tonight, Nadia noted, as an embarrassed blush rose to her cheeks. Tonight, he looked like the Basement-dweller he was, wearing skin-tight black leather pants and a mesh shirt that displayed his tattoos to all the world. He looked like a predator on the hunt, and Nate was his more-than-eager prey.
Nadia shook her head. “No,” she said firmly as Nate and Bishop met each other’s eyes, their gazes hot enough to scorch her.
Bishop raised his pierced eyebrow at her and smiled. “Nate didn’t tell you he was coming to meet me?”
“Of course not,” she snapped. “If he’d told me, I wouldn’t be here.”
“Nadia—” Nate started in a coaxing tone, but there were limits to how far she would allow herself to be pushed.
“I said no, and I mean it.” Earlier, she’d thought she wanted to shake him; now, she wanted to slap him.
“We’ll make it quick,” he promised. “All you have to do is stand guard for a few minutes, let us know if someone is coming.”
Bishop snickered at the double entendre, but Nadia was far from amused. She shook her head at Nate, amazed at his gall, though maybe she shouldn’t have been.
“You mean you’re so desperate to get laid you can’t even wait until after the reception?” she asked in a furious undertone.
“Where would the fun be in that?” Nate asked with a hard glint in his eye, and Nadia realized that there was more to this liaison than just a little mischievous fun. As much as he might enjoy provoking people, Nate never quite dared stage a full-scale rebellion against his father and the rules of Executive society. But sneaking off to screw his Basement-dweller boyfriend during a state event must have seemed a pretty satisfying substitute.
Nate had told her the truth about his sexual preferences when she was fourteen, when she was old enough that he could trust her to appreciate the importance of keeping it secret. Homosexuality was all right for the Employees and the Basement-dwellers, but it was an inexcusable flaw in an Executive. If anyone learned of Nate’s practices, he’d be subjected to an extensive regimen of “reprogramming.” Nadia had no idea what that “reprogramming” entailed, except that it was draconian and it would destroy the Nate she knew.