Fletcher's hand burned against Carli's lower back. He guided her through the crowd, but the surge of guests slowed their progress near the center.
Carli's heart hammered against her ribs. She stared at the side of his face. She looked at his sharp jawline, trying to map the black mask onto his features.
Fletcher felt her staring. He turned his head. He raised one thick eyebrow, looking at her with perfect, innocent confusion.
He grabbed a glass of sparkling water from a waiter and handed it to her.
Carli took the glass. As she did, her fingertips brushed against his palm. She felt the rough calluses on his skin. The exact same calluses that had gripped her hips last night.
She leaned closer to him. She lowered her voice. "Tell me, Mr. Gutierrez. Do you ever spend your evenings in the Meatpacking District?"
Fletcher took a sip of his drink. His face didn't change. "Too loud," he said smoothly. "Not my kind of crowd."
Carli frowned. Doubt crept into her mind. Maybe the alcohol and the stress had messed with her memory.
Suddenly, the massive antique grandfather clock in the center of the room chimed.
Vaughn was still near the center, stalling the security guards as he tried to pull Isla away to save face.
A loud, violent screech of tearing metal echoed from the ceiling.
The music stopped. Carli looked up.
Her pupils shrank to pinpricks. Her blood ran cold.
The massive, multi-tiered crystal chandelier, as large as a small car, hanging directly over the center of the room was pulling away from the ceiling. The thick iron bolts were snapping one by one.
Directly underneath it stood Vaughn and Isla.
People started screaming. The crowd panicked, shoving each other to get away from the center of the room.
The last bolt snapped. The chandelier plummeted.
The crowd's scream was his only warning. Vaughn's eyes shot up, and pure terror seized his features. He didn't think; he just reacted to save his own skin. In a split second of pure animal instinct, he shoved Isla violently to the side as he threw himself to the ground, a fraction of a second before the chandelier obliterated the spot where they had stood. He completely forgot about Carli, who was standing only a few feet away.
Carli was frozen. The massive shadow of the falling glass covered her. She didn't have time to run. She closed her eyes and braced for the crushing impact.
A massive force slammed into her.
Fletcher grabbed her waist with both hands. He yanked her violently into his chest. He spun them around, throwing Carli to the floor and covering her entirely with his massive body.
CRASH.
The chandelier hit the marble floor. The sound was deafening. Thousands of heavy, razor-sharp crystal shards exploded outward like shrapnel. Dust and debris filled the air.
Carli was pressed hard against the floor. Fletcher's arms were wrapped tight around her head. She smelled his cedar scent mixed with the smell of crushed stone. She didn't feel a single piece of glass hit her, though her palms stung from the impact with the marble floor.
Above her, Fletcher let out a sharp, guttural grunt. His body jerked hard.
The noise stopped. People were crying and screaming through the thick dust.
Carli opened her eyes. She looked past Fletcher's shoulder. She saw Vaughn cowering on the ground, leaving Isla trembling in the dust beside him. Any lingering feeling she had for Vaughn died right there.
She looked up at Fletcher. His eyes were squeezed shut. Sweat beaded on his forehead.
Carli reached around his back to hold him. Her hand touched something wet and warm.
She pulled her hand back. Her fingers were covered in thick, dark red blood. A massive piece of crystal had sliced straight through his suit jacket and deep into his back.
"Fletcher," Carli gasped, her hands shaking as she pressed them against his bleeding back.
Fletcher opened his eyes. He looked down at her. Through the pain, his dark eyes burned with an intensity that terrified her.
Their blood was mixed on her hands. The game had just changed.
