Corruption

by Jessica Shirvington

  And probably glass.

  I touched the mask with my fingertips. ‘It’s perfect, Eva. Thank you.’

  Eva beamed. ‘I agree. The alarm automatically activates when you leave the room so just remember you can’t remove the mask until you hand it in at the exit doors.’

  ‘Okay,’ I said, running my fingers over the mask briefly. I nodded in Eliza Mercer’s direction briefly. ‘Enjoy your evening,’ I said softly.

  ‘You too, Ivy,’ Eliza said slowly. ‘And do be sure to let my son know that I would like at least one dance tonight. His father couldn’t make it this evening, so it appears I’m partnerless and it feels like I haven’t seen him in days.’ She smiled knowingly. ‘I imagine that might have something to do with you.’

  Eva must have sensed my need for escape because she took my arm. ‘You had better get on with showing the room your gorgeous mask and I had better get on with finding the perfect match for Mrs Mercer.’ Eva turned from me and started towards Eliza. ‘Now, we need something incredible to go with that dress …’ she began as I gratefully bee-lined out of the room before Eliza could say anything else.

  Thirteen

  I spotted Quentin on the far side of the ballroom easily. My eyes were drawn to him instantly and there was no mistaking the impressive way he filled out his midnight-blue tuxedo. Apparently I wasn’t the only female aware of his presence, given the three-deep circle of fans hovering around him.

  Looking around the room, filled with diplomatic representatives, I questioned again if this had been the right decision. We were out in the open and in the thick of political territory. We may as well have been in the lobby of M-Corp, considering Garrett Mercer controlled the government. At least – thanks to Eliza Mercer’s comment – I knew Garrett wasn’t there.

  I wondered idly how many politicians or their family members M-Corp had turned neg in order to control, or silence. My hands fisted as I considered this, let alone the fact that M-Corp’s facilities below ground were all once government property.

  I started to make my way towards Quentin when someone tapped me on the shoulder. I spun around, half expecting to see a team of M-Corp security guards holding their guns in my face, but it was a guy. Slightly shorter than average, with a receding hairline and medium build. He was wearing a red tuxedo – yes, tuxedo colours were all the rage – and a green mask. He looked like a Christmas decoration.

  ‘I’m sorry, miss,’ he said with a charmer’s voice. ‘But I couldn’t help noticing you and I had to say hello.’

  God help me.

  ‘Hello,’ I said, knowing I had to play the part. ‘Are you having a nice evening?’ Isn’t that what boring people with too much money say?

  ‘I am. And when I saw you I instantly moved closer to see if we might have the kind of rating I suspect we would, however …’ I didn’t need to see behind the mask to know he was raising his eyebrows. ‘I do believe having our Phera-tech in active mode is very much the point of the evening. Unless, of course, you are married?’

  He was challenging me, knowing that even if I was married, if I moved in the right social circles, that wouldn’t stop me from supporting this event and activating my tech.

  I forced a smile and adjusted my M-Band setting, turning on my Phera-tech for the first time since Quentin had taken our rating. The tech activated instantly and a rating flashed up for the guy in front of me. My smile became genuine and I shrugged. ‘Maybe next time,’ I said, enjoying seeing his face drop at the measly seventeen per cent compatibility reading. That pretty much excluded us from everything, even friendship.

  ‘I see you’re still forcing yourself on unsuspecting victims, Justin,’ said a man who approached us from the side and clapped the red tuxedo man on the back.

  ‘I thought tonight was supposed to be anonymous,’ the man grumbled as he shoved past the taller man who chuckled.

  The man, wearing a more traditional black tuxedo, turned to me. He was wearing a white mask with silver markings and it covered most of his face, making it hard to see anything more than his mouth. ‘I have incredible powers of observation,’ he said with a slight accent I couldn’t place. Maybe British.

  ‘Oh?’ I questioned with a small smile, playing along while I tried to figure out how to get over to Quentin. ‘And what would your observations of me be?’

  ‘You’re distracted.’

  My eyes flashed to the stranger. He held out his hand. ‘And a dance would cure you of that.’

  Before I knew what I was doing, I took the man’s hand, hoping that a dance across the centre of the ballroom floor might get me over to where Quentin was being swamped by women who had clearly identified the Mercer heir. I had to let him know his mother was nearby, and we still had to find Morris.

  ‘You’re still distracted,’ he said, turning me around the room with so much skill that he managed to make it look like I was actually something more than a ragdoll in his arms.

  ‘Why do you think that?’ I said, working hard to keep my focus on my dance partner.

  ‘Because you agreed to dance with me, and yet you haven’t once looked at your M-Band to check our rating.’ He pulled me close. ‘Which happens to be very impressive, by the way.’

  My step faltered, but he held me up. Casually I turned the wrist that was resting on his shoulder towards me to read the rating.

  I glanced back at him. ‘It is … quite good.’

  ‘Seventy-nine per cent is a little more that quite good,’ he said.

  He spun me around and a flash of red caught my eye. I gazed up to one of the balconies that rimmed the ballroom. Eliza Mercer was standing next to a man in a black tuxedo and turquoise mask that matched the unusually coloured flower in his lapel. They were both facing the dance floor, as if ignoring one another, but I could see their lips move in fast conversation and then the man’s shoulders dropped, as if he’d received terrible news.

  I shook my head, wondering what Eliza Mercer was up to now. If she did know it was me in the mask room, I needed to be ready for anything. The only thing that kept me from making a run for it was Quentin’s words from earlier. And he was right. She wouldn’t make a public scene.

  ‘Sadly for me,’ my dance partner said as he turned us again and broke my line of sight, ‘it’s the highest rating I’ve yet to record.’

  I blinked back to the conversation. ‘Sadly?’

  He nodded and, for the first time, smiled. The warm expression triggered something in me and I took a closer look at the stranger, my eyes narrowing. When he spoke next, he leaned close to my ear. The accent was gone. ‘These things rarely work out well when the lady is already spoken for.’

  I gasped, but he held me close and shook his head in warning when I opened my mouth to say his name.

  ‘Took you long enough,’ he murmured.

  I pulled back enough to look at Morris’s eyes through the mask. ‘We have to get –’

  He cut me off with a sharp squeeze of my hand before I could say Quentin’s name, his eyes darting to his M-Band.

  It was then that I saw the small amber light, indicating a recording device was in operation. Someone was listening in. All M-Bands were fitted with recording devices that could be activated remotely – for ‘reasons of security’ – by someone with a warrant. Or enough power.

  And if they were listening … My eyes shifted from side to side. I suddenly felt like I was in a fishbowl.

  ‘I was beginning to worry I wouldn’t be meeting anyone tonight,’ he said in a voice that let me know he was talking about his planned meet-up with Quentin. ‘It seems everyone is on the prowl this evening. But when I saw you walk in, I knew it would be my one chance. Nice … mask, by the way.’

  ‘How’d you know it was me?’

  ‘To be honest, at first I thought you were someone else, but when I got up close, I realised my error.’ He grinned mischievously.

  My curiosity was piqued. ‘How?’

  ‘Her boobs are bigger than yours.’

  ‘O
h,’ I said, glancing down then back at Morris. ‘Good observation.’

  He shrugged. ‘I try to be thorough.’

  ‘I don’t like this,’ I whispered.

  ‘Neither do I,’ Morris replied. For the first time, I registered his clammy palms and the way he kept licking his dry lips. He wasn’t as calm as I’d assumed. Which meant I needed to get a grip and get us through this.

  ‘Just keep dancing,’ I murmured, pulling him closer. ‘And let’s both try to look as though it isn’t some form of cruel and unusual torture.’

  He smiled, his shoulders relaxing. We danced until we’d moved behind a large group who were all dancing together.

  Morris’s fingers were jittery on my back. When the group laughed loudly, he took the opportunity to lean close to my ear and whisper, ‘You guys are in some deep shit.’

  ‘And then some. Thanks for helping us,’ I replied quickly.

  He nodded, his eyes darting about. ‘You know I’m good for it.’

  ‘Are you?’ I threw back, not caring if I offended him. The tension coming off Morris was causing my skin to crawl.

  ‘Follow your instincts. I don’t think they will mislead you.’ Morris stared at me before glancing over my shoulder. He turned me slowly until I was facing the same direction as him. I spotted a man talking into his M-Band. He was in a black tuxedo with a sunflower-yellow pocket square. Morris discreetly turned me again and I spotted a similarly dressed man, then again, and again until I had counted twelve guards. And that was just what I could see in the room.

  I looked back into his waiting eyes. Slowly I nodded, letting him know that I understood.

  ‘My instincts say you’re a trustworthy kind of person. For a stranger, of course,’ I said in what I hoped came across as a flirty voice to whoever was listening. ‘But I’m afraid I wasn’t planning on having a late night, so I’m not sure I’m the best person for your lovely attention.’

  The corner of Morris’s mouth lifted. ‘Unfortunately that might be true,’ he said. I noticed that Quentin had moved closer to the dance floor and was looking in our direction. I prayed he didn’t try to intervene. ‘Are you driving?’ Morris asked conversationally as he pulled a folded envelope from inside his jacket.

  I shook my head. ‘Train and bus,’ I said, hoping to give some misdirection. Subtly I looked around. There were guards disguised as guests everywhere. God knows how many more were hidden where I could not see.

  Morris carefully passed the envelope to me and I managed to quickly slip it down the front of my dress. But there was no way the transfer had gone completely unseen.

  When I looked up, I saw that Quentin was moving towards us. No!

  ‘In that case, I wish you a very good evening and safe travels.’ He leaned close, kissing me just below the edge of my mask on one cheek and then dropping the hand with his M-Band as he kissed the other, and whispered quickly, ‘Everything is there, plus a little extra that was out of my control. There’s a black Range Rover across the street. The code on the outside of the envelope will activate driver privileges. Make sure you look in the glove compartment straight away.’

  I nodded. ‘I won’t forget this.’

  Morris tipped a finger to his head in mock salute, playing the part. ‘I’m sure you won’t.’

  With that I quickly stepped past Morris, took two steps towards Quentin and grabbed his arm, squeezing hard in warning before I released him and walked towards the exit. When I chanced a look over my shoulder, I exhaled with relief to see that he was following me instead of Morris.

  I made my way out of the main ballroom and into a hallway, following a waitress with large bag through a doorway. We were in a linen room. When the waitress turned and noticed me, she started to explain that this was a staff-only area.

  I put up a hand to stop her. ‘I know. I’m really sorry, but I …’ But what was I really going to say? I locked eyes with the woman, who looked like she was in her sixties. ‘Please,’ I begged. ‘Please. Just two minutes.’

  At that moment, the door opened and Quentin slipped in, closing it behind him.

  I looked between him and the woman, who put the incorrect-but-convenient pieces together for herself and rolled her eyes. ‘Two minutes,’ she said sharply, moving towards the back of the room, where she emptied the large bag of linen and started organising it.

  ‘What’s going –’

  But I was on him in a flash, my hand on his mouth until he finally registered that something was very wrong. I’d talk to him later about his powers of perception.

  ‘One, your mother is here,’ I whispered. ‘And she knows you’re here as well.’

  His eyes widened.

  I looked down and deactivated the Phera-tech on my M-Band. Quentin followed suit, but not before we both registered our rating. Still a true match. After everything. I failed to stop the small cry that came from somewhere deep inside.

  ‘Two, your father isn’t, thank God,’ I said, regrouping. ‘And three, that guy I was dancing with was Morris. He’s given me your zips, but he was being monitored and we need to get out of here fast. There’s a black Range Rover across the street. Meet me there.’ I pulled the envelope from the front of my dress and shoved it at Quentin. ‘The code for driver privileges is on the front.’

  Quentin watched as I attempted to straighten the dress, his eyes darkening. When I noticed and stepped back, he suddenly grabbed me around the waist and pulled me to his chest, slamming his lips against mine.

  It was frantic. The kind of kiss that meant everything. Fear. Love. Life. Death. Hope. Devastation. Lust. It was all there, and coasting over the top of it all was the certainty that came with every touch – we were each other’s match.

  He pulled back, breathing heavily. ‘I’m sorry, I just …’ He ran a hand through his hair. ‘I had to kiss you. Seeing you dancing with someone else, I almost lost it.’

  I ran my thumb over his furrowed brow. ‘Don’t apologise.’

  ‘You look beautiful.’

  I wasn’t sure how I felt about that, since I was dressed to look like Ivy.

  ‘Though I prefer you in jeans,’ he said with a half-smile, as if reading my mind. Then he made a frustrated kind of growl. ‘I wish you didn’t drive me crazy.’

  ‘I wish I hadn’t made so many mistakes,’ I countered.

  This seemed to sober him up enough to take a step back.

  We heard people laughing just outside the door. ‘We should wait until it’s clear,’ I whispered.

  Quentin nodded and leaned back against the wall. ‘I’m sorry about last night.’

  When I didn’t say anything, he went on. ‘The lust-enhancer was Morris’s idea and I was so desperate to get to you I went along with it.’ He blew out a breath. ‘Mostly I was scared. I didn’t know if you’d still want me,’ he said in a low voice.

  ‘What do you mean?’

  He ran his hand over the back of his neck. ‘I left you down there, Maggie. For weeks and weeks, I failed you. I … I didn’t know if you’d ever forgive me for that.’ His eyes came back to mine. I was barely breathing, so afraid of what he was going to say that he had to tilt my chin up so I would look at him. ‘I know this isn’t really the time, but you look at me like you don’t know how much I love you, and I can’t take that anymore.’

  The air whooshed out of my lungs. I looked away, blinking back the unwelcome tears in my eyes.

  ‘It almost killed me seeing you that first day, Mags,’ he said. ‘Forcing myself not to look at you the moment I entered the classroom. I wanted to charge at you, scoop you up and run away. And instead I had to pretend I didn’t care. I had to hurt you, knowing you had already been through too much for one person. I’ve never hated myself so much, and mostly because …’ He trailed off.

  ‘Because there was a part of you that wanted to hurt me,’ I finished for him, no judgement in my tone.

  He blinked in surprise. ‘You knew?’

  I put my ear against the door; I could still hear people
talking just outside. We were stuck here until they moved on.

  I looked back at Quentin. ‘Sometimes giving a person a dose of his or her own medicine is tempting. Especially when they’ve hurt you so terribly.’

  He scowled in frustration. ‘It’s still not an excuse.’

  I swallowed hard and took his hand. ‘Of course it is. I have a lot to make up for.’

  ‘You did it all for your father, Maggie. I get that and I’m trying hard to let myself trust you again.’

  ‘You shouldn’t have to, Quin. If I’d just been honest with you from the beginning, maybe –’

  He cut me off with a finger to his lips when we heard the sound of footsteps moving away out in the hall.

  ‘We’ll talk about this later?’ he whispered.

  I nodded. For the first time, I found myself daring to believe that Quentin might be willing to give me another chance.

  I pressed my ear to the door again to check the hall was clear, then opened it. ‘You go first. I’ll follow close behind.’

  Quentin looked as though he was about to argue, but the woman cleared her throat behind us, making it clear our time was up. He furrowed his brow at me before slipping out the door and heading straight for the main exit doors.

  I waited ten seconds then followed suit, sending a small ‘thank you’ nod to the waitress who gave me a hassled wave.

  I could see Quentin ahead, pausing briefly to shake hands with someone then making his way through the exit doors. I knew security would have spotted him. Being followed was not something we’d be able to avoid. I just had to hope Morris had a plan.

  As I made my way past the ballroom doors, a loud cheer went up, followed by a round of applause. I paused at the doors to see what all the drama was about. My view to the main stage cleared just in time to see a man wearing a black tuxedo remove his mask, revealing his identity to the surprised and elated guests.

  Even I was shocked to see the President of the United States smiling before the room, his turquoise mask in hand, the perfect complement to the matching flower in his lapel.