Icarus | Z.M.

36 | Wine

Victoria Tomlinson

The sound of violins playing, accompanied by a soft piano echoed through the large room, bouncing off the marble flooring and against the walls. The sound of my stilettos clicking against the floor covered the sound of the classical music.

I had on a black dress, short, maybe too short for comfort. Long black sleeves and a deep cut V-neck, exposing too much of my chest. But it was what I had been told to wear tonight, and I didn't get a say, no matter how on display my body felt.

The sound of my heels, the only heels in the building besides my mother's drew attention. With every click, heads would look up. Old men, they'd hear a woman, they smile, greet me, raise their glasses of champagne to me as I walked by. I felt like something being shown off, paraded right through the corridor, people stared with every step I took.

My hand was down by my sides, and I was picking at my own fingers, trying to hide the anxiety from showing on my face. There was no doubt that my fingers would start to bleed by the end of the night, they probably already had.

Zayn's hand rested on the small of my back as we walked through the entrance to the home we were dining in tonight, leading me through into the dining room to sit for dinner. He was in full black as usual, suit and tie, made to fit him perfectly. Nobody had been chosen to fill the empty seat that Zayn had sat in the last time we were at a dinner, so again, he would be sitting beside me. And this time he had a suit made for him, tailored to his body perfectly, so he would meet my dad's standards.

I had a cigarette in the car before I got out, hoping it would calm my anxiety down at least slightly, but nothing seemed to help. Each one of these dinners I attended, the worst it felt.

As soon as we approached the large doorway that led into the dining room, we stopped walking. The room was full of men, all in their suits, chatting, laughing, having a good time. There were rows of tables, some with people sitting at them already, and some with empty seats and a name card for the person that would be there by the time food was served.

I could see my dad, greeting people that sat down at his table, the table I would be at in a couple of minutes. The only thing keeping me sane was the fact I could see Louis and his bodyguard and that I had Zayn with me. Hopefully I could talk to him instead of just sitting there being ignored the entire night like I usually was.

"Vic." Zayn's voice said softly from beside me, I looked at him.

I was sure he could see the nerves in my expression. The last time we were at one of these, Zayn got shot.

"I'm here to keep you safe, not just for you to use as arm candy," he said, a small reassuring smile on his face.

I smiled back at him, a genuine smile.

"I'm going to keep you safe," He repeated, reaching up to move a strand of my hair from my chest to fall down my back, watching his hand as he did so. He met my eyes again. "Nobody is going to touch you or hurt you. Alright?"

I nodded, letting out a breath. "Okay."

I leaned back from him a bit when I felt like our faces were too close. I didn't want anyone thinking I could tolerate him, I was absolutely terrified of anyone ever finding out we'd fucked, I trusted Zayn not to say anything, and I was never going to mutter a word.

But I felt like if we were too close, if he touched me at all, if I looked at him wrong, everyone was going to find out.

"C'mon," Zayn nudged me, resting his hand on my back again. "I know you're nervous. But it'll be fine."

I pulled myself away from him. Zayn's hand stayed hovering in the air for a second before he dropped it to his side with a small huff, then shortly after walked to catch up with me as I made my way further into the room.