In a city of sheep ruled by wolves, she became the python that pulled them apart.
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Sage Black is a girl of little opportunities, forced to see the seamy side of life growing up in New York. Witnessing what lengths billionaires will go through t...
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The air is too cold and biting, but I relish it. The sheer material that covers my arms does nothing to warm me, and goose-bumps rise over my bare back, but for all that, I still feel released from the smothering atmosphere in the hall. The sky is velvet blue-black. Not a single star keeps the lonely, half-moon that hovers over the luminous cityscape company. The only stars here are the glittering yellow lights of the city and the red blinking lights of distance radio towers.
Footsteps approach behind me, and I worry that I have to go back inside. To my relief, the stranger that stands next to me is Theo. I don't have to look to realize that—only his distinct scent is enough for me. We silently stand side by side for a few minutes, leaning on the granite balcony railing as the graceful music from inside floats around us when a thought occurs to me.
"I've never seen a starry night," I announce softly.
"The city lights . . . The polluted air. I've only ever seen pictures. How sad is that?"
"Huh." The ghost of a smile makes its way on his lips. "We were in Montana this week. At a guest ranch. My dad always took us there when I was younger, but I don't remember a thing then. Only now, it might be my favorite place on Earth."
"Montana?"
"I know, sounds like a bore compared to New York. Maybe that's why I like it so much. It's just acres and acres of land and mountains under the starriest nights."
I glance at him from the corner of my eye. He's leaning on his elbows, eyes distant over the city. The moonlight illuminates his face charmingly, and I realize that he's cleanly shaven for tonight. It highlights his strong jaw.
"Why'd you take me to your mother?"
"I didn't mean to, but she was bound to ask me about you. It was just better that we got it out of the way," he says. "And you're doing it again."
"Doing what?"
"Observing. Me. And you're trying not to make it obvious, but I don't think you realize just how not subtle you are."
I can't help but laugh at his knowing expression. "Subtlety is nothing more than pretty wrapping for the truth. It unnerves people. I like that."
He moves my curled hair to the side, revealing more of my bare back. It's a simple gesture, but I shiver under the brush of his fingers. "Like this subtle little python here?"
I bite my lips to hide a grin, but to no avail. "Madam Clé—Mrs. Roman's stylist almost fainted right then and there when I'd asked her for a backless dress. Especially after forcing her not to conceal my scar."
"I like it," he says vaguely, his lips quirking in a little smirk.
"Which part exactly?" I dare ask.
"All of it. The tattoo, the dress . . ." he trails on.
When I feel his stare on the side of my face for too long, I face him. He's never made me feel like my scar stood out until now, not like anyone else. People often steal glances when they think I'm not looking, trying not make it seem obvious. But around him, sometimes I forget it exists, and wonder if it's invisible to him. My cheeks flood with heat at the attention he loads my scar so heavily with.
