“No, thank you. I don’t drink,” she replied politely, smiling at the request.
“Really? I thought you had to be drunk to be so happy and lively!”
“I’ll take that as a compliment!” she said, smiling. The light flicker of pain in his eyes made her say, “But I also think I’ve taken you back to unpleasant memories.”
“May be. May be not,” he added nonchalantly.
She was intrigued. It was unsettling for her to be intrigued. She preferred intriguing.
“Care to dance?” he asked.
“I’d gladly. But the alcohol seems to be doing it’s trick fast,” pointing at the man who’d suddenly opened a bottle of champagne in the middle of the dance floor.
“I’ll shield you well and keep you protected, don’t worry,” he assured her.
Smiling, she got up but as she stepped out onto the dance floor, flashes of her past whirled past.
“Would he be her fourth kill?”
“Not before I know his story,” she answered to herself.