The Gala

Two weeks later, the tension was unbearable.

Miller had invited her to the Police Benevolent Association Gala at the Met Museum. It was the event of the season. Elena wore a deep emerald green gown that hugged curves she usually hid under oversized cardigans.

She was dancing with Miller in the Temple of Dendur. The music was swelling, the champagne was flowing.

"You look breathtaking, Ellie," Miller said, pulling her close. "I was thinking... maybe after this, we could go back to my place?"

It was the next step. The logical progression.

"I..." Elena hesitated.

A hand tapped Miller’s shoulder.

"Cutting in," a voice said.

Miller turned, annoyed, and then paled.

Nico Valenti stood there. He wasn't invited. The Valentis were the reason half the cops in the room had jobs, and the other half had ulcers.

"Mr. Valenti," Miller stammered. "This is a police function."

"I paid for the band," Nico said smoothly. He looked at Elena. "Dance with me."

It wasn't a question. Miller, sensing the shark in the water, stepped back.

Nico pulled Elena into his arms. He held her differently than Miller. Closer. Harder. His hand on the small of her back was a brand.

They moved across the floor. The other couples seemed to fade away.

"Green," Nico murmured, looking down at her. "You wore green."

"It's my favorite color."

"I know. It matches your eyes when you're angry."

"I am angry."

"Good. Anger is passion. Indifference is what I can't handle." Nico spun her, dipping her low. "Does he touch you?"

"Nico..."

"Does he touch you like this?" Nico’s hand slid up her back, resting at the nape of her neck. His thumb caressed her pulse point.

"Stop it," Elena whispered, her heart hammering. "Everyone is watching. You're the Don. I'm an analyst. This is... dangerous."

"Let them watch," Nico growled. "Let them see that the Good Girl has a shadow."

He danced her away from the center of the room, toward the coat check alcove. It was shadowy and quiet.

He backed her against the wall of coats.

"Tell me you love him," Nico demanded, his face tortured. "Tell me you love the Golden Boy, and I will walk away. I will never haunt you again."

Elena looked up at him. She wanted to lie. She wanted to say yes, she loved the safety, the normalcy.

But she couldn't lying to Nico.

"I can't," she whispered.

Nico let out a ragged breath. He buried his face in her neck, inhaling her scent. "You are poison, Ellie. You are the one thing I can't ruin. If I take you, I drag you into the dark. I stain you."

"Maybe I don't want to be clean," Elena said, gripping his lapels. "Maybe I'm tired of being good."

Nico groaned. He lifted his head, his lips hovering over hers. "God help me."

He was about to close the distance, to finally cross the line, when his phone buzzed violently in his pocket.

He froze. The spell broke.

He checked the screen. His face went cold. The mask slammed back into place.

"I have to go," Nico said, stepping back. He looked at her one last time, a look of longing and despair. "Stay away from Miller, Elena. Please."

He vanished into the night, leaving her shivering in her emerald dress.