High Risk

by Simona Ahrnstedt

  “Hi there, you planning on introducing me to your guest?” she heard a man’s voice say.

  David Hammar had come over to them. Ambra recognized him immediately. He was carrying a child in his arms, but he still managed to look slightly dictatorial. She could see why he and Tom liked one another. There was something austere and solid about them both.

  “David, this is Ambra Vinter. Ambra, this is David Hammar and his daughter, Molly. And here’s Natalia,” he added when an elegant dark-haired woman appeared next to them. Ambra shook hands with them both. David and Natalia studied her with curiosity in their eyes. Something told her they both knew Ellinor but were far too polite to let on.

  “Nice to meet you, Ambra,” Natalia said in her modulated upper-class voice. Everything about her screamed money and elite, from the seemingly simple hairstyle to the expensive dress and enormous engagement ring. But her eyes were kind, and she looked at Ambra with what seemed like genuine warmth. “I recognize your name,” she said questioningly.

  “I’m a journalist, a reporter with Aftonbladet. Though I’m here as a private individual,” she quickly reassured them as one of Sweden’s biggest sports stars sailed by.

  Natalia smiled again. “That may be just as well. My little brother’s very good at organizing parties. Things tend to get a little wild once the kids go home to bed.”

  “And all the kids’ parents,” David added, shifting his daughter in his arms. Another guest came over and tried to gain the Hammars’ attention, and they excused themselves and moved on.

  “Everyone’s so beautiful here,” Ambra whispered as she followed David and Natalia with her eyes.

  “But you’re the most beautiful,” Tom said.

  She grinned. It was an over-the-top compliment, but she decided to take it. Tom placed a hand at the base of her spine and guided her through the crowd.

  “Where are we going?” she asked.

  He didn’t reply, just gently pushed her through the room, in through a door, through another room and another door, and out into a room full of coats on hangers. He turned to her, firmly pushed her backward, until she bumped into a wall and couldn’t get away from his intense eyes. Her heart was beating expectantly, and he placed one hand on her cheek, used his other to caress the nape of her neck, and then he kissed her. Gently, intensely, properly.

  “Finally,” she mumbled into his mouth.

  Finally, she thought, allowing herself to be swallowed up by his kiss.

  They stood there, kissing in the coatroom. Heard the murmur of the party, the occasional rustle of someone coming and going, but back there, in their little corner, the two of them were alone. He pulled away, touched her mouth, caressed her with his gaze. “Hi,” he said quietly.

  “Hi,” she said, smiling, and her heart swelled. She felt the desire coursing through her body, happiness that they had found one another, and that maybe, just maybe, there could be something between them after all. It was in the air, this newness. He had introduced her to his friends. He kissed her as if she was the most desirable woman in the world. That had to mean something.

  “I need to fix my makeup,” she said. Her lips felt swollen, and her hair probably looked more ruffled than elegant.

  “You’re perfect,” he said, a finger tracing her jawline down to her neck.

  She shivered. “But still.”

  He glanced around, stepped forward, and pulled a heavy velvet drape she hadn’t noticed before to one side. “Will this do?” he asked.

  Ambra peered into the room behind the curtain and saw an enormous golden mirror, candles, and a velvet stool.

  Tom followed her in, stood behind her as she checked her eyes and searched for powder and lip gloss in her bag. He kissed her neck and she leaned back, enjoying the sight of the two of them together in the mirror.

  “You’re so sexy,” he said, kissing her shoulder. “You have such pretty shoulders.” He kissed her again. “And a sexy neck.” His hand moved up her back and around her rib cage.

  They stared at one another. The air in the tiny room had practically vanished. It was as though everything around them was charged, had started to vibrate.

  She could barely breathe. She placed her hands on the little dresser in front of her and met his eyes in the mirror.

  “Tom,” she breathed.

  With one fluid movement, he pulled the drapes closed. The fabric was so thick and heavy that it dampened the murmur of the party. But it was just fabric, and if anyone came in . . . Tom’s hand moved down over her ass, gentle on the thin fabric. Ambra shuddered, clutched the little dresser tight. His hand caressed her, and she fumbled behind her back, grabbed his other hand, and moved it to her breast. A shockwave of desire rushed down her thighs, pooling in her stomach.

  His eyes looked back at her in the mirror, completely black. The candles flickered. Slowly, he pulled her dress up over her hips, and groaned quietly when he saw her garter belt—it wasn’t all that comfortable, but judging by Tom’s eyes when he studied her legs in her new underwear, it was worth the discomfort. His finger moved along the top of her stocking and then he cupped her, between her legs.

  “I waxed,” she mumbled. It was an incredibly sexy feeling, actually, and when he touched her through her panties the feeling was more intense than before.

  “For me?” he asked.

  A smile tugged at her lips. “Not for anyone else, anyway,” she said. “Just a little. And I started taking birth control,” she added.

  He touched her again. It was so incredibly arousing to feel the friction of the rough lace.

  Ambra moaned, would never have thought she would be turned on by the risk of being found, and at a party like this. But she moved her ass backward until she came into contact with his body, gently ground against him and felt his arousal through the various layers of fabric.

  “God, Ambra,” he managed to groan.

  She replied by pressing herself more firmly against him.

  He unbuttoned his trousers, pushed her panties to one side and moved toward her, caressed her opening, soft, questioning. She trembled, clung to the dresser.

  He raised his hand to her cheek again, and she turned her head and took his middle finger in her mouth, sucked it. He groaned, placed a hand on her hip, and pushed into her. Slowly, he moved inside, filled her until she panted.

  “Is that okay?” he asked.

  God, yes. It was beyond okay. She nodded, hoped her dress would survive.

  He pulled his finger from her mouth and ran his hand down to her breast, stomach, and between her legs, all while he moved inside her with slow, deep thrusts. He made her part her legs and began to touch her.

  “Tom,” she panted.

  It felt so good. Warmth spread through her, she was nothing but body, desire. She gripped the dresser and saw herself bounce with every thrust, saw her own eyes become veiled, glossy, saw his hands, his fingers moving. She tightened her hold on the dresser and came, against his hand, around his body, shook and shuddered, saw his eyes fixed on her as she came, saw how it turned him on to see her like that, to watch them in the mirror. She felt herself tighten around him, draw him in.

  He placed both hands on her hips and held her tight, thrust so hard that she had to support herself on the wall using one hand.

  “Yes,” she whimpered. God, she was going to come again, it felt so good—he was everywhere—and then he came too. At the very moment she exploded again, he came deep inside her, held on to her, stopped moving inside her, still without tearing his eyes from her face in the mirror.

  They stood there like that, panting, staring. She could barely believe it was true, that it was really happening.

  Tom stroked her shoulder, kissed her neck. She shivered.

  He found a paper napkin and handed it to her. “In case you want it.”

  A primitive part of her didn’t want to, wanted to keep his scent and smell on her, but while he discreetly looked away, she quickly wiped herself off and then straightened her panties
and dress.

  “Good party,” she said, slightly embarrassed, slightly giggly. She had never done anything like this before, never experienced anything like it.

  “One of the best I’ve been to.” He smiled, pulling back the drape when she nodded she was ready. Cool air rushed in.

  “Wait a second, I forgot to fix my lip gloss,” she said with a laugh.

  His eyes lingered on her lips. “They look perfect,” he mumbled. “Like you’ve been properly kissed.” He bent down and kissed her again. “I’ll wait out here.”

  But Ambra shook her head. “Let’s meet back out there. I want more champagne.”

  “Hurry then,” he said.

  Ambra paused in the alcove. She stared at herself in the mirror, smiled at the woman looking back at her, a sexy, exciting woman in love. Yes, she was in love with Tom. She fixed her makeup. Plumped up her hair, adjusted her breasts in her bra, and straightened the strap on one shoe. Once she was happy with her appearance and had checked and double-checked everything was how it should be, she made her way back out to the party.

  She spotted Tom’s broad back, felt another flutter in her chest. He was standing with David, and it seemed they were talking about something important. Their shoulders were tense, their gestures brief. David caught sight of her. He smiled, but his eyes looked concerned, and then he turned away and shook his head. Tom looked up and seemed distressed. Had someone heard them behind the drapes? Was David angry? No, it was something else; she knew it instinctively. Suddenly, the hair on the back of her arms stood on end. The closer she got, the more she felt that something wasn’t right. Tom gave her a serious look. All his happiness was gone, all his desire and carefree pleasure. Worry crept up her spine. Whatever was going on, she wasn’t going to like it.

  David rubbed his chin. Ambra tried to catch Tom’s eye. What was happening?

  “Ambra, I’m so sorry . . .” he began, and his face seemed pained, as though he had done something he was ashamed of. Or regretted.

  Anxiety had her heart in its iron grip now.

  “What’s going on?” she asked.

  Tom opened his mouth, closed it. Opened it again. “Ambra, I . . .” he began.

  And then she caught sight of a blond head behind him. A cold shiver ran down her spine.

  It couldn’t be.

  But deep down, Ambra knew she was fooling herself. She had been so confident. Had started to think she was someone, that she had the right to more than she’d already been given. For a brief, fantastic moment, she had been arrogant enough to think she might actually mean something to someone, that she would get to be a completely ordinary person. To be someone’s first choice. It was so stupid of her. And now here it was.

  Her punishment.

  Tom moved to one side.

  The blond head turned, and Ambra looked straight into Ellinor’s blue eyes.

  “Hi, Ambra,” Ellinor said. Her lips curled into what might have been meant as a smile, but there was an aggression in her eyes, a sharpness Ambra had never noticed before. She slurred slightly, and her blue eyes were shining. She looked pretty in her pale yellow evening dress, a real beauty actually. Next to Tom’s broad-shouldered masculinity, she looked like an angel, bright and sweet. “You’re here? Tom didn’t say anything about that.” She leaned against Tom’s arm, as though she had the right. Ambra couldn’t help but notice that Tom didn’t pull away.

  “What are you doing here?” Ambra asked, though part of her already knew the answer.

  Ellinor laughed. “I was invited, of course. Tom asked me if I wanted to come with him.” She squeezed his arm. “So here I am.” She looked straight into Ambra’s eyes, a challenge, and delivered the death blow: “I left Nilas.”

  Chapter 49

  Ambra looked at Tom in shock. His face was twisted in anguish. But he let Ellinor cling to him and didn’t say a word. Ambra tried to think of something intelligent to say. The whole situation was utterly bizarre.

  Ellinor pressed herself against Tom, her breasts against his bicep, the way women have done for hundreds of years. Ambra didn’t know where to look. At Tom’s grim face or Ellinor’s curvy body. Ellinor had a strange glimmer in her eye; she looked almost manic. Was she drunk? And why the hell was she here?

  “What are you doing here, Ambra? Are you here for work? Writing about all the lovely guests? What a coincidence,” Ellinor said.

  “Isn’t it. I didn’t know you were in Stockholm,” Ambra said tensely. She couldn’t bring herself to look at Tom.

  Ellinor teetered and Tom’s arm shot out, moving protectively behind her back. It was a gesture Ambra found physically painful, like a knife to the heart. “Tom invited me, so I couldn’t resist coming down, seeing so many old friends. Plus, I needed a change of scenery.” Ellinor’s mouth was smiling, but the look in her eyes was . . . Ambra tried to read it. Insecure?

  “I didn’t know Tom invited you,” Ambra said. This time, she looked up at him. His jaw was tense.

  “I almost didn’t recognize him at first,” Ellinor continued. Her voice was slightly shrill, a little forced. “Can you believe he finally shaved off that beard? So handsome.” She turned her face to him. “Thank you, darling.”

  Tom didn’t deny a thing.

  Why was she even surprised? She had duped herself and now here she was, getting humiliated. It wasn’t Tom’s fault. She only had herself to blame.

  Ellinor swayed again; she really did seem drunk. Her dress was close-fitting around her hips, and the heels on her feminine shoes were slim and high. Ambra couldn’t help but notice how the same hand that had recently clutched her thigh in passion as he thrust into her in the small powder room now gripped Ellinor’s shoulders, familiar and comfortable. And why shouldn’t it? Everything Tom had ever wanted was standing right next to him.

  Once again, she had been dropped. He had wanted Ellinor back the entire time, never hid that fact from her. It was just that she d been stupid enough to forget it.

  “I hope you’re a little happy to see me anyway,” Ellinor said to Tom. She turned to Ambra and explained: “We were texting one another these past few days, and I suddenly felt like I wanted to be here. Sometimes you just need to be reminded of how you really feel.”

  “Absolutely,” Ambra said. For what was a little electric passion in the long run? She should have learned by now. That no one would ever choose her. That there would always be someone else who was prettier, sweeter, and easier to spend time with. Ambra Vinter was replaceable. Easy to leave. Easy to get tired of. She looked over to Tom. He met her eye, but his expression was impossible to read. She couldn’t figure the man out. Did he feel sorry for her? Was he embarrassed? Did he care? She had no damn idea anymore.

  Ellinor leaned in to Tom’s chest, and the gesture cut through Ambra like a long, tortured jolt, as though someone were sawing her in half. She wanted to lean against Tom’s chest, she wanted him. It was all so humiliating. Still wanting him despite the fact that he was literally standing in front of her, choosing Ellinor before her eyes. Of course, Ellinor wanted him back. Ambra knew how it felt to be with Tom. Ellinor must have experienced it hundreds, maybe even thousands of times.

  The jealousy was like an animal inside her—it tore at her stomach, her chest. Cut her to shreds from the inside. She was nothing but sex. A rebound lay. A quickie in a cupboard. Ellinor was everything else. Blond, beautiful Ellinor, with her feminine body and her helpless behavior. It was obvious that she activated Tom’s core values: his concern, protective instincts, loyalty.

  Suddenly, Ambra felt dirty. The expensive dress and the sky-high heels, the luxurious underwear, the jewelry—none of it felt sophisticated and elegant any longer; it felt slutty and fake. It wasn’t her; it felt like a costume.

  “I’m glad I came, anyway,” Ellinor said stubbornly.

  “Of course,” Tom said. His voice was like rocks rubbing against one another. Ellinor flashed Ambra a quick look, and Ambra could have sworn she saw triumph in those drunk blue eyes.
>
  It hurt so much that she thought she was about to break down. She gripped her purse tightly, forced herself to stand up straight, to swallow her humiliation, disappointment, and all those other embarrassing, unwanted feelings.

  “Ambra, I . . .” he said.

  But she interrupted him with a firm shake of the head. Enough. She took a deep breath and then forced a smile, hoped it looked somewhat genuine and not just like humiliation and teeth. She wasn’t going to cry, wasn’t going to cause a scene. She still had some pride left. “I’m sure you have a lot to talk about, so I’ll just . . .” She made a vague gesture to the rest of the room.

  But she didn’t know anyone else here, she thought, on the verge of panic. She turned and left with as much dignity as she could muster, not too quick and not too slow. But as she squeezed her purse tight and tried to swallow the lump in her throat, she realized that she needed to get away. She heard Tom shout something behind her. Against her better judgment, she was still hoping he would come after her, choose her. But since this was reality, not a movie or TV show, of course he stayed with Ellinor.

  Ambra glanced around. What should she do? She spotted the advertising guy she’d been talking with earlier. He was now deep in conversation with a famous actress. She started to feel genuinely desperate, clutched her bag tighter and tighter, fought to control her breathing. She was dangerously close to . . . to . . .

  “Hey, it is you! I thought I recognized you!” She couldn’t place the voice and spun around. Thankfully, Tom and Ellinor had been swallowed up by the crowd. She saw a man who seemed familiar.

  He hit his chest gently and grinned. “It’s me. Henrik Stål.”