His hand stiffened at her back, as though he could feel it too.
Annalise stared at their reflection through the mirror, his and hers, standing together as though they were one. That was until he broke the spell, zipped her up in one swift motion, and took a step back.
"This will do, fix your hair." He said and marched out of the room.
Annalise was left stunned, she felt completely and utterly stupid, and embarrassed. Her reflection in the mirror had turned a bright cherry red.
"What are you doing?" She asked herself. How could she let herself get carried away by a simple touch, as though she'd never been touched before.
He had been right, the dress matched her eyes. The neck was low cut, revealing just slightly the outline of her cleavages. It hugged her figure, showing off curves she didn't realize she had. It made her feel elegant, beautiful and everything synonymous.
She picked out a black stiletto to go with the dress and a black purse before heading back into her room. Quickly, she combed her hair and put it up into a high ponytail. She didn't think Nicolas would grant her the grace to try to fix her wild manes, and honestly, she didn't have the strength to.
Her mind was wild, moving in different directions trying to deduce what it was tonight held for her, what it was Nicolás held for her. He was still a complete stranger to her, an enigma, she couldn't read him, his smile didn't mean he was humored and it didn't mean he wasn't.
Her thoughts reeled back to how he'd dangled her in front of Sir Frederick like she was his to play with. She hoped against all hopes that there wouldn't be a repetition of it tonight again.
The door barged open and Nicolás walked in. "Let's go." He said and turned away as though he was avoiding looking at her.
"Nicolás?" She called, mustering all the courage she had.
He stopped, his back to her.
"What is going to happen tonight?" She took in a breath. "I know you don't care about me enough to want to take me out, so I just need to..."
Her words were cut short when he turned to her abruptly.
"You just need what, Laura?" He asked, his brows cocked questioningly.
"I need your reassurance that I won't get to see all... I'm not used to all of these, I can't see violence, and... And murder. I'm not like you." She stuttered through her words, picking and rearranging them in her head hoping to God that she wouldn't say the wrong thing and be her own ruin.
He walked closer to her, sucking all of the air in her lungs.
"Go on, sweetheart. My interest has been piqued, what am I like?"
Annalise pinched her palms with her other fingers, biting her lips to keep from crying. Was this right? That a man made her feel all of these things? Hot and cold? Scared witless one second, and completely in awe of him the next.
"You aren't speaking." He said, stating the obvious. His warm breath fanning her face, his tall frame towering over hers, swallowing her, she had to look up to see him.
"What am I like?" He asked again, slower this time enunciating each word.
"I'm not okay with murder, and blood makes me feel sick, and I hate violence." She finally said, looking into his eyes, locked in his gaze.
His lips twitched. "And I am?"
She knew what he was doing, taunting her, asking her all of these things for his own humor and she didn't know how having her fidget, melting under his icy stare and restoring back again, how any of that could provide him any sort of entertainment, but she had said it - that she wasn't like him, and so she could never understand him, she just didn't want to be a part of all these, she wouldn't survive it.
"I understand you've lived your life a certain type of way." Annalise started, she had no idea where she was gaining this confidence from.
"Cut the bullshit, sweetheart," He said, the obvious humor dancing in his eyes. "It's a yes or no from you."
"You... You killed a man, and his blood was all over you and..." She couldn't go on.
He turned away with a humorless laugh. "And to think I'd thought to myself that I was being a hell lot of considerate when I'd sent you out of the room."
He took a step closer, and Annalise took one backward, as though they were dancing - a beautiful, ironic dance that constitutes him intimidating her, and she trying to decide if she should run out of the room or simply just burst into tears.
"I'm sorry..."
"You apologize a lot too much, do you realize that? It's aggravating when you do it." He said.
Annalise was shocked at the harshness of his words. He had said it so passively like it was something he'd barely noticed but had as though his words were just that, mere words but to her, they were all of that and more, because they were true. She apologized too much, at every inconvenience, the ones that had to do with her and the ones that didn't because it was how she knew how to live, it was all she'd lived as.
She had felt as though she was an irritant, a disturbance to the Armillos and she didn't want to be any more so she'd learned to make herself smaller, to shrink until she was unnoticeable, and to apologize if she was, apologize if she caught any semblance of attention to herself no matter how little of it. It was a slap to her face that Nicolas called it irritating because she didn't know anyhow else to live.
He was watching her intently now, with slight fascination in his eyes as though she fascinated him but she knew that wasn't so. She wasn't sure of his feelings, but she was sure of herself and she was not in the least bit fascinating.
"I can't promise there won't be all of what you hate, Laura. You'll hate me more when you see what you're up against, but it can't be helped." He took a step back.
"I'll be waiting for you downstairs." And with that, he strode out of the room without as much as a backward glance.