Stealing the Heart of Mr. Steele

We saw the police rushing into the hotel and headed straight for the elevator as Tilly and I made our way to the celebration dinner. The

room became silent and still, but as soon as the doors closed, the room became noisy with suspicion as people made guesses about who and what just happened.

Some are even considering not coming back next year. "This show is obviously cursed," a woman in a tweed suit sniffed, "And it is poorly managed. The security here is FAR too lax."

I can't argue with that statement. This event has had far more excitement than I'd ever want to experience again. Between almost getting kidnapped, someone trying to shoot Atlas, and now this, whatever it is, I think I could use a nice vacation. Maybe I could take a break somewhere tropical when all this is done.

When we finally make our way into the dining room, we find our assigned seats quickly. Within minutes, a waiter comes by to take our dinner orders.

Tilly gives me a very strange look when I ask for a side of maple syrup with my breaded fish instead of the usual coleslaw or tartar sauce. "Actually, can I get the tartar sauce too?"

Tilly continues to watch me in a weird combination of disgust after the food arrives. At one point she opens her mouth to say something, but promptly closes it when she sees me dunk my fish into my syrup before adding a dollop of tartar sauce and taking a gleeful bite. "Th Her face pales, going green around the edges as she says, "You have a piece of tartar sauce stuck in your teeth."

I'm about to thank her when the emcee begins to announce the evening's winners. Our table bounces up and down with excitement when we hear that

Matilda Madison received Best of Show for the 5th year in a row, but it wasn't until he announced that Cordeilia Louise received Best Newcomer that our whole

table exploded into wild cheers. Tilly kisses my cheek, wrapping me into a tight hug.

Waiters begin to move through the crowd delivering celebratory champagne.

"A toast," Tilly declares as she grabs a glass for each of us. I take one with a cute strawberry floating on the surface. "To Cordelia! The real star of the evening!" People at the other tables hear our toast and cheer along, remembering my heroism from earlier this

evening.

Placing the glass on my lips I hesitate. Alcohol is bad for pregnancies. It can cause all sorts of birth defects.

Seeing my hesitation, Tilly whispers in my ear. "Don't worry, a small glass of wine won't hurt the baby." I look at her and almost start to cry. "Tilly." She knows, Dear God, she knows!

"Shhh," she holds me smiling and kissing my cheek. "Don't worry. I'll keep your secret for as long as you need me to. But if the winner of The Best Newcomer Award doesn't take a drink during a toast in her honor, people with cameras are going to start asking questions." She's right. The press needs even less reason than that to start a nasty rumor.

Smiling, we clink glasses and I take a long drink. It burns a bubbly trail down my throat, the effects of the

alcohol going straight to my head. Feeling a little dizzy. I start to sit when I feel a hand on my elbow, steadying me.

"Are you okay," Atlas asks. I look up into his sparkling blue eyes and manage a small smile. -

"I'm fine," I shake my head. "It's just... that little bit of champagne was enough to make me lightheaded," I confess, regaining my footing and shaking free of his grip. "Is there something I can help you with?"

"Dance with me," his voice is almost demanding as he reaches for my hand. "Please."

Tilly looks between the two of us and a smile fills her face. Of course, she's figured everything out. Who else would be the father of my child?

"Go on," she pushes me towards him. "I'll be fine here on my own."

Against my better judgment, I let Atlas sweep me into his arms. He's an incredible dancer. That much hasn't changed about him.

But everything else. There is something different about him tonight.

"That comb looks beautiful in your hair," he smiles warmly, an expression I've never seen directed towards me. "Perfect."This text is property of Nô/velD/rama.Org.

"Thank you," I gasp at the unexpected compliment. "Was it really your grandmother's?"

"It was," he confirms, spinning us in a simple waltz. "Now it is yours."

"Atlas, this must be an antique, worth..."

"It's priceless," he dips me. "One-of-a-kind. Just like you."

This can't be Atlas. This must be a trick.

The song shifts to something slower. I push myself away, determined to find a place to calm my nerves. I'm sorry, I need to go."

He pulls me in closer. "Stay with me, Cordelia."

I must be a fool because I let him pull me all the way into his arms. We have never danced this closely to one another before, with our bodies in perfect alignment. The warmth from his core radiates from under his clothes, making me feel warm all over. "Can I ask you something?" I gaze through my lashes, licking my lips, my heart fluttering as I ask, "Why couldn't things have been different between us?"

"Maybe things still can be."

My heart stops. Did he just suggest that things could be different between us?

I should tell him about the baby. I need to tell him. "Atlas, there's something you should know. I'm..."

Stumbling, I collapse into his arms,

"Cordelia," Atlas looks terrified. "What happened? Are you okay?" 1

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