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“Tonight we unleash Felicity Harper onto the world,” Cleo said, and the grin that spread across their faces reminded me of the Grinch when he stole Christmas.
CHAPTER TWO
First, Second, and Third
Felicity
10:53 p.m.
“So explain how this works again?” I asked, placing the number thirteen sticker on my chest and heading farther into a mansion filled with people of every age and race.
For my first and only night out at Sugar Party, as they called it, Cleo had spent almost two hours curling my hair and putting on my makeup. Thankfully she hadn’t gone overboard and chose to go natural. She was dressed in pink, and Mark wore jeans, a causal shirt, and a jacket. Apparently it was to work his young, broke college student angle. He even thought of bringing a sketchbook to add intrigue. Even with all of that, it was funny how they were more excited I had finally come out with them than the fact they themselves were here. Mark winked at a man in the corner next to the grand stairs, who had his long hair pulled into a bun and was holding a beer.
Mark made sure to put some distance between us, and I raised my eyebrow at that. When we walked out to back near the pool, he said, “So basically, at these parties, you just want to be seen. Usually the two types of people who come up to you are the super cocky ones, which isn’t really a bad thing other than the fact that you have to listen to them talk about themselves for hours, or they tend to be oppressive and might scare off others.”
Yeah, that’s a no. “Or?”
“Or you get the older, sweet
ones who casually try to start a conversation.” Cleo jumped in, waving to a man who had to be in his sixties. He was more Hollywood sixties. I liked his fedora, though. “Anyone else will contact you via the website if you catch their interest tonight. So catch their interest! Now that you’ve been briefed, let’s regroup in half an hour.”
She strode off toward the dance floor under the canopy, working her way through until she was in the center where the light was brightest.
“Good luck,” Mark said, moving toward the edge of the pool. He took off his jacket and placed it on a chair before he lifted his shirt, exposing his sculpted abs to the world. He even went so far as to take off his shoes and jeans and jump in, getting a series of full cheers and whistles.
I was so out of my league here. They were both professionals at this, and I couldn’t help but recall the number of watches, purses, shoes, and even cars they both had. Mark and I had joked that the reason Cleo didn’t steal anymore was because she’d found a new way to get what she wanted. But I didn’t want this.
For a split second, I thought it might be fun to explore my wild side again, but I remembered now why I didn’t. Bad things happened when I wasn’t in control of myself. Turning back the way I’d come, I returned to the house, my heels clicking against the marble flooring. I couldn’t leave just yet, seeing as how I’d come in Mark’s car. But no one said I couldn’t have fun.
Heading up the stairs, I ran my hands along the railing. Cleo had said the house belonged to big director, or was it a CEO of some kind? Either way, it was nice. Classic high ceilings with white crown molding, and on the walls were large movie posters from the sixties: The Good, the Bad and the Ugly; Psycho; Midnight Cowboy…it went on and on. I found myself mesmerized by them as I went farther and farther away from the stairs and down the corridor until I was standing in front of a set of double doors.
I glanced back, but no one was there. My hands hovered over the knob.
“It’s just a door.” To a room no one else was near, in a house I didn’t own, in the middle of the night.
I twisted the knob and entered. All that build-up was for nothing. It was just a piano room. I wanted to shut the door and forget about it, but I couldn’t. It had been so long that my fingers itched for the chance to play again.
Would I even remember how?
Just thinking about it made my eyes water.
Closing the door behind me, I moved over to the white grand piano. It overlooked the pool, but I didn’t pay attention to that. All I could see was the instrument, and all I wanted to do was play. I took off my heels and dropped my purse on the floor and sat. After I lifted up the key cover, I ran my hands over the top of the keys.
“Miss me?” I whispered as if it were my old piano. Then, with a tiny smile, I pressed down on C. Biting my lip, I took a deep breath and slammed the keys, the music vibrating through me. And just like that, it all came back. I played—fast, slow, loud, soft, angry. I played, just like I used to. It felt…it felt amazing.
I had no idea how long I’d been playing when I froze mid-chord, lifting my hands off the keys. The clock on the mantle chimed as it struck midnight.
“That was quite rude.”
With a jump, I turned around to find a man dressed in a pair of black pants and a black button-down shirt, leaning into a corner of the window.
He couldn’t be real. He was too handsome to be real. Black hair, green eyes that shone in the light streaming in from the window, the first couple buttons of his jacket undone, exposing his neck and the top of his well-sculpted chest. I had seen attractive men before, I had seen men who knew they were attractive, but he looked like sex. Like he had just had it, he was going to have it again, and he had mastered it.
“Sorry, I didn’t know anyone was in here.”
His gaze traveled down the length of my body before stopping at the number stuck on my breast. Something changed in his eyes, like I had pissed him off somehow. He glanced out the window at the others by the pool.
“You do know the only way someone can take care of you is if they see you, right?” he said more harshly than he needed to.
