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Niles got right to the point. He pulled a cream-colored envelope from his jacket pocket. “I brought you this. As I said, Mr. Donnelly doesn’t know about it, but I’m used to doing whatever I feel is right, especially when it comes to him.”
Jaz hesitated to extend her hand, but again, she couldn’t resist. “What is this?”
She opened the envelope to find a fancy invitation to a Halloween ball, one that would take place that night. Her eyes widened, and she looked up at Niles for an explanation.
“That’s a charity ball. They have it every year. Mr. Donnelly feels an obligation to go, but… Well, he’ll be there tonight. I think you should go.”
“Why should I?” She frowned when she wanted to remain indifferent. “We’re not together.”
“I know only what he chose to share with me, which wasn’t much. I had the feeling from what he said that you cared about him. I’m sure of Mr. Donnelly’s feelings for you.”
“Me, too. He has none.”
Niles produced a business card. “This is a costume shop where you can get something appropriate. If you give them Mr. Donnelly’s name, all of your expenses will be taken care of.”
Jaz folded her arms under her breasts and didn’t even touch the card. “If I were fool enough to go to the party, I can dress myself. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have my Saturday chores to handle. Thanks.”
Niles offered her a kind smile despite her anger and dismissal. He tucked the card into the crook of her arm. “Just in case. This is for him and for you.”
“Of all the arrogant…” she muttered as he strode out the door. Jaz didn’t quite slam it, but she willed all her annoyance into the thump as she shut the door and the twist in her wrist as she locked it. Then for the next three hours, she did nothing but sit on the couch and stare at the invitation and the costume-shop card.
Why did Niles arrange for an invitation for her? Why did he come and not Torrian? Most importantly, why was she now thinking of going when she had put the man out of her head if not her heart?
* * * *
The white stone building’s windows were massive and extended from almost the rooftop to the ground. Square pillars of stone supported it all, and as Jaz stood on the drive leading the building’s entrance, she caught a glimpse of the varied costumes the guests wore. Most from what she could see were quality and had obviously cost a small fortune to buy. She on the other hand had dressed as a sweet angel. The costume although not original or expensive, it was at least paid for with her own money. The long white dress, which reached her ankles, opened at her upper thigh with a long slit and showed off both her legs whenever she moved. Cut low at the bustline, the dress showed off her cleavage, and her breasts actually appeared bigger because of the gathering folds of material around them. The fluffy wings had to hook on with straps around her arms, but they allowed a generous peek at her back, bare from her neck to just above her butt crack. On her feet, she wore silver heels, and the final touch was the white-and-gold mask hiding her identity.
Jaz stepped toward the curving stairs leading to the entrance. She drew in a deep breath and steadied herself with a hand on the railing. Maybe she should have taken her brother up on his offer to escort her. No, she wasn’t a coward. She had decided to come. Now this was it.
The room where the partygoers congregated stole her breath. The place was huge. One could get tired walking from one end to the other, or at least winded in heels. Chandeliers hung from the ceili
ng. Tapestries and landscapes graced the walls. Long tables held platter after platter of fancy foods, and waiters patrolled with trays of what she assumed was champagne or wine.
The women in the room ranged from sleazy costumed to fancy and stuffy. Fewer of the men were costumed, but most wore simple black masks that covered only their eyes. Everyone seemed to be having a good time as they laughed. No one danced even though music played. Not the “Monster Mash” or “Thriller,” she noted, but more sedate melodies. So this was Torrian’s world?
Jaz took a moment to realize someone began to speak into a microphone, so focused as she was with the display before her. “Good evening, ladies and gentlemen,” the speaker intoned. “I want to thank everyone for coming out tonight to support our annual Halloween gala. We especially want to thank our biggest sponsor Mr. Lochlan O’Brien. Of course, as usual Mr. O’Brien can’t be here tonight, so in his place accepting the gift of appreciation will be his godson, the very eligible Mr. Torrian Donnelly.”
Jaz froze in the act of accepting a glass of champagne. She found the presence of mind to look toward the stage, and there he was. Dressed in a black tuxedo and a black mask similar to the other men in the room—but sticking out way beyond the crowd—was her former lover. He looked as good as the last time she’d seen him, and she imagined he even smelled the same, felt the same, tasted the same.
She licked her lips and took a step backward to melt more into the crowd. The glass she held trembled a little, and she steadied both her hand and her backbone.
“Damn it,” one of the biddies next to Jaz whispered a bit too loudly to her companion, “I said this year I would be the name at the top of the list!”
“Well, when you give as much as he did to the cause, Olivia, you will be,” the other woman shot back with a catty tone to her voice.
“What cause?” Olivia asked, and the other woman waved a hand.
“Whichever one we’re supporting this year. If they announce it earlier, we can make sure we write a bigger check. We’ll have to discuss it with the coordinator. What was her name?”
“A better idea would be to set Torrian up with my Karen,” Olivia suggested. “The two would make a fabulous couple.”
“You mean their bank accounts.”
The two ladies cackled, and Jaz moved out of earshot. This was how they were, she thought. Torrian was playing with her, bored probably and having a little fun. He came on the microphone, answering questions. She was struck with the sound of his voice. The timbre stirred sensations in her she wished were long dead by now, but there was something else, too.
From her distance, she tried to see his face clearly but couldn't make it out. He sounded subdued, soft-spoken. The confidence and intelligence she had come to recognize was still there, but she began to recall the laughter, the teasing, the light in his eyes. She had missed him more than she realized.
“Mama, would you stop it?” one young woman was saying. “I’m not going to chase after Torrian Donnelly because you want his money. We’ve got enough of our own. Besides, tonight isn’t about you getting more. It’s about giving to people who need it.”
