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A hand gently palmed my back. “Are you okay, Lila?” A gruff, sexy-as-sin voice asked.
Hawk? Damnit. How did he recognize me?
I gasped.
The gasp made things worst. Note to self: gasping while coughing isn’t a good combo. I choked even more on the few remaining bubbles stuck in my throat.
Turning away from him, I hacked into the napkin. Champagne trickled out of my nose. Thank god for the napkin.
Simone came back with a glass of water. I sprinted past her in a random direction, hoping it was toward a washroom.
An arm wrapped around my shoulders and ushered me in another direction. “This way,” said the voice that always set my body on fire.
I spotted a door with a silhouette of a woman on it, so I dashed ahead and barreled in. By the time I reached the sink, my coughing fits had subsided. I took off my mask and carefully blotted champagne and dribble off my face while groaning about the disaster this night had already turned into.
I shouldn’t have come. I was sure no one would be able to recognize me. Maybe he’d spotted Simone instead and assumed the weirdo next to her was me.
I shook my head. Doubtful. Simone was well disguised too.
Once my face was dry, I put my mask back on and sat on the Victorian-style chaise lounge. I’d wait a few more minutes to give Hawk time to get back to the party. Then I’d leave. Quietly and alone. In the meantime, I texted Mae to find out how Karma was doing.
Crazy Bestie: You only dropped her off three hours ago. And it’s been one hour since your last text. Nothing has changed. She’s fine!
Me: Are you sure? She doesn’t seem stressed or anything?”
Crazy Bestie: You’re such a mother hen. She’s more than fine. She’s sleeping. Has been sleeping. All she does is sleep. How old is this dog anyway?
Me: No one knows. Last owners didn’t give us any info. Tell her mommy loves her when she wakes up.
Crazy Bestie: Uhh. No. I’m not saying that to a dog that doesn’t speak human.
Me: She knows what it means. She’s really smart.
Crazy Bestie: You can tell her tomorrow when I drop her off at your place in the morning. Now stop bothering me. I’m on a bicep-watching marathon. I’ve just finished Thor, and now I’m about to start Furious 7.
A woman wearing a princess-style gown and a mask encrusted with jewels came in. “Are you Lila?”
I gaped up at one of my favorite singers, the one with more rescue dogs than Simone. Even with the mask, it was easy to recognize her. How did she even know my name? I jumped to my feet. “You’re Ariana Grande.”
“Yes,” she agreed hesitantly, “but I was asking if you were Lila.”
“I’m such a huge fan of your music. And I love all the work you do for the animals. And thank you for giving so many rescue dogs a home.”
She smiled. “Thanks. So, are you Lila?”
“Oh, yes. Oh my god, how do you know my name?”
“A man asked me to come in and check on you.”
My stomach sank. “Is he still out there?”
“Yes, well, you seem fine, so I’ll tell him on my way out.”
“No. No. It’s okay.” I couldn’t have someone like Ariana Grande be my messenger. “I’m on my way out anyway.”
So much for my plan. I squared my shoulders and walked out of the ladies’ room.
Hawk was leaning against the wall nearby. He wore a tux, black with a hint of hunter green, that made him look deliciously sophisticated. Not a look I was used to seeing on him, but it suited him. He opted to go bowtie-less, the top two buttons of his shirt undone.
His hair was slicked back. A wing-tipped masquerade mask covered three-quarters of his face, except for a part of his cheek and jaw on one side.
When he saw me, his eyes drank me in, slowly making their way down my body and back up until smoky gray eyes met mine.
He stalked over to me and slid his hand over my hip. With a low growl, he said, “It pleases me you wore a red dress.” He leaned in and took a deep breath. A moan of appreciation rumbled out of him.
My knees nearly buckled. “People are watching.”
“I want you, Lila. And I will not be denied.
