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Anticipation rippled through me as the mystery man stopped in front of me and reached out for me to take his hand, so I did. I pressed my palm into his, expecting the zing of electricity that zipped up my spine.
We walked away from Luca, who snarled something under his breath, but I was too wrapped up in analyzing the face behind the mask to hear what it was. Beneath the black lace, a round mouth and a sharp jaw called for attention. As he spun me around and pulled me into his arms to the slow register of a fresh song, I noted the cut of his jacket, the way it hugged his biceps and tapered at the waist, like it was made only for him and him alone.
The music moved through the room, a slow ballad that was no rival to the rapid pace of my heart. He clasped my right hand in his while the other planted firmly on my lower back, sending the scent of his cologne drifting toward my nose.
Who was this guy?
Swallowing, I moved closer, somehow knowing instinctively he wouldn’t speak. Why ruin the moment with words? Instead, I closed my eyes and pressed my cheek to his as our bodies spoke to each other. We swayed and moved in tandem, every nerve ending at attention. And when the music blended from one song into the next, we continued to dance.
After a few more songs, I pulled away enough to stare up at him, unable to take another moment of not knowing who he was. His eyes met mine, and I drew in a sharp breath, yet he remained sharp-jawed and silent.
With trembling hands, I touched the edges of his mask, exploring the shape of him. And when I curled one finger underneath the band, hetsked, wagging a finger at me. I bit my lip, stifling a laugh, and his gaze followed the movement.
He leaned in slowly, and my heart seized in my chest. His lips gently brushed mine as I closed my eyes. I wanted to freeze this moment, stay in it forever so I could relish the feel of him before he pulled away again.
“But . . . who are you?” I asked, barely audible through the thundering in my chest.
He pressed his cheek next to mine, where his lips tickled my ear as he whispered, “Prince Charming.”
I shuddered, and then he began to move again, pulling me closer into his arms where we stayed in that moment, dancing and twirling over the floor like it was the only night we’d ever have the chance. Until my feet ached and my breath grew ragged. Until I’d die another minute if we didn’t speak. If I didn’t know who this man was.
Sensing my desperation, he clasped my hand in his and tugged me to the giant French doors. The ones I knew, from the photos of the hotel website, led to the rose gardens outside. He pushed them open and allowed me to pass by him before he followed.
The humid evening air coated my skin as my heels clicked on the flagstone walkway, down a lit path, ensconced by a rainbow of rose bushes, until we reached an archway dripping with Climbing Icebergs. Their floral perfume surrounded us as we strolled, slowly, hand in hand.Fairy lights twinkled up ahead, entwined among the wooden beams of the arbor as we stepped under the white blooms and into a tunnel of flowers. We walked for several minutes, down different pathways and underneath a canopy of lavender blooms.
Reaching out, he plucked one and deftly removed the thorns before he tucked it behind my ear while I blushed. Around another bend, we found a bench, and we sat to face each other.
His leg brushed my thigh, and tiny firecrackers danced over my skin. Several minutes passed as we sat in silence, and he traced circles on my palm with his thumb.
With my free hand, I removed my own mask, hoping he’d do the same.
“You’re stunning,” he murmured.
His voice slid over me like silk before the familiarity of the soft tenor registered.
I sucked in a breath as my eyes searched the face beneath the mask, seeing him for the first time. “Barry?”
A grin lifted the corners of his lips, but still, he said nothing.
With shaking hands, I reached out, needing to know who he was. Needing to know if it was him or if my subconscious had somehow imagined his voice. Wished him to life.
My fingertips found the band, and this time he didn’t stop me as I slipped it off and pulled the mask away, struck with a tsunami of both relief and shock.Barry.
Butterflies took flight in my belly as I drank in his beautiful face. Without his glasses, the bourbon honey shade of his eyes was crystal clear with subtle notes of blue and green. A small freckle I’d never noticed hid in the crinkles when he smiled. Everything about him was different—the hair, his clothes, his confidence—yet exactly the same.
“But . . .” I trailed off, at a loss for words. “You look . . .” I shook my head and glanced down at my hands, frustrated I couldn’t find the words, annoyed with myself because I was screwing this up. “Did you do this for me?”
He placed his fingers beneath my chin, sure and strong, as he tipped my head upward. I had no idea where his newfound confidence came from, but I loved it.
His brow creased, and I could see a thousand things he wanted to say. But his mouth pressed into a flat line as if debating before he nodded behind us. “Come on.”
Chapter 23
Myhandslippedinhis effortlessly. We walked through the lush gardens, off the beaten path made of pea gravel, until we came to a pond. Lily pads floated to the surface like little green umbrellas underneath the spray of the fountain, illuminated by color changing lights. Another couple sat on one of the large stones surrounding the pond, but when they heard our approach, they turned, and I recognized them instantly.
“Penelope? Topher?” I asked.
“Thanks, guys.” Barry squeezed my hand and nodded at them in greeting.
