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Living in New Orleans meant provocative clubs catering to every sizzling proclivity were everywhere. There wasn’t a single form of entertainment that wasn’t represented. With my crazy hours, I couldn’t remember the last time I’d let go, enjoying a night out with friends. I loved to dance, my apartment two blocks from several incredible bars and restaurants. I adored the city life, the colorful people, and the craziness. Every night was a party.
The location also allowed me to wear a mask every day of the year, only without the pomp and circumstance of wearing a costume. I didn’t need to. I blended in, accepted for no other reason than the business I ran. Ownership allowed me to feel alive again, nurturing a spirit that had been crushed as a teenager. It also meant no one was breathing down my neck, including my uncle.
Still, I always wondered how long my freedom would last. Since seeing Zorro, I’d thought more about the ugliness of my past catching up. There was no reason. Zorro wasn’t a soldier to the only family member I had left. Although there was something mysterious about him, as if he was hiding his identity for another reason than enjoying the pretense of a holiday. If I learned his full name, at least I could determine his reason for coming to New Orleans. Then again, it was quite possible I’d never see him again.
“This place is hot!” Amber squealed. “And you look fabulous, darling.” She winked as she glanced at my costume, waving her hand in front of her face as an indication of how sultry she believed I looked.
Tonight I was a sexy devil, including the long tail, which had already been yanked a number of times. “It’s crowded.” I hated crowds, the suffocating effect almost always driving me into a panic attack. Maybe that was the real reason I rarely ventured into a club any longer. Even now, my skin was crawling, my throat threatening to close. I could see men with weapons everywhere, yet they only existed in my mind. As long as I continued to remind myself that my imagination was working overtime, I’d be okay. Besides, I was with friends.
“It’s close to the weekend,” Carolyn reminded me.
“It could be a Monday and there would still be people here,” I told her as I scanned the crowd. I’d felt strange all day, constantly walking into my office to stand in front of the painting. I’d finally hung it over my desk, and I wasn’t certain why. The likeness continued to trouble me, although I knew somewhere inside, I should be flattered. Maybe. The gift felt far too intimate, not something you would give to a complete stranger.
“Earth to She Devil,” Jasmine exclaimed as she pushed my arm.
I shook my head, hating the fact I remained on pins and needles. “I’m right here.”
“No, you’ve been in the stratosphere,” Amber mused. “Does this have to do with work?”
“Not exactly.” I wasn’t certain she heard my answer given the pounding music.
“She’s concerned about a gift she received today from one hot man,” Jasmine piped in.
“Oh, do tell.”
As I glanced at Carolyn, a strange feeling swept through me. I had to stop thinking about him or my night would be ruined, and I’d never hear the end of it. “It’s nothing. Drop it, Jazzy.”
“I will not drop it. You wouldn’t believe the incredible painting delivered to Eden’s gallery this morning. It was insanely gorgeous, the artist so talented the picture took my breath away. You should see the piece.” Jasmine had a way of being melodramatic with everything.
“Come on. We need specifics. Is that that artist you were telling us about?”
I glanced at Amber and shook my head. “No, I hate to admit it, but Talon Martin isn’t that talented.”
“So you admit Zorro is talented. I wonder what other… endowments he can display.”
I tossed my cocktail napkin at Jasmine. “Very funny. I talked with him for maybe five minutes.”
“And he sent you a painting?” Carolyn asked. I knew I wouldn’t get the opportunity to explain before Jasmine jumped in.
“Get this, girls. He didn’t just give her a painting. He did it himself and even better…” The dramatic pause made me want to smack her. We weren’t kids anymore, but Jasmine made everything a party as if we were in our early twenties. I normally adored her for it, but for some reason, her nagging was already becoming oppressive. Or maybe I was just nervous. “Our girl here was the model. It’s highly evocative too. And the man is possessive.”
“Is he good looking?” Amber teased.
“He’s… I don’t know because he was wearing a mask.” Why was I egging this on?
“Oh, come on,” Jasmine snorted. “A mask didn’t hide his eyes. Or his chiseled chin. Right?”
“How do you know he has a chiseled chin?” I wasn’t going to convince her. She still believed in fairytales, as if Prince Charming was going to sweep her off her feet, taking her to Neverland. I was a realist. If and when I finally allowed myself to trust again, it would be after grilling the person, finding out about his parents, talking to his boss and finding out if he was a pig or not.
“Because I know the kind of man you like,” Jasmine jested.
Carolyn looked shocked. “Wait a minute. You posed for an erotic painting in front of a stranger?”
“That’s how rumors get started. No. I talked with him at the charity event. Nothing more.” I’d made up my mind to contact the senator. At least I could find out who he was in case I needed to get a restraining order.
“Wow. I need to meet a man like that.” Amber meant what she said. “If he did the painting for you, he stayed up all night. That’s incredibly romantic.”
That was incredibly disconcerting. Who did that kind of thing?
