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The drape fell back into place, cutting off her view.
The room whirled in front of her eyes, and she blinked, forcing herself back to reality. Her body was flushed. Her heartbeat racing even faster than it had been. Had she imagined how strong his jaw was? How piercing his green eyes were? How well he filled out his black tuxedo jacket? That stare . . . the way he’d held her gaze in his . . .
She could swear a secret had passed between them, a moment of pure knowing. If she didn’t know better, she would have thought they’d held each other’s gaze for hours.
There was something else, too. Her panties were suddenly wet.
As if driven by something invisible inside her, she stood and took a step forward. To him.
The man in the gold mask.
* * *
“What are you doing?”
Rex’s voice seemed to come from somewhere far away. Skylar blinked. Without even realizing it, she’d stood and started to walk away from her fiancé. To findhim. The man who’d captured something deep and primal inside her, something she hadn’t known existed until this very moment. She looked back into the crowd to where she’d seen the man in the gold mask, but all she saw were gauzy drapes. Velvet settees. Milling patrons in black masks.
“I’m going to walk a bit.”
Rex frowned. “Our martinis are coming. We’re billed for food and drinks even if we don’t have anything.” His eyes narrowed. “Wait—I don’t need to worry about you leaving, do I, dear?”
Her stomach twisted with tension coupled with the now familiar sensation of resentment. He was concerned about the cost. Not about her or how she felt. Straightening her spine, she looked down her nose at the man she’d once fallen so hard for. “Don’t worry, Rex,” she said smoothly, allowing no emotion into her tone. “I know you spent a fortune. You’ll get your money’s worth tonight.”
“Skylar—”
She left before he could give her a fake apology. Those little things about Rex she’d fallen in love with, those moments of tenderness, of vulnerability, of gentleness, had they all been an illusion? Smoke and mirrors? Because it seemed that once he’d popped the question—and she’d accepted his proposal of marriage—so much had changed between them.
Although there’d always been one constant. And that constant was why they were in this place. To see if she was fatally flawed.
She swept further away from Rex, wandering the aisles for a few minutes. The arrangement of the ballroom was indeed a maze, and she found herself discombobulated, lost in space. A few of the partygoers smiled at her, mostly men and women in gold masks trying to capture her attention, but none did. None made her want to take a second look. Not like the man she’d seen earlier. Was he still . . . unattached?
She doubted it. A man like that could have his pick of anyone here tonight.
One man in a gold mask stepped up to her and then leaned in close, a knowing smile on his overly wet lips that brought a wave of disgust. The wrong response for tonight’s goal. He appeared handsome, yes, with a chiseled jaw and elegant nose, but the look in his eyes and the smirk on his face made her retreat. She whirled about, fighting not to gag. This night wasnotgoing to plan.
I am not nervous.
And yet she was. Nervous and afraid. And far out of her depth. Uncharacteristic for her to be in an environment in which she was not in full control. To feel the old sensations of nerves. Of fear. Of worry. Of being less than.
Yes, she’d made the agreement with Rex and the consultant, and yes, she’d go through with tonight, but she’d hoped to feel something more . . . energetic. Positive. Hopeful. She’d anticipated a rush of arousal upon entering the space. She hadn’t hoped for this reaction, though. Not the fear. Not the tension and dread.
The crowd was growing, and she felt a wave of claustrophobia. Quickly, she ducked into the next intimate space created by the curtains and perched on the armrest of one of the three-sided sofas there.
And there he was.
He sat splayed confidently in a tall-backed leather chair at the outer edge of the alcove. His long legs were spread wide so that the length of his cock was a mystery to no one. One arm rested lazily behind his head, and the other swirled a whisky glass. And like an erotic pattern, all along his tuxedo were the hands of women in elegant evening gowns and black jeweled masks. Women just like Skylar.
She tried to count the number of women but lost track as they leaned in, and swayed back, all angling and shifting for a better position around him like a pack of ravenous hyenas. One woman rested her hand on his shoulder. Another slid her hand up his thigh toward his crotch. Two women on each side squeezed his knees as they laughed. Another leaned over him from behind and ran her fingers down his chest, whispering something in his ear.
Yet the man didn’t look at her; instead, he stared straight into Skylar’s eyes. She swallowed and pulled her shoulders back and her chin up, returning his piercing stare. Two could play the staring game.
He smirked, then returned his focus to the women in the pack around him, giving them all attention, smiling and nodding in agreement at something one or another said. Yet he was not reaching out and touching any of them. And he certainly wasn’t standing and leading one away to one of the “Well-appointed rooms on the third floor,” as had been identified in the glossy pamphlet provided to Rex when he first made the arrangements.
But it didn’t matter; the man with gorgeous green eyes was taken. She wouldn’t be able to push her way through the throng of women surrounding him even if she wanted to.
I want him,a filthy voice whispered inside her mind.
While another, more familiar voice, retorted,I want to run.
