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After several breathless beats, he leaned in close, and his lips brushed her ear. “Find me later,” he whispered before backing away and disappearing into the crowd.
Sasha stood there for a moment, her heart racing as she tried to remember how to breathe.
What just happened?
And why did she want to follow him now?
Yeah, that definitely had to be the champagne’s influence.
chapter four
She caught sight of Ash again, and she knew what she had to do.
Stick. To. The. Plan.
Time to go for what she wanted. If she could sizzle on the dance floor with a stranger, she could be bold enough to ask Ash on a date.
She threw back her shoulders, lifted her chin, and made her way over to him. She tapped his shoulder. “Hi,” she said, trying to keep her voice steady. “I’ve been looking for you.”
Ash turned to face her, his eyes widening in surprise as he took in her dress. “Sasha?” The surprise shifted to appreciation, then into the spark of male interest she’d always wanted from him. A smile spread across his handsome face. “Wow. You look… amazing.”
“I like you. I think we’d make a great couple. Would you date me?” The words fell out of her in a jumbled rush on one breath. Crap. She inwardly winced. There was a line between boldness and tactlessness, and she just took a running leap over it. “Um, I mean… dance with me?”
Ash glanced at his companions, and her face went hot as she realized she didn’t know the men standing with him. Which was worse—embarrassing yourself in front of strangers or friends? She wanted to melt into the floor and suddenly, desperately wished she’d taken Demon Man up on his offer to leave.
“Yeah, I’d love to dance with you,” Ash said, surprising her. “Just give me a second?”
“Oh. Right. Of course.”
He turned back to the two men. They were dressed similarly to him, with uniforms under their cloaks. His deputies, she realized. They were trying to keep the grins off their faces and remain professional.
Oh, God. She wandered away while Ash issued their orders. Her face was on fire, and her nerves were back. She snagged another champagne glass from a passing waiter. Funny how she hadn’t felt even a hint of the nervous butterflies when she’d danced with Demon Man.
Then Ash’s hand was in hers, and he was leading her to the dance floor. Her heart pounded so hard in her chest that she was sure he could feel it through their clasped hands.
This was it. The moment she had been waiting for. The moment she had planned for.
She drew a breath to calm her racing thoughts and focus on the moment as he took her into his arms, but from the corner of her eye, she saw his deputies fan out into the crowd. “Are you working?”
“No,” Ash said too quickly.
“You’re in uniform. You only wear your uniform when there’s a problem.” Otherwise, he usually wore jeans and a button-up to work. “What’s wrong?”
He exhaled hard. “Okay, yes, I’m working. But don’t tell Anna. One: she’ll lecture me about always working. And two: I don’t want her to worry.”
“Worry about what?”
“We received information about a potential attack on the fundraiser tonight.”
“Who would attack a fundraiser?” Her eyes widened. “Monarch?” Anna was in an intense legal battle with the development company over land that had been owned by the Rawlings family since the Gold Rush days. “They wouldn’t stoop that low.”
“I wouldn’t put it past them,” Ash muttered but then nodded toward two men in expensive tuxes and simple black masks. “But Mark Salas and JT Tennison are both here, so I doubt it’s them.”
She scowled at the Monarch CEO and Chief Legal Officer. “Why would they buy tickets to a fundraiser meant to raise money to fight them?”
“Because JT’s a sycophant who worships the ground Mark walks on, and Mark’s a smug jackass. Always was in high school, and he’s only gotten worse with age and success.”
She was a year younger than Ash and had kept to herself throughout school, preferring to focus on her grades rather than social events. They hadn’t run with the same crowd, but she did vaguely remember Mark ruling over his classmates as prom king, like the position actually came with God-given monarchal power. “He always wore polo shirts with popped collars.”
