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I’m so close to relapsing into my illogical panic, but I don’t. It takes me about five minutes to get to the other end. By the time I reach my destination, I’ve inhaled more dust than a vacuum and I’m sweating like a pig.
I slowly open the vent cover and once I listen in to make sure there’s no one in this bathroom, I maneuver my way out until I land on the sink, then jump to the floor.
Phase one. Done.
Maya should’ve gotten to the other side by now. She doesn’t need to do any jumping or crawling. Nor can I ever convince her to ‘lower’ her ‘sublime’ status.
She probably just needs to flirt with a guard if she encounters one.
I tap my mask to make sure it’s in place, then check my reflection in the mirror, smooth my hair, and dust my dress. Once I’m satisfied with my look, I exit the men’s bathroom. Anyone could walk in and ask what I’m doing here, but oh well, even if I’m caught, I’ll pretend that I got here by mistake.
All I have to do is reach the control panel at the corner and activate the timer.
The moment I’m out the door, the hair on the back of my neck stands on end.
However, before I can turn around and inspect the source of the intrusion, I’m pushed back inside the bathroom with a blinding force.
I’m too disoriented to focus, let alone try to stop the inhuman, raw power I’m handled with.
My back hits the wall and I groan, then lift my hand, ready to flip whoever it is a thousand fingers while kicking them.
All my plans come to a halt when my gaze clashes with dark-blue eyes.
Familiar eyes.
The eyes of my enemy and the target of my revenge.
Landon fucking King.
2
MIA
This isn’t part of the plan.
In fact, it’s so far away from the plan that I can hear meticulously laid-out scenarios crash like broken china.
I’m standing in front of none other thantheLandon King. A charming god, a genius sculptor, and, most importantly, an insufferable bastard.
His hand squeezes my upper arm, pressing it against the wall with a power that renders me immobile.
My lips clamp together even as condensation covers the interior of the mask. Sweat trickles in the valley between my breasts and glues the dress to my back.
Any attempts to control my breathing end in epic failure. The air coming through my mask’s nostril openings wraps a noose around my neck—suffocating, nefarious, and as dangerous as the eyes staring down at me.
They’re all that’s visible beneath his white Venetian carnival mask that’s decorated with elegant golden lines. On other people, it would look tame, welcoming even, but on this man, it’s nothing short of a horror scene.
One distinctive feature gives him away. The eyes.
They’re a dark, shiny blue, like an ocean that’s twinkling under the silver moonlight. Deep, mysterious, and…deadly.
I’ve heard so much about Landon, but this is the first time I’ve believed he’s a lethal danger whose path I shouldn’t cross. Unless I’m in the mood to be drowned in his ocean so fast that no one will find a trace of me.
Too bad for him, I’m the type who likes swimming in open water.
I let my hand fall to my side, abandoning the flipping-off idea, but I lift my chin. I’ve been so looking forward to kicking this asshole in the face that I’m barely holding on.
Yes, his appearance has ruffled my plan, but it’s far from ruined. I just need to abandon his eyesore company and go on about my business.
