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When the bartender asks what I’d like, I debate whether I should order something alcoholic, but figure one drink won’t hurt and will hopefully lessen my nerves a bit.
“A mojito,” I tell her, going with a drink I normally wouldn’t choose just in case. Lincoln and I have never hung out where there’s alcohol involved, but I’m not chancing ordering my usual—whiskey sour—since Sienna is the one who put me on to it.
While I wait for my drink, I focus on calming my heart rate. With Lincoln next to me, I’m suddenly having a “what the fuck am I doing?”moment.
There’s a part of me that feels guilty for concealing my identity from Lincoln and seeking him out for anonymous sex, but the other part of me justifies it because, if by some miracle I pull this off, it will be completely consensual. Still, it feels deceitful.
It’ll just be one time and then we’ll go our separate ways, I tell myself.
“A duck?” a masculine voice asks, forcing me out of my thoughts.
I glance at Lincoln, who’s looking at me. “Huh?” I say dumbly, mesmerized by his hazel eyes that are shining bright against the silver mask that covers the top half of his face, exposing his full lips and clean-shaven jawline.
“A duck,” he repeats, nodding toward where I was absentmindedly creating an origami duck out of my napkin, a nervous habit I picked up when I was younger.
“Quack, quack,” I say, pretending the duck is real because apparently, I’ve lost my damn mind.
Lincoln eyes me for a moment and I worry I’ve already fucked up—I’m attempting to talk lower to disguise my voice without sounding like an idiot, but I have no clue how intuitive he is—when a smile spreads across his face, his eyes light up with mirth, and he throws his head back in laughter.
“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you here before,” he says once he’s stopped laughing.
“How would you know?” I shrug. “I’m wearing a mask.” It’s a black and gold gorgeous Venetian cat mask. It hides most of my face, leaving only my eyes and lips on display. I’ve given myself smoky eyes to blend with the mask, creating a dark, mysterious feel, and my lips are painted a dark red matte, outlined to look plumper than what they are. On top of that, when I went in for a haircut yesterday, I added caramel highlights to my hair, something I’ve never done before. As long as Lincoln’s known me, my hair has always been one color—brown—and I almost never wear makeup, especially lipstick as bold as what I’m wearing tonight.
“Very true,” he says, “but as the owner of this establishment, I make it a point to get to know my guests, and I would’ve remembered that duck...and those green eyes.”
My eyes. Oh, shit. I should’ve worn colored contacts. What the fuck was I thinking? Luckily, based on the way he’s running his gaze over my body—his eyes that were just filled with laughter, now full of desire—he must not recognize me. Because if he knew these green eyes belonged to his much younger sister-in-law, he wouldn’t be checking me out the way he is.
“I’ve only been here a handful of times,” I tell him, trying to be as honest as possible.
The bartender sets my drink in front of me, and I take a sip, relishing in the way the alcohol slides down my throat and warms my insides.
“Are you here with anyone?” Lincoln asks, his eyes trained on my face—well, my mask.
“Nope,” I reply. “I’m new to all this. It makes me...nervous,” I say, my words true. “But with the anonymity tonight’s event brings, I’m hoping to meet someone.”
“What do you think about Elite so far?”
“I think—” I lock eyes with him, trying to up my seduction game since my time is limited “—it has potential.”
A small smile quirks in the corner of his lips, and I wonder how this man has managed to avoid being tied down. Somehow, he’s managed to only get better looking with time.
“We’ll have to see about turning that potential into life changing.”
That’s what I’m hoping for,I think but don’t say. “And how wouldwedo that?” I ask, taking a sip of my drink as I turn toward him, so my bare knee rubs against the side of his leg.
He does the same, and because we’re so close, when his knee slides past mine, he’s able to capture my leg in between his own. My insides warm at the way we’re connected, and when he reaches over and snags a lock of my hair, twirling it around his finger, that warmth morphs into a fire.
“First, you can start by telling me your name,” he says.
I thought about this ahead of time, knowing this question would be a possibility. “Liz,” I tell him, using a piece of my name.
“Liz,” he repeats. “I’m Lincoln. It’s very nice to meet you.”
I smile softly, wishing that I were here under different circumstances. Wishing I was older and had a chance with Lincoln. When I was younger, I would fantasize about what it would be like to have his attention like this. And now that I have it, instead of enjoying it, I’m freaking out, praying that I can simply get through what I came here to do. Knowing that if tonight somehow happens, it’ll be the only time I’ll ever be with Lincoln like this.
Lincoln glances over my shoulder, and my heart drops, assuming he’s found someone he’d rather speak to, until he stands and extends his hand. “Dance with me?”
Butterflies swarm my belly as I take another large sip of my drink before I stand and put my hand in his. “I’d love to.”
