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That dress was certainly a good choice. The same color as the corset from last night…
“Well, that answers what I was going to ask,” he said with a smirk. He moved closer and laid the box at the foot of the bed before removing the lid to reveal an array of masks in a rainbow of colors. Blue, green, black, white, yellow, purple, orange, red. The red mask was covered in small jewels and little satin flowers. Luke lifted it from the tissue paper lining the box and passed it to Rose, who stared at it.
“You’re kidding.”
“Nope. Mom left this part out when she told me about the party. But she had these sent over, along with a matching set for me.”
Rose smiled. Luke’s heart missed a beat at the sight.
“Do you have a tie that matches?” she asked. “I can put on something else, if—”
“Don’t you dare.” He chuckled and leaned close to kiss her cheek. “Red is your color.”
She turned to face him and slid her arms around his neck, and his hand moved on reflex to her waist. As she leaned up to meet his lips, he closed his eyes and savored the vanilla-cinnamon scent he knew had to be her perfume as he kissed her tenderly. After a few moments, he pulled back to rest his forehead against hers with a sigh.
“Do we have to go?” he muttered.
“Yes, we do.” She kissed him once more, and her lips turned upward in a mischievous smile. “But we’ll have time to be alone after the party.”
Chapter Twelve
Rose’s heart was pounding so quickly that she was becoming lightheaded. She held onto Luke’s arm as tightly as she could without making it obvious that she was looking for support. She’d been confident enough back at the house that everything would be fine, but actually being here had set her on edge again.
They had just entered the ballroom at an extravagant hotel in downtown Chicago—he’d told her the name at least twice, but she’d been too nervous to pay attention—and all around them were clusters of people in suits and expensive-looking gowns and masks of all hues.
Rose couldn’t remember the last time she’d felt so out of place.
She’d been raised with a decent amount of money; her mother was a doctor and her father was a pharmacist, so they’d been disappointed not only when she’d gravitated toward the arts instead of science or medicine all through school, but also when they had realized that she’d wanted to become an interior designer and had definitively decided not to follow either of their paths. She’d done well for herself, and she’d been living more than comfortably with money to spare, paying for half of everything she’d shared with Alex before she’d left home a few days earlier.
But the people here had political money. She could see it in the diamonds glittering on the women’s fingers, wrists, and necks and in the expensive watches the men wore. She could see it in their smiles—like they were so far above the typical citizen that they were untouchable.
Rose felt a rush of admiration for Luke. He’d grown up around all of this, but he’d never treated her like he was any different from her, even when they’d met back in college.
She squeezed his arm, and he turned his head to give her that smoldering half-smile that sent heat straight through her. She smiled back at him and followed him across the white marble floor, which was swirled with gold and black so that it looked like the guests were walking over constellations. Blue banners that read “Re-Elect LeBlanc for Senate” hung from the walls, and red, white, and blue balloons were clustered in the room’s corners and between the immense windows and the doors that led out onto the balcony.
Senator LeBlanc herself wore a long-sleeved navy gown that shimmered in the light of the chandeliers overhead, and her face was half-covered by a matching mask that stopped just below her cheekbones. She was deep in conversation with a group of people near the back of the room, and Rose averted her eyes before Luke’s mother could recognize her with him.
“Luke!”
Rose’s heart leapt into her throat, and she followed Luke as he turned toward a man wearing a green tie and a black mask. The man was grinning, and Luke released Rose’s arm just long enough to return his enthusiastic embrace before reaching for her again.
“Thanks for the invite,” said the man, whom Rose didn’t recognize.
“I figured it was a good way to get your office a few more high-paying clients,” said Luke with a nod. “You never know when this crowd will need a defense attorney.”
The man chuckled and clapped Luke on the shoulder before disappearing into the throng again.
“Bryan from work,” Luke whispered into Rose’s ear. A light shiver passed over her at the touch of his warm breath, and she nodded. “We fight on opposite sides, but he’s a good guy.”
“It’s nice of you to help him,” said Rose quietly.
He smiled at her, and they made their way toward the long, glass hors d’oeuvre table. A four-tiered chocolate fountain rested at its heart, and strawberries, cherries, grapes, orange slices, and pieces of cantaloupe and pineapple covered individual plates beside it. There was a tray of triangular half-sandwiches that looked like they contained any variety of meat one might want, and plates of sliced tomatoes and lettuce and pickles and assorted cheeses were lined up beside them.
“Your mom really covered all her bases,” Rose muttered.
“She’s a people-pleaser. Always wants to make sure there are options for everyone. Is there anything you’d like?”
“Honestly, just a drink. Too bad I can’t have one.” She let out a quiet laugh, and Luke squeezed her arm lightly.
