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Still, I’m hesitant to believe it.
Have my delusions grown worse? Am I having full-blown hallucinations now? Could it really be him?
As though I’ve voiced the question aloud, the man in the black mask nods his head slowly, and tears well up in my eyes.
I bite my lip to hold in a sob and turn back to the bar.
Luka is here. He is here.
And the fact that he hasn’t grabbed me and made a run for it means that he can’t just take me and bolt. It means that I have to play along.
Even though I want to chase after him as he begins to mill around the room, I grab my drink with shaky fingers and turn in the opposite direction.
“In your case, I guess they really did save the best for last.”
A man in a navy-blue suit with silver embroidery on it is standing next to me. He has on a white button-down underneath, open to reveal a swirl of brown chest hair.
Not waiting for any response from me, he reaches out to grab a lock of my hair. He twirls it around his finger like he already owns me.
“You are the sexiest woman in the room,” he says.
His mask is the same shade of blue as his suit. It has a beaked nose like a bird that sticks out so far it almost hits me in the face when he leans in to whisper in my ear.
“I put a bid on you the moment cocktail hour started.”
I spin to the board and see five hundred dollars typed in green next to my number. It is the only bid.
“Is that all I’m worth to you?” I ask, eyebrow raised.
I can’t see the man’s face, but by the way his head pulls back, I think he might be insulted. Then, he laughs. “Of course not. Believe me, baby, I have more money than any man in this room.”
His suit is nice, but I don’t imagine many people here have the kind of connections Luka has. He is independently wealthy and he is owed many favors from a lot of wealthy men. There are few money matters that he can’t handle. And since I am apparently the prize, I know Luka will do whatever he can to walk out of here with me.
The man keeps his eyes on my chest, tracing the deep neckline of the dress over and over again like he is trying to remove the fabric with his mind.
“Men who have to say they’re rich usually aren’t telling the truth,” I say with the smallest of smiles. I mean every word, but I want the man to think I’m flirting with him.
He does.
His mouth splits into a grin, and he steps closer to me until I can practically taste his overpowering cologne. It takes everything I have not to retch as he drawls, “Stick with me, and I’ll back it up.”
I lift an eyebrow and bring my glass to my lips, taking a slow sip.
The man watches eagerly. When I drag my tongue across my upper lip, his eyes widen.
“Keep that up, and I might have to go raise my bid,” he says, his voice husky.
I smile and turn away from him, ready to move along to another man.
I want to make it clear I have no particular preference for Luka, but I also don’t want to get myself in too deep with any other man in the room.
As I turn away, however, the man reaches out and grabs my hip.
Unlike Luka’s soft touch, the man’s fingers are hard and possessive. They wrap around me like a shackle and spin me towards him.
He moves closer to me until my drink is wedged between our bodies, the only thing keeping him from being flush with me.
“Running away so soon?” he whispers.
