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“The view’s better from here, sir. More entertaining,” I say with a sugary sweet voice, trying to sidestep him. I don’t have time for this. My tray’s heavy, and there are plenty of snobs remaining to be served.
For the next hour, I work the room, pushing through the crowd, feeling more and more as if I’m trapped in a fishbowl. When another man ogles me, pushing past others to reach me, I notice the glint in his eyes isn’t for the morsels on my platter.
I twist and go in the opposite direction, my heart racing as I navigate the masses to cross the room. I’m desperate for some alone time and to find the bathroom. Setting the platter on a nearby table, I slip into a dim corridor. The wall is cool against my back as I take in short, sharp breaths. Today, I turned nineteen, and who could have guessed I’d spend my day trying to evade creepy men?
My hand wraps around my pendant, and a rush of memories flood me. I bite my lower lip to hold back the tears. If my mom was still alive, she would never force me to work here.
Just a few more hours.I can get through this.
I hurry down the corridor away from the party, the sounds of the ballroom dimming behind me. I’m sure this is the direction for the restrooms. Maybe it’s around another turn, and I’ll find them. Several turns later and I feel like I’m going in circles.
Please don’t be lost in the maze-like mansion. I’ll never hear the end of it from my stepmother.
A murmur of voices snatches my attention from somewhere nearby, a woman’s cry, frantic and high-pitched, as though she might be on the verge of tears.
I stiffen, reminded of the sleazy men at the party, and I can’t help it. I hurry toward the sound in case she needs help. Ahead, I spy a door ajar and tip-toe closer, then peer inside the bedroom. It’s dimly lit, an amber light glowing over the polished wooden bed, the furniture, and the plush rugs. As I press closer for a better look, the room comes more into view.
The image in front of me leaves me startled.
A beautiful brunette, completely naked—well, aside from her red stilettos—is bent over a table, her ass high, her legs spread, and everything is on display, even how glistening wet her inner thighs are.
Standing several feet behind her is a man who I can only see from his side, but his profile is enough to tell me he’s the most striking person I’ve ever laid eyes on. Wearing suit pants, the lean muscles are clear beneath the fabric. He’s rolling up the sleeves of his white button-up shirt as he takes in the view of what the woman is offering him.
Short of breath, I’m unable to look away. Even the grandeur of the furniture and towering display shelves seem to shrink away in his presence.
Am I really watching this?
Evidently, the shock isn’t enough to make my feet move.
I’m no virgin, but I can count on one hand how many times I slept with my ex, and none of the times included something so captivating and sexy that has me clenching my thighs from the growing tingles between my legs.
The man steps closer to the woman, his hand falling to her parted thighs. She gasps, arching at his touch, and already my panties are drenched. He has that domineering look to his posture, and I should be repelled by it. Instead, part of me wonders what it would be like to be in that woman’s position with a man like that in control.
This is madness… have I lost my mind to watch this?
His free hand slides up her spine and tangles in her locks, curling them around his fist as he tugs her head back enough to gain a moan out of her.
“Is this why you entered my room?” he asks in a deep, smooth voice, yet as chilling as a winter’s breeze wrapping around me.
“I-I made a mistake,” she whispers, then moans loudly when he pushes a finger into her.
The dim light catches the hard angles of his face, emphasizing the beauty and danger he carries.
“It’s time for a little reminder of what happens when you break the rules,” he drawls, and the temperature in the corridor seems to soar because I’m burning up.
Everything about this gorgeous man screams sinful. Dark. Sensual.
I hold my breath as the intimacy of this moment sends shivers of desire licking down my spine. Even as I attempt to push away the arousal I feel, I’m still standing there, watching them, caught like a deer in headlights.
It’s clear he’s the kind of man who knows how to drive a woman to madness, and just watching him has me close to moaning myself.
I know the truth of why I burn with wanton desires. I want to pretend it’s me that such a man would take an interest in, so he’d stare at me the way he does at the beautiful woman in red stilettos.
He leans forward over her, his hand working overtime. She moans, rocking against him.
“You like that, don’t you, doll?” His tone is slick, with his threat simmering.
The moment feels so primal, so enticing.
