“Okay.” For a second, I thought he was going to kiss me. When he increased the distance between us, lowering his hand from the wall, disappointment washed over me.
“Before we begin, may I see your invitation?”
His request sent my stomach plummeting to the floor. “No, you may not.” I lifted my chin, trying to pull together my faculties. “I don’t have it on me. It’s with my friend.”
“You’re not a very good liar. And you’re not Barbara.” Each of his words raised my temperature another degree until I thought my insides would combust. How would he know Barbara unless he was Menshikov?
“I never said I was Barbara.” If I was caught, I had nothing to lose by bluffing. Meeting his gaze, I conjured a playful smile. So many sins could be hidden with a smile. “I came here under the assurance that no one would question my identity. If anyone found out that I was here, it could be very—damaging—to my reputation and my career.” This was total bullshit, but I kept going, even though my heart jackhammered against my ribs. “Are you threatening my privacy? Because I’m pretty certain that’s a direct violation of the rules.”
“Rules were made to be broken.” Full lips rolled together. I couldn’t help staring at the gesture and wondering how those lips tasted, how they kissed. Would he be forceful? Gentle? Would his hand fist in my hair while his knee parted my thighs?
“I’d bet my life that you don’t have an invitation.” His eyelids lowered to slits. “I know everyone at this party. Everyone but you.”
“Are you sure? I’m sure we’ve met before. In Rome? Or maybe Paris?” I met his gaze, refusing to blink. “I think we’re done here,” I said, calling his bluff. “If you’ll excuse me.”
“God, a woman with balls. I love it.” He threw back his head and laughed. The deep sound shimmered over me, easing the tension in my shoulders. “I’m one hundred percent certain we’ve never met. I couldn’t forget someone as lovely as you.” The weight of his gaze crawled over my face, lips, breasts and hips, scraping over my nerve endings, alighting my body with a new and intriguing kind of fire. He rested a fingertip under my chin, tilting my eyes up to his, the tip of his thumb grazing my skin. “Very well, Cinderella. You win. I’ll give you a pass this time.”
“I’ll stay, but only if you behave.” God, he was handsome. The silk mask and thick but well-groomed beard couldn’t hide the sharp lines of his square jaw, the chiseled planes of high cheekbones, and the knife-blade edge of his nose.
“I realize I’m out of line, but you’ve piqued my curiosity.” If only I could see his eyes. Were they blue or brown? Under the shelter of his mask, I couldn’t tell.
“Are you Menshikov?” How else could he know that I entered the party under the guise of Barbara Ellis?
He studied my eyes for a long second. “No, I’m not. But I know him very well.”
“Are you going to tell him?”
“That you’re here without an invitation?”
Too late, I realized my mistake. “No, I mean—”
He silenced my words with a fingertip to my lips. “Hush. Your secret is safe with me.” His gaze dipped to my mouth again. I slid my tongue across my bottom lip, suddenly famished and thirsty, dying for relief from a hunger I never knew I possessed. “For a price.”
4
Roman
Every spring, I hosted the event of the year, not for myself but for the amusement of my friends. I’d grown bored with the whole thing years ago and rarely attended. A capable set of planners managed the entertainment and catering. The guest list, however, remained my sole responsibility. I culled the names of interesting people from the media and my personal acquaintance. The mix of personalities and backgrounds provided an entertaining atmosphere. Over the past decade, the Masquerade de Marquis had become notorious for decadence and debauchery, all committed under the guise of secrecy.
From the library window on the second floor, I watched the guests filter into the house and mentally crossed their names from the invitation list. A Saudi prince and his security team arrived in a caravan of black limousines. The senator from Wyoming came alone in a rented Jaguar. An entire boy band tumbled from the seats of a passenger van, cocktails in hand. Although I didn’t care for their music, I did enjoy their zest for life and success.
“Can I get you anything, sir?” Ivan asked, appearing from thin air in the doorway.
I jumped. “Jesus, Ivan. Can’t you knock first?”
“I did, sir.” His smirk, however, suggested a smug satisfaction in catching me mid-daydream. “I thought you would like to know. The guests are arriving.”
“Yes, I can see that.” I returned my attention to the window. My gaze snagged on a vision of loveliness wearing a white jeweled gown. Long blond hair tumbled over her shoulders. A white mask highlighted delicate features, a pert nose, and small pointed chin. “Who’s that girl? The blonde?”
He joined me at the window and gazed down at the pair traveling up the steps on the arms of two footmen. “I’m not sure. Would you like me to ask?”
I watched her disappear, graceful and uncertain, through the enormous double doors. “No. Someone that beautiful doesn’t need an invitation. Just keep an eye on her, would you? Make sure she’s not a reporter.”
“She’s lovely, isn’t she?” Ivan studied me, trying to discern my motives. Nosy bastard.
“Aren’t they all?” I shrugged and schooled my features into disinterest.
“Would you like me to bring her up here?” A sardonic smile twisted his lips. “Female companionship might do your—er—um—temperament some good.”
“What are you trying to say, Ivan? That I’ve been an uptight asshole?”
“Not at all. Just trying to anticipate your needs, sir.” He stared down his nose at me in his imperious manner, completely unapologetic.
“No. You can go.” I unrolled my shirtsleeves, carefully keeping my face turned from him. “I’ll be in my office.”
“As you wish, sir.” He bowed and left the room on silent feet. Even after a lifetime together, he still called me “sir” and treated me like the royalty I’d once been, despite my requests to the contrary.
Inside the dark, shadowy confines of my office, I switched on the security monitors and watched the mysterious blonde negotiate the ballroom. It took a lot of balls to crash this party. Many had tried, most of them reporters or paparazzi, in search of a scoop. I studied her posture and mannerisms and decided she was harmless enough, until Nikolay arrived at her side.
Like a true hunter, he’d sniffed out the prettiest female and attached himself in record time. We’d been in competition our entire lives, or rather, he’d been in competition with me, for the best business deals, the fastest cars, the prettiest girls. It was the last one that caused the most strife. We had similar tastes in women. We both liked voluptuous blondes. And, as fate would have it, my ex-fiancée had been both.
I pressed the call button on the phone. “Greta, bring my tuxedo to my office, the charcoal one.”