Chapter One
Riley
One Year and Five Months Later
I’m so not supposed to be here.
The massive conference hall at the Rosen Hotel has been converted into an elegant ballroom, glittering golden lights reflecting off the flawlessly waxed floors and sparkling in an endless sea of champagne flutes.
A sea of masked faces surrounds me, everyone dressed in gowns and suits that look custom tailored and probably cost more than several months of my rent. The masquerade ball is in full swing.
If Taylor, my ride or die, wasn’t at my side, I’m pretty sure I’d have thrown up beside one of the ridiculous art installations the first time someone asked me what country club I belong to.
It’s thanks to my best friend—using ‘thanks’ very lightly here—that I was invited in the first place.
Taylor works for the social media company that D’Amico Global Headquarters, the firm I work at, is using to market their latest product release.
She insisted I come along with her when she got an extra ticket.
I didn’t have the heart to tell her no. Now, standing awkwardly at Taylor’s side while she sweet-talks her way through yet another conversation, I’m wishing I had.
“It’s so refreshing to see such intelligent, beautiful young ladies instead of grouchy old men like me.” Allen is probably in his seventies, but the twinkle in his green eyes tells me he was a real charmer when he was younger. “And Riley, do you work with your friend here?”
I gulp and force my smile wider, endlessly grateful for the masquerade mask and hoping it hides the panic in my eyes.
“No, sir, I’m a junior financial analyst. I work for D’Amico Global.”
“I invited her along to get her used to events like these.” Taylor leans in close to the man, and his wrinkled face flushes when she places a hand on his arm. “She’s talented, but she’s still new to the business. I thought it’d be smart to start her early.”
Allen huffs out a pleased little noise, not-so-subtly shifting closer to Taylor and placing a hand over hers.
“Smart girl you are,” he says with a grin. “A friend of mine is having a private pre-launch for a new endeavor of his next quarter. Very exclusive; only the top investors will be there. I think he’d be thrilled if I could bring along some new talent to assist. What do you ladies say?”
Taylor and I share an excited glance. She gives him a sunny smile as she reaches into her bag to pull out a sleek black business card. I fumble to do the same.
“You should give us a call,” she says with a wink.
“I’ll have my people call your people,” he promises.
“I look forward to it.” Taylor’s eyes stray to another group of people now that she’s caught her prey, and she squeezes the man’s arm once more before dropping her hand.
“It was absolutely lovely to meet you, Allen, but we have to run. A few colleagues just showed up and we can’t throw them to the wolves this early in the evening. ”
Allen chuckles, waving us off and snagging another glass of champagne from one of the roaming waiters. “Go have fun, girls. You’ll be hearing from me.”
We peel off through the crowd, and I breathe a sigh of relief as soon as we’re out of earshot.
“Chin up, buckaroo,” Taylor says with a playful nudge. “You’re doing great.”
“How do you do this all the time?” I groan, keeping my smile carefully in place for anyone who happens to glance over.
I can’t be looking miserable when I’m supposed to be advancing my career, after all.
Mom raised me to work my ass off, just like she did.
I’m not going to let a little (or a lot of) social anxiety get in my way.
“Got the gift of the gab.” Taylor grins, entirely at ease in her ornate lace mask and shiny black silk gown, gold jewelry glittering.
At least one of us looks like we belong here.
“You wanted to network. Grin and bear it for a bit longer. I promise I’ll let you hermit away in your apartment for a month after this. ”
“Thank God,” I say, a little of the tension bleeding out of my shoulders.
Taylor laughs brightly, rolling her eyes at me.
“Don’t look so happy, getting out is good for you!
Can’t waste that pretty face on spreadsheets.
” She snags us each a glass of champagne and presses one into my hand with a devious grin.
“Maybe you’ll even meet someone while you’re here.
God knows you could use a distraction from that crush on your CEO. ”
“Taylor!” I hiss, glancing around nervously as we walk along the edge of the crowd.
“Not here, someone could hear!” My face is so flushed that I can feel the heat radiating back at me beneath my mask, embarrassment flooding my veins.
I know my attraction to Nicholas D’Amico is insane at best, but I can’t be blamed when he looks like that.
“Just trying to be helpful,” she says breezily. “No one’s listening to us, I promise. Now come on, Jesse’s going to impale himself on that stupid statue if he keeps waving his hands around like that.”
I follow her gaze to the group of her coworkers standing around a rather spiky abstract sculpture, but I’m not quite ready to socialize again. The hors d'oeuvres table is nearby, so I nod my head toward it instead of following her.
“I’ll catch up with you.”
Taylor tosses a wave over her shoulder. “Get me a plate too!”
As soon as I’m alone, I breathe a sigh of relief. Whoever had the idea to make this product launch a masquerade ball was brilliant because the anonymity allows me to melt into the sidelines as easily as breathing.
My forest green satin dress is the nicest thing I own, but it’s understated compared to many of the outfits I’ve seen so far.
Hell, even the little finger foods on the catering table look obscenely expensive.
No prepackaged fruit trays here. It’s all artfully crafted tea sandwiches and expensive cheeses nestled over delicate puff pastries.
I’ve never felt more out of place in my life.
It’s not until I hear a low, rumbling voice from beside me that I even notice someone has joined me in filling a plate.
“... Absolutely delicious.”
I jolt at the few words I do catch, missing the first half of his sentence in my shock.
He’s tall and lean but obviously muscled.
The trim cut of his button-down accentuates broad shoulders and a narrow waist with a suit jacket draped over one arm.
I can’t see most of his face behind the delicately carved mask that rests on his cheekbones, but his steel-grey eyes flick up and down over my form and a lazy grin tugs at the corner of his lips.
I stammer out a few half-formed words, trying to process what’s happening.
He can’t be hitting on me, certainly not by calling me delicious. Men with perfectly bronzed skin built like Greek gods don’t hit on women like me.
“The food at these things is a step down from dog food,” he continues in a slow, amused drawl. “Whoever was hired for catering was a good pick this time around.”
Catering. The food. Delicious.
Right.
An awkward laugh bubbles up from my gut when I realize he was talking about the hors d’oeuvres. That makes a lot more sense than him flirting with me.
“Ah, I wouldn’t know. I’ve never been to an event like this before,” I admit, swallowing down my anxiety and forcing words out.
“First time? It’ll lose its appeal soon,” he jokes as he spoons a few pieces of fresh fruit onto his plate. “Who do you work for?”
Do people usually make small talk with total nobodies at events like this? It has to be obvious that I’m not high up on the food chain. There are people here wearing diamonds worth more than my entire apartment complex, and I’m wearing heels from Charlotte Russe.
“D’Amico Global. I’m a junior financial analyst.” That’s easy enough to answer, at least. I find myself rambling when those steely eyes meet mine again, my heart pounding in my chest. “My best friend works for the social media company that’s marketing the launch, so she gave me her extra ticket.
I wanted to network a bit, get out of my comfort zone. ”
And I’m regretting that decision with every word that falls from my lips.
“Always good to try new things,” he says with a contemplative tilt of his head, smirking like he’s talking about something else entirely.
“Definitely,” I agree, forcing a smile and hoping I don’t look as nervous as I feel. “I’m having a great time.”
A dry laugh rolls out from the man’s lips. “Could’ve fooled me.”
I wince, looking at him bashfully from beneath my lashes as I rub the back of my neck.
“Okay, this may not be my scene. Am I that obvious?”
His grin only widens, and he leans down to whisper conspiratorially, “I’m more of a reader these days myself, but I promise it’s not that bad. It’s actually kind of nice to rub elbows on the rare occasion. Give it some time and you’ll be a pro.”
He’s more… blunt than reassuring, really, but it’s kind of cute. I certainly appreciate it more than Taylor’s endless energy for this sort of thing.
At least one other person isn’t thrilled to be here.
Speaking of Taylor, I catch sight of her over the masked man’s shoulder. Her honey-blonde hair bounces around her as she impatiently waves me over, mouthing something that I can’t quite make out with the mask obscuring half her face.
Turning my attention back to the man, I adjust the fit of my own mask, ensuring the lace sits properly and smile much more easily.
“I’m really sorry to cut this short,” I say apologetically. “I’d love to keep chatting, but my friend is calling me over. She probably has more introductions she wants to torture me with.”
He glances over his shoulder, the waves of his dark hair catching the light and making the sharp cut of his jaw all the more breathtaking. A soft hum rumbles from his lips as he turns back to face me, and his eyes flit over my form again.
“A shame,” he muses. “I was rather enjoying your company.”
I flush brightly but remind myself that I’ve already been proven wrong about thinking he was flirting earlier. There’s no reason to repeat the same mistake.
“You too,” I say, nodding and beginning to step away.
Before I make it more than a step, he stops me with a brush of fingers against my elbow.
“What do you say we grab coffee sometime? I’d love to continue our earlier conversation.”
Considering our earlier conversation was about a fat heap of nothing, I assume that he means he’d like to do some real networking. Maybe he wants to propose something with D’Amico Global?
If I generate even a single lead from tonight, it’ll be a success.
“That’d be lovely!” I pull another business card from the tiny purse Taylor lent me and hold it out to him.
He looks down at the card with a thoughtful noise, his lips twitching up in amusement.
“I was hoping for your personal number…” He tilts his head to read the card before flicking his eyes up to mine again, “Miss Morgan.”
Heat flares in my gut at the open want in his gaze, the quick flash of his tongue when he wets his lips. I may have misread it earlier, but there’s no way to mistake this for anything but flirting.
Blatant flirting, at that.
“O-oh. Um. Yes, yeah, sure.”
I fumble a pen out of my purse and scribble my cell number on the back. He plucks it from my hand with a smug grin when I hold it out this time.
“Perfect,” he says smoothly, like I’m not so flustered I’m about to self-combust. “Run along to your friends before they miss you. I’ll text you.”
He nods over his shoulder as he pockets the card, and I find myself obeying on autopilot. Did that just happen? Or did I just have a very vivid, anxiety-induced hallucination?
That makes more sense, right?
I glance behind me just before I reach Taylor’s little circle, hoping to catch a glimpse of him, just to prove to myself he was real, but he’s nowhere to be found. I shake my head to clear it before painting on the same strained smile I’ve worn all night.
“What took you so long?” Taylor asks as I step up beside her, already reaching for a cube of pineapple with a toothpick in it. “I was about to come get you myself.”
“Oh, I was talking—”
“Ladies and gentlemen, if I may have your attention,” a voice calls out over the microphone, cutting me off as the lights dim.
My phone buzzes at the same time, and I glance into my bag to see it’s a text from an unknown number. Everyone’s attention is fixed to the front, where one of the board members is giving a speech thanking specific donors, so I surreptitiously pull my phone out to check it.
Did my mystery man actually text me?
Unknown Number: Be good and rub some elbows for me, Miss Morgan.
My breath hitches with excitement. It was real. Holy shit.
Taylor nudges me with her elbow, nodding her head toward the stage with a playful glance down at my phone.
I slip it back into my purse just as tonight’s guest of honor steps out onstage, unmasked and wearing a navy suit that clings to him like a second skin.
Dark hair carefully styled to fall in perfect waves across his forehead, olive skin that glows under the spotlights, and a dangerously charming smile.
Nicholas D’Amico.
My CEO. Also my biggest, most hopeless crush.
I bite my lips to stifle a dreamy sigh. Taylor snickers knowingly from beside me.
Maybe my new mystery man will be able to pull me away from just how ridiculously smitten I am with my boss. God knows literally anyone would be more attainable.