Chapter 2
The ballroom was glittering. Five massive crystal chandeliers lit the space, their warm glow reflecting in the arched floor-to-ceiling mirrors that ran the length of the room.
Music swept down from the mezzanine where an orchestra was playing, and the melody carried beautiful couples across the dance floor.
The amount of wealth packed into the room was staggering. When I first arrived, I saw a woman wearing a necklace that was set with an emerald the size of my fist. I felt out of place in my department store dress and fake jewels.
“Where the hell are you, Asha?” I muttered to myself as I glanced down at my wrist, but my watch wasn’t there.
I’d taken it off before the ball, replacing my favorite accessory with a sparkling pink bracelet I’d made to match my mask.
Yesterday, I was proud of the jewelry I designed for tonight, but after seeing some of the pieces the guests were wearing, the faux crystals around my wrist didn’t seem so special anymore.
Sighing, I turned back to the crowd. Asha had disappeared what felt like ages ago.
She’d gone to order sodas from the bar since we couldn’t have any of the champagne being passed around by the waitstaff, and I was starting to feel awkward standing by myself.
Besides her, I didn’t know anyone here except for the CCA staff members, but they were all too busy entertaining important guests to keep me company.
In Asha’s absence, I’d claimed a deserted high-top cocktail table set beneath the balcony.
My spot was out of the way, perfect for people watching.
A sweet-looking elderly couple at the edge of the dance floor were moving slowly to their own tempo, and I easily spotted Ronald Gibbins, the CCA’s executive director, who was wearing a ridiculous top hat.
I continued to scan the crowd, hoping to catch sight of a celebrity, but it was hard to recognize anyone with all the masks.
That’s when I noticed him.
Unlike most of the colorful and ornately designed masks guests had donned at the beginning of the night, he’d chosen a simple but sleek black wolf that made his gray eyes pop. Even though he was standing a few yards away, I could see their startling shade as he stared at me without reservation.
He looked younger than most of the attendees. Maybe he was the son of a successful businessman or movie director? It was difficult to gauge how old he was with the upper half of his face covered. Eighteen or nineteen, if I had to guess. Possibly early twenties.
The only thing I knew for sure was that he was beautiful.
Not hot like Eddie Marks, the captain of the soccer team who I’d had a crush on since middle school.
Eddie knew how all the girls looked at him and used it to his advantage.
This boy, whoever he was, didn’t do that.
I didn’t know how I knew this—maybe it was the way he held himself, tall but not cocky, or the look in his eyes, lonely yet hopeful—but I could tell he wasn’t like the Eddies of the world.
We’d never met before, and yet…there was something about him I couldn’t put my finger on. Just holding his gaze made me feel like all my insides had been sucked out, and after two more seconds of direct eye contact, I focused my attention on the floor.
Wanting to look busy, I pulled out my phone to see if Asha had texted me. Maybe Gabe Grant was here, and she was off flirting in some dark corner of the room with him. But when I checked, there were no new texts from anyone. I clicked on Asha’s name and sent a quick message.
Felicity: You kidnapped or something?
I tucked my phone away and glanced up, hoping to see her heading toward me with two sodas in hand and a grin on her face.
She wasn’t, so I risked peeking at the guy with the piercing eyes.
He’d turned back to the people standing around him: a tall man with a streak of silver in his dark hair, but the same gray eyes as the boy; a woman in a green, skintight dress that reminded me of alligator skin; and Judy Perkins, a CCA board member.
Wolf Boy was listening to the conversation politely, but never once opened his mouth to comment while I was watching.
After a few more minutes of drumming my fingers on the cocktail table, there was still no sign of Asha.
Even the boy, who I’d taken to glancing at occasionally, had vanished, swallowed by the ebb and flow of the crowd.
If I didn’t go look for Asha now, I would spend the rest of my night standing alone and looking foolish, so I snatched my clutch from the table and stepped out of the shadows.
A massive bar had been assembled on the opposite side of the room—which I knew because I’d helped set it up—and I made my way in its general direction, weaving in and out of clusters of people.
I picked up snippets of conversations and laughter as I passed, and submerging myself in the party helped to ease my discomfort.
It took me a couple of minutes to cross the expansive ballroom, and as I caught sight of the glossy wooden counter of the bar, I thought I heard a familiar voice calling my name.
Standing on my tiptoes, I scanned the room, hoping to spot the bright blue of Asha’s sari.
When I didn’t, I pursed my lips and spun back around.
At that exact moment, someone slammed into my side.
I wobbled on my heels, and the half second before I lost my balance seemed to stretch endlessly as my chest fluttered in panic.
But before I could tumble over, a strong hand steadied me.
“Thank you—” I started, but then I looked up at my rescuer and froze. Standing before me was the guy in the wolf mask. He was even more gorgeous up close. He said something to me, but I was too stunned to process what.
When I didn’t answer, he tilted his head. “Miss?”
I blinked. “Huh?”
“Should I ask the waitstaff for a rag and club soda?” He spoke in a quiet tone, like he didn’t want anyone to hear him, but his voice was deep. A smooth, sexy deep.
“Why?”
He pointed to my dress. A brown liquid had spilled down the front, staining the pink fabric, and that was when I noticed the empty glass in his free hand.
“Shit!” I exclaimed, brushing away a few melting chunks of ice. The brown stain remained. “Shit, shit, shit!”
“I can pay for the dry cleaning if you—”
“No,” I snapped, pulling my arm away from him.
I spun around and dove back into the crowd.
The closest bathroom was under the mezzanine, and I rushed across the ballroom in half the time it took me before, not caring whether I bumped into people in my mad rush.
Barreling into the ladies’ room as fast as my heels allowed, I beelined for the sink.
After cranking on the faucet, I ripped paper towels from the nearby dispenser.
“Please come out, please come out,” I chanted desperately as I dabbed the stain. Some of the dark splotch lifted, but the fabric remained discolored. “Dammit!”
I chucked the useless wet paper in the trash and leaned against the sink, sucking in deep breaths to calm myself.
Never in my life had I been so upset about something as silly as a ruined outfit.
I wasn’t a materialistic person. I couldn’t afford to be.
My family had never been filthy rich, but as a partner at a law firm, my dad made enough money for us to live comfortably.
Not that I remembered that. Dad deserted us before I started first grade.
Mom maintained her lifestyle as an Orange County housewife for as long as possible, but the prenup she signed didn’t leave her with much.
By the time I was nine, all the money was gone, and she began selling off our things—the speedboat Dad left behind, some of her more expensive jewelry, the foosball table and flat screen from the basement—in order to keep the more important status symbols, like the house and her BMW. But eventually, those things went too.
It was my first year of middle school when my mom finally accepted that our lives had to change.
She, Rose, and I were watching my all time favorite movie, Legally Blonde, late one night.
Just when Elle was about to get her courtroom victory, the power went out.
But it wasn’t because of a storm. The electric company had pulled the plug since Mom wasn’t paying the bills.
I had to give her credit; she put on a brave face.
After the shock of the sudden darkness wore off, she dug out enough candles from the garage to light the living room.
For me, the night was a fun adventure. I got to camp out on the floor in a sleeping bag with my family.
I didn’t realize how bad the situation was until I woke to my mom crying.
They were silent sobs, but I could still hear her hitched breathing and occasional hiccup.
When I softly called her name and asked what was wrong, she pretended to be asleep.
The next day she put the house on the market and started looking for a job.
With a sigh, I returned my attention to the dress.
To say I had buyer’s remorse was an understatement.
I couldn’t stop thinking about how much I’d blown on a piece of clothing I’d wear once, especially since I needed every penny for school…
so I’d done something kind of awful. When I got dressed for the ball, I’d left on the price tag.
But now I’d never be able to return it. There was a huge wet patch down my torso, and trying to blot out the soda only made a bigger mess. I felt my eyes start to water.
Are you seriously going to cry over a dress? I scolded myself. Get your shit together, Felicity!