Chapter 6 Elizabeth #2
A figure appears on the other side of the door, and I press myself back into a deep-set doorway, as flat as I can. The doorknob digs into my back, and I’m thankful that my black dress blends with the shadows. Intuitively, I know I shouldn’t let anyone see me.
The tall figure slips inside the exterior door, holding it so that it shuts silently. I can’t see his expression or his face clearly, but I recognize his confident swagger and the silhouette.
My stomach bottoms out.
What the hell is my ex-husband doing here?
Our divorce turned nasty when I discovered the affair I’d caught him in hadn’t been his first. Turns out he was a serial adulterer.
To make matters worse, we were partners in our law firm, something I thought we had sacrificed and built together for the last several years.
As our divorce attorneys sorted through the rubble of our marriage, arrangements had to be made to split the business, too.
And that—to use a pun from this evening—is when my ex-husband’s mask had completely come off.
Keith had apparently been laying the groundwork over the last few years to steal our clients, knowing that he ultimately planned to leave me for one of his wealthier girlfriends.
He undermined our clients’ confidence in my abilities, so that when the split happened, more than half of our clients left with him.
My hands tremble with rage at the sight of him. If he’s here to poach Natalya, I might actually kill him.
Battling the instinct to charge over to where he is hovering at the other end of the long hallway, I stay perfectly still. Barely breathing.
There’s something wrong with this scene.
Keith isn’t wearing a mask, and he came in the back door. He might be an amoral, greedy bastard, but he’s not stupid. The second he walks into the party, it will be obvious he doesn’t belong.
A door near him opens, and I see his shoulders relax.
What is going on?
Natalya steps into view. The shimmery material of her silver skirt is easily picked up, even in this light. Before I realize what’s happening, Keith is pulling her into his arms for a full-on, passionate kiss.
My heart drops.
The piece of shit. And what is she thinking? At her own engagement party?
But along with my outrage and shock is the familiar despair behind my breastbone. The twisty, sick feeling of not having been enough.
I must have made a sound because the couple freezes.
“Did you hear that?”
“No.” There is fear in Natalya’s voice.
“I think—”
“I’ll lock the door from this side. Jonathan locked it earlier to keep people out, but I used my key. I’ll lock it back.”
She takes a step in my direction.
There is no way she won’t see me, and even though my head is telling me I’m not the one doing something wrong, I don’t want to be found.
Holding my breath, I turn the handle at my back, thankful beyond reason when it turns silently, allowing me to squeeze through the opening.
I close the door and lean my forehead against the wood panels as I hear Natalya’s heels click past as she returns to Keith.
I count to one hundred before I risk cracking the door open to peer out.
I glimpse the couple pressed against a wall, only a few feet away, completely caught up with each other.
Ew.
I hate him with every atom of my being.
Closing the door again, I turn the lock and slump against it with my eyes closed, mind racing.
What am I supposed to do now? Keep checking every few minutes until they’re done and I can escape?
I’d rather pluck my eyeballs out than see that again.
I’m stuck for at least a few minutes, I think with a snarky smile. But it quickly disappears. Maybe it was just with me he was bored. I bury the feelings along with all the others that have popped up over the last year, hardening my heart.
“Funny,” a low, amused voice says. “I thought I was the only one hiding from the party.”
My entire body jerks, my eyes flying open. A single lamp on a low side table in front of a wall of bookshelves provides enough light for me to instantly locate the man seated behind a massive wood desk, crystal tumbler in hand.
“Who are you spying on?” His deep voice teases, making my stomach swoop a little. “Or are you just making sure the coast is clear and we’re alone?”
Okay, it might be the massive shoulders evident under his tailored tuxedo or that I can see his thigh muscles move underneath the fabric when he stands, but my heart is suddenly pounding in my chest.
He looks like he stepped out of a photo spread for debauchery.
He’s hot. Seriously hot.
His body anyway—the majority of his face is obscured by a black mask.
I feel my face flush, and I’m not sure if it’s because I’m embarrassed or because…
Never in my life have I had such an instant, visceral reaction to a man.
Probably because no one has touched you in forever, and because the evening is starting to feel like the movie you joked about, the voice in my head taunts.
He rounds the desk, his movements slow and unbothered, a smirk curving his lips.
“Did they send you to me?”
“What?”
“Are you my reward?”
As he prowls closer, I can see his eyes. Though his lips are smiling, they are definitely not. Stopping a few feet away he’s close enough that I can smell the rich scent of his cologne and make out the slight shadow of stubble beneath the mask.
His perusal of me is just as intense. His gaze travels over my body, from head to heels and back again, before settling on my mouth.
Bright green eyes blaze with heat, and the tanned column of his throat works as he swallows, sending inappropriately timed tingles from between my legs up to my breasts.
We stare at each other in silence, and I swear my heart is beating hard enough for him to hear.
“They certainly knew what they were doing when they chose you.” His words are so soft I almost miss the regretful note in them.
He closes the distance between us and catches the hair that’s come loose from my chignon. Rubbing the strands between his thumb and forefinger, his nostrils flare. “I don’t even want to imagine how expensive you are.”
It’s as if someone dumped a bucket of cold water over my head.
I slap his hand away. “Ex-fucking-cuse me?”
His eyes light with interest, but he doesn’t step back. I shove his chest, trying not to notice the solid wall of muscle, or that I am 1000 percent certain he wouldn’t have budged if he hadn’t wanted to.
The mystery man eases back a step, but his gaze is locked on me, keeping my nerves strung tight. My pulse jackrabbits, and my traitorous body thrums with unwanted need.
I wish I could see his face. It would make it easier to judge what he is thinking. But all I have to work with are his incredible eyes, firm jaw, and full lips.
Not helping, Elizabeth, I tell myself as the pulse between my thighs intensifies.
“You aren’t working tonight?” He finally breaks the tense silence, his posture relaxing.
“I am.” Is that disappointment in his eyes? “Sort of.”
His mouth quirks. “Either you are or you’re not.”
“This is work-adjacent. I’m a guest.”
Why am I explaining myself to him? I should leave, but it’s like I’m rooted to the spot, and my unfortunate curiosity wants to see where this conversation goes.
There’s no denying the relief in his eyes now, and the visible skin around his eyes relaxes.
“So, you’re not one of Carrow’s…” He lets his voice trail off, and his mask shifts as if he’s lifted his eyebrows.
Understanding hits me.
“I’m not a hooker, no.” I glare at him.
“I think he likes to call them companions.”
“Gross.”
“You shouldn’t be so judgmental. I know a lot of escorts.”
My lip curls. “I don’t think needing to pay for sex is something to brag about.”
Disappointment hits harder than it should.
What do you have to be disappointed about? Did you think this was going somewhere?
Hot guy in a mask… Yeah, for a second… maybe.
Not now.
He smiles. A flash of white in the lamplight.
“You’re right, though.” I say, sniffing. “If I were working, you wouldn’t be able to afford me.”
His head tips back and he laughs, a gesture so strangely genuine I can’t help but stare. My own lips twitch in response.
“So, you’re saying there is a price?” His chest is still heaving as he tries to stop laughing. “I’d like it noted that just because I know escorts, doesn’t mean I partake.”
I roll my eyes. There’s no malicious intent in his eyes. He’s teasing me, and I smile despite myself.
When was the last time someone teased me? Not since I left home, and I’m surprised to realize I miss the feeling.
“Everyone has a price.” My joke falls flat, his eyes darkening.
“Too true.”
“I wasn’t spying, by the way. I was... lost.”
“Somehow, I don’t believe you.” His lips tighten. “You need to be careful exploring dark hallways here. Not everyone here would ask if you were working… first.”
My jaw drops. “You think Carrow brought escorts to his engagement party”
Then again, his fiancée doesn’t have a problem having sex in a hallway during it.
Still… I thought Natalya’s taste was bad before… but this? This is a whole new level of catastrophic decision-making.
“I know he did.” Mystery man says it so casually I doubt myself.
No, I mentally shake myself. It’s definitely weird to bring sex workers to your engagement party.
“If you’re not a spy, who are you?” He walks toward the bar cart, but spins on a heel and lifts a finger. “On second thought, no names. More fun that way.”
And then he winks at me.
He just throws out a devastatingly sexy wink like it’s nothing, and plucks a bottle of scotch off the cart, while I’m trying to identify the warmth flooding my chest.
“Straight from Carrow’s private stash. We’ll call it retribution.”
“Retribution?” I follow him across the room.
“For having to endure his taste in parties.”
He pours two fingers each into a pair of heavy tumblers, handing me one with a slight bow.
I take it, my fingers brushing his for the briefest moment, a crackle of awareness sparking up my arm.
We clink glasses lightly.