Chapter 3
Axe stared down at the woman’s pretty, heart-shaped face, her wide, large eyes a shade of lavender he’d never seen on a person before.
The color matched her bouffant hairdo exactly, and along with the iridescent purple sheen on her pouty lips, complemented her brown skin so perfectly that it was as if her entire form glowed with something akin to magical fairy dust. A fine sheen highlighted the apples of her cheeks, and he noticed a tiny black velvet heart next to the curve of her mouth, near her chin.
The minuscule accent was more sensual than he could have ever imagined.
His fingers itched to touch it and caress the soft material.
As she pressed into him, he felt both the softness of her breasts and curves, along with the litheness of lean muscle.
After staring at him for a little too long, which he was enjoying a little too much, she squirmed, and he dropped his hands.
He stepped back only once because something made him want to stay near her.
The scent surrounding her was powdery and sweet, with an undertone of florals and a suggestion of something herbaceously earthy beneath it all.
Undeniably, it was complex and more than pleasant.
He closed his eyes and breathed in more deeply, trying to commit it to memory.
And no, it wasn’t because he was entranced by her and her fairy-enchanted prettiness in her costume (ok, maybe it was).
But working in the fragrance industry did that to a person.
Encountering a unique scent that brought them back to places or evoked long-forgotten memories was something to notice.
Trying to replicate it would inevitably be the daunting task that soon followed.
He’d read recently that the British Duke of Sussex (Prince Harry) described Princess Diana’s signature scent as akin to LSD.
Years after she’d passed, Harry took a bottle of her perfume to therapy to help him work through his issues.
As morbidly strange as that sounded, that’s how Axe felt in that moment; instantly high and free, floating on joyful buried childhood memories that flooded the most primal part of his brain.
The scent enfolding his senses reminded him so much of his grand-mere and the long summer days spent in the French countryside as a child, within her luscious herb garden filled with lavender, pretty creeping thyme, and lemon balm.
Bulbous, blossoming orange trees dotted the landscape, providing cool shade from the heat.
He flitted in and out from under the large shadows where he detected the soft aroma of delicate violet blooms growing beneath the trees’ shade.
The powdery softness punctuated the herbaceous thickness, creating a heady aroma of enchantment.
On an exhale, he suddenly uttered, “Violette,” surprising himself, as his eyes popped open.
He glanced down at her quickly, and she was surprised, too.
But that’s what a fragrance like that should be named—and consequently, what a sprite-like nymph of an enchanting woman dressed all in differing purple hues, from the top of her bouffant hairdo, down her frilly sexy dress, to her heels should be called.
“Um, no, that’s not my name,” the young woman said teasingly. A smile curved her full lips, transforming her pretty, astonished expression into brightness, mimicking the fragrance that clouded around her.
Something in him released as her laugh tinkled softly, washing over him, raising minuscule goosebumps along his skin. It was relief, he realized.
“But I do like it. It’s French for violet, right?” She continued. “And it is a masquerade, after all—oh, shoot, where’s my mask?”
She stepped back, looking around.
“Oh, crud,” she muttered with frustration, seeing it mangled underfoot.
Axe bent down to retrieve it, his hand grasping one end, just as she did the same. Their foreheads knocked together hard.
“Ow,” she uttered flatly, the smile still on her face as they both stood up, her hand to her forehead. “That’s going to leave a mark.” She rubbed the spot and laughed. “You, my friendly stranger, are proving to be a danger.”
He chuckled, surprised, rubbing his own temple. “I remember you running into me first, Violette.”
She nodded. “You’re right. Usually, I’m not this clumsy.” She smoothed the crease in her mask and put it up to her face, attempting to tie it on.
Without a word, he spun her around and began tying the ribbons deftly behind her fluffy, elaborate hairdo, noticing the intricate twists and curls up close, and a dusting of fine sparkles there, too. When he was finished, he noted a hint of shimmer remained on his fingers.
He rubbed them together, entranced once again as he commented, “I’m happy to hear it. I can’t risk injury, like losing a toe, when we dance together later.”
Now, where the hell did that come from? He didn’t flirt or ask unknown women to dance. Hell, he didn’t dance.
“We’ll see, Stranger Danger,” she said, turning back around, a coy smile playing on her shiny, puffy lips.
He chuckled, riveted as he watched the delicate pink tip of her tongue poke out of her mouth in a coquettish manner before she sucked in her bottom lip, trying not to laugh.
“Oh, so that’s my masquerade name?” he asked aghast, doing his best to hide his grin. “Doesn’t sound very … above board.”
It sounded practically perverted, and not in a good way.
“Hmm … you might have a point.” She closed her eyes tightly, tapping her chin and her toe simultaneously as she considered this.
“How about just Danger?” he asked, enjoying this little tête-à-tête. When was the last time he’d done this? Usually, he was on some mission to save one business crisis or another, or just kept to himself, completely sick of people and peopling.
“Ok.” Her eyes popped open in violet brightness. “Just Danger…” She wiggled her brows, and her shoulders shimmied before she hummed and giggled. “Kidding. I think Danger suits you just fine, considering I’ve been in two physical altercations with you already and neither of us asked for them.”
“I’m not opposed to it.” He stared down at this utterly charming woman, wondering who she was.
He hoped to know by the end of the night.
“Listen,” he continued, eager for the first time in a long time.
“I’m on a mission right now, which sounds like something someone named Danger would do.
” He looked up at the ceiling, thinking how ridiculous he sounded, before glancing down at her again.
But she was all ears, listening to him earnestly.
“But I’ll gladly meet you on the dance floor when I’m through. ”
He didn’t ask. That wasn’t how he did things when he did decide he wanted something.
“Well, aren’t you presumptuous?”
Ah, called out for his arrogance. It wasn’t the first time. He smiled lazily down at her.
She continued. “The rhyming was a nice touch, too.” She winked at him. “But what if I have plans with another masked stranger later?” Her chin lifted as she blinked slowly, not once but twice, her mouth in a perfect lavender pout.
He cocked his head to the side, deciding it was worth it for him to play this little game with her. She definitely held his attention. “Is there more than one masked stranger who’s put you in danger as eloquently as I have, fair Violette?”
She burst out laughing. “Why no, good Sir Danger. Only you have offered such gallantry this evening.” Their eyes met, and he held her lavender gaze for a beat before she looked away.
She really was intriguing and cutely sexy.
“How about I help you with your mission, and we get to the dance floor sooner rather than later?”
He answered quickly. “No. I’m looking for someone, and assistance isn’t required.” He couldn’t help sounding aggravated. His sister, Lucia, had been elusive all night, and he needed to speak to her immediately.
PR professional, my ass, he thought, only irritated with himself for believing his erratic family member would ever be serious about anything.
So far, she’d been missing at her post all evening—the one where she vetted guests at the entrance, making sure they were actually on the invite list. He’d already had security throw out two groups of party crashers who’d made it through, uninvited.
“Are you sure?” she asked.
He nodded. He didn’t want to involve a total stranger with an issue that was both personal and business—seemingly the story of his life lately. “It’s a work thing I need to take care of first—”
“Work?” A fine black brow arched high. The smile had slipped from her countenance, replaced by a grimace.
Thrown by her sudden change in demeanor, he answered with confused caution.
“Yes. I’m working tonight, and that comes first.” He crossed his arms over his chest, crushing the over-the-top cravat and blousy shirt that matched the black riding britches and boots he wore, having forgotten he was wearing the ridiculous costume his assistant rented for him.
She closed her eyes tightly and pinched the bridge of her nose with her fingers. “I suddenly have a migraine.”
She shook her head, opening her eyes. The huge smile across her glossy mouth didn’t quite reach the frostiness in her gaze.
A pink welt was materializing above her right brow, which no doubt matched the bump forming on his own forehead.
Hers almost appeared to throb as her voice, so tinkly before, was harsh as she angrily said, “Well, go on then. Work stops for nothing, right? Not even at a fancy party like this!”
Her hands shooed him away, and he would have laughed if he hadn’t noticed her seriousness. “Work, work, work.” She continued. “What is it with men and always needing to work?”
Wait, what was so wrong with work? Axe wondered.
Before he could ask, she turned away, leaving.
She got about five steps away and then turned back, stomping up to him, her expression still dark.
“And another thing, don’t bother looking for me later.
Work can be your dance partner for all I care!
Heck, take it to bed and see what a cold mistress she can be! ”
She turned on her heel in finality, her skirt flouncing, leaving him standing there, wondering if she was joking, continuing with their bizarre but not altogether terrible rapport from before.
But she kept walking, her back straight, her chin high.
The prominent hips of her dress swished enigmatically side to side, and his eyes followed them as she disappeared into a crowd of fancily costumed guests.
What just happened, and more importantly, what had work—his work—ever done to her?
He shook his head, amused and confused, fighting the urge to go after her … the scent she’d emanated still wafting in the air surrounding him. It was intoxicating, kind of like her flirty energy, and he closed his eyes, standing his ground, waiting for the sweetness to trail away.
Well, that’s women for you, he thought, opening his eyes and searching for a glimpse of purple, though useless.
The party had grown to a crush, crowding the extravagant event space located at the top of one of the city’s newer skyscrapers.
Naturally, he wouldn’t see her, and he could only be reassured in the safety of that.
Women were an unpredictable conundrum, and his reason for never pursuing any more.
It took too much energy to figure them out when he needed to focus on his own life.
It was so much easier when girls fell all over themselves to be with him.
But that rarely happened now. He’d become a man of a few words who liked his own company best, unless forced into the spotlight (like tonight).
It was why he’d been single for years. Today was not the day to get pulled into some unknown woman’s drama, or whatever was going through her pretty head, no matter how attractive she was.