Page 15 of The Billionaire's Masquerade Ball

She had no sooner turned than she ran into a man who had been walking by at that moment. “Excuse me,” she said, trying not to stumble in the heels Lucy had given her.

He steadied her with rough hands on her elbows. “I’m so sorry,” he said, not sounding sorry at all. She recognized the voice as she looked up at his face. Patrick. Of all the luck …

“It’s fine.” Cynder pulled back from his touch and tried to step away, hoping he didn’t recognize her.

He stepped in her path with a smile that made her want to shiver. Not in a good way. “How about a dance? I’d love to see that body move.”

Cynder hated his words and the lascivious way he eyed her. It was just her luck that even in disguise, Patrick honed in on her. He apparently had a type and she was it. He pressed closer. With the table at her back, Cynder felt stuck.

“I’m sorry, I promised this dance to someone else,” Cynder said, desperate to get away. She grabbed the arm of a man who had been standing just within reach. “There you are.” She gave her most brilliant smile to the stranger, begging him with her eyes to play along, hoping her eyes were even visible enough for him to see her desperation. She wondered if he had heard Patrick’s remarks.

The man’s face, however, was hard to read, as most of it was covered by a smooth black mask. She could just barely make out brown eyes. His cheeks were covered in a short beard.

After a quick beat, he smiled. Her stomach fluttered at the sight of his straight white teeth. Friendly, but with a little mischief thrown in. “Darling,” he said. “Sorry about that. I had no idea who—I mean, where—you were. Shall we?”

Cynder let him pull her away from a frowning Patrick, who was already turning back toward the direction of the bar. Hopefully Gail would keep an eye on his drinking. But could she really control him? She couldn’t worry about it.

The orchestra played a slow song. The stranger turned Cynder to face him, still smiling. Now that she was safe from Patrick, Cynder felt the familiar buzz of nerves that hit her any time she was in a remotely romantic moment with a man.

Cynder looked at the floor because she couldn’t look at his face. “You don’t have to. I was just trying to get away from him.”

She tried to pull away, but his hands found her waist. The touch of his fingers through the thin fabric of the dress sent a current of heat up her spine.

“A dance is a perfect way to thank me for playing along. Don’t you think?” he asked.

That smile would make her agree to almost anything, but Cynder still hesitated. She opened her mouth to protest and his hands tightened just the slightest bit on her hips. Despite the firm grip, his voice was softer as he spoke. “Please?”

Cynder tried to bury her nerves. She looked away from his face, intense even with the mask, but put her hands on his shoulders. It was easier if she didn’t look right at him. Her mind was telling her to run, but her body wanted to melt into his arms.

“Okay. And thank you.”

For a few minutes they danced in silence as she looked everywhere but at his face. Except for her nervousness, this moment felt romantic. She didn’t know his name and couldn’t see his full face, but what she could see—when she stole quick glances—was handsome. His arms were firm and strong. Even the smell of his cologne was amazing. Cynder tried to relax and just be in the moment.

After a few minutes, he cleared his throat and ducked his head a little, trying to catch her eye.

“Was that guy bothering you? Because it would be very easy for me to get him thrown out of here. Do you know him?”

“Sort of. It’s a long story. Let’s forget about him.”

“Forget about who?” He kept a straight face until she smiled, then he did as well.

Maybe it was the mask or the realization that her life was drastically about to change, but Cynder finally started to relax. In fact, she felt a strange rush of bravado. She could be anyone, just for tonight. What could she possibly lose that she hadn’t already or wouldn’t soon?

“So, do you have a name?” he asked.

She blinked for a moment, trying to make up a name on the spot. She was definitely not giving him her real name.

“Not tonight. A masquerade ball is the perfect excuse to be…no one. Don’t you think?”

“I couldn’t agree more. I’m nobody, who are you? Are you nobody too? There’s a pair of us, don’t tell! They’d banish us, you know.”

Cynder laughed. “Are you quoting Emily Dickinson?”

“Maybe.”

“Does that work on women usually?” Cynder could hardly believe her own words. She was flirting. It felt strange and somehow easy with him.

He chuckled. “Not usually. I’m hoping for a first.”

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