Page 4 of Take Me Under

“Are you alright?” he asked. His voice was as smooth as his appearance.

Unease etched across his flawlessly chiseled features, and I realized I was gawking at him like a smitten schoolgirl. He was devastatingly gorgeous—of that there was no doubt. But it was the potent sexual energy radiating from him that rendered me irrationally speechless.

I blinked twice and shifted slightly back, forcing myself to focus. Clearing my throat, I gave him a quick nod.

“I’m fine, thank you. It seems poofy layers are in vogue this season. I should have informed the dress designer about my terrible rapport with poof. We had a bad break up some years ago, and I swore I’d never go back.”

A hint of a smile played at the corners of his mouth, almost as if he were holding back a chuckle. He glided his hand down the length of my arm, stopping near my elbow.

“Are you sure you’re okay?”

“Yes, of course. Why?” I asked, biting down on my lower lip.

“Your pulse. It’s racing.”

“Is it?” I practically squeaked. I moved to pull my arm away, but he caught me and held firm to my hand.

Something dark smoldered in the depths of those ruthless eyes, and he seemed closer than he had been a few momentsbefore. Our heads were only a foot apart, and I wondered if he would kiss me. Surely, I had to be mistaken. After all, we’d only just met, and I didn’t even know his name.

Still, I couldn’t stop myself from breathing in, needing to indulge in his scent once more. The tempting blend of pine and fresh water with his natural masculinity was a heady combination. It reminded me of that alluring smell of rain in the air just before a wicked storm.

Much to my disappointment, he stepped back until we were a respectable distance apart, but he continued to hold my hand in his. His fingers grazed my palm until I remembered I didn’t have soft, feminine hands like most other women he probably interacted with. Mine were calloused from years of working in the dirt. Feeling self-conscious, I pulled my hand away.

His onyx eyes flashed, and his brows pushed together. If I wasn’t mistaken, my action seemed to displease him.

“What’s your name?” he asked.

“Serena.”

“A name fit for a princess. I’m Anton.”

Adonis. Apollo. Ares. Anton. Of course, his name would sound like it belonged to a mythical God. Why wouldn’t it? Was Anton even the name of a God?

Someone in my line of work should know that answer, but the minute I’d laid eyes on this alluring man, my brain had turned to mush. I was utterly captivated by him. It was as if he had cast a hypnotic spell over me.

I bit my lower lip to stop swooning even more, then gave him a small smile.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Anton.”

“I can assure you—the pleasure is all mine,” he drawled.

Holy hell.

I fought the threatening blush and tried to ignore how his comment made me feel. The effort was in vain. Despite my best efforts, embarrassing heat flooded my cheeks. Between hisaffluent attire and ruthlessly handsome features, this man was way too sexy for his own good.

His eyes shifted to linger on the ruby around my neck before falling to the swell of my breasts. His gaze stayed there only briefly, but long enough for me to notice. I felt my flush deepen, but I didn’t mind his slow appraisal. It didn’t feel like inappropriate ogling but more like a show of appreciation.

“I’m on my way to the Met Gala. I assume that’s where you’re headed as well?” he questioned, looking pointedly at my dress.

“If I can muster up the courage to climb those steps, then yes. I’m here by invitation from a friend, the designer of my dress.”

“Ah, I see. And your escort? Where is he, princess?” he prodded.

Escort? As in, my date?

I didn’t think people used such formal terms anymore.

“Oh. Um...no escort. This is just business.” My reply came out stilted and unsure. I couldn’t quite understand why he was asking or calling me ”princess,” but it made my stomach flutter.

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