Page 5 of The Faceless Omega

His glamorous little obsession was an interesting woman. She was no good at standing still, wanting to see what was going on around her and engage with her environment. She actually made conversation when she had the chance, not resulting to senseless giggling and comments about the weather. The way she’d handled the incident with Gold Mask told him that she wasn’t some wilting wallflower, either. She had a backbone, an inner fire.

Every fucking thing he’d seen of her was stunning.

After however long it had been now since he’d first spotted her across the room, he was near out of his mind with desperation to see more. It had grown late enough that some of the guests had slipped away, many others had devolved into intoxicated mindlessness, and one pair had disappeared not-so-discreetly onto the main veranda. A notion Lennox would normally have rolled his eyes at.

The woman currently in front of them—a fifty-something divorcee—finally declared she had reached her limit for the night. While the females exchanged farewells, Lennox let his gaze stray. The dance floor had thinned with the hour, though a few bodies still defined the space. The live band continued to play.

On impulse, he reached up and let his fingers rest for the second time on the back of his fascination’s nearest arm. This time to catch her attention.

Her brown eyes lifted to him immediately, still clear and focused. He had no doubt she was just as beautiful beneath that feathery mask and sparkling face paint. “What is it?” she asked in her quieted, sweet voice.

Lennox offered her a smile for reassurance. “I know you haven’t been interested up to now,” he said, “but could I persuade you to grace me with a dance before the night ends?”

Her eyes widened slightly before her gaze shifted toward the center of the room.

He waited silently. Her hesitation was as obvious as it had been expected.

She drew a breath and met his stare again. “I’m not much of a formal dancer,” she said, whispering the words as though it were an embarrassing admission. “Between that and these heels….”

Lennox let his smile widen. “What rule says you have to wear the heels?”

“I couldn’t possibly go out there barefoot!”

His thumb stroked over the exposed skin of her arm without thought. She was soft and warm to the touch. “Why not?”

“It’s—” She cut herself off, rolled her luscious lips between her teeth, and said, “Besides, I have my clutch. I need a hand for that.”

He rumbled briefly. “So, you would grant me a dance if you had some place to set those things with peace of mind? Somewhere it didn’t feel wrong to move without shoes?”

Her mouth opened, the faintest of sounds squeaked from her, and finally she said, “I suppose. If you didn’t still mind being stepped on. But this opulent ballroom doesn’t have any of that.”

It most certainly did not. Lennox let his fingers graze down her arm, keeping his touch light and non-restrictive, until he had hold of her hand. He lifted her hand up so that her fingers draped outward, bent down, and brushed a kiss to her knuckles. “My suite has plenty of space. We could go there, and pick our own music.”

He was pretty sure he saw her pulse leap as her lips parted again on a sweet, torturous gasp.

“Your suite? You can’t be serious. We’ve only just met.”

He kept his words low and steady, kept his hold of her loose. “You would be free to leave whenever you wanted. I have no intentions to harm you.” But he wasn’t so ignorant that he didn’t understand why she—or any woman—would hesitate to believe such a claim. They’d shared each other’s company only for a few hours and hadn’t yet exchanged names, or seen each other’s faces. He was almost certainly pushing too hard.

“And what if I’m the threat here?” She pulled her hand away and planted it on her hip as if emphasizing her curves made any point beyond reminding him of her beauty. “Women can scheme and be dangerous, too.”

Lennox chuckled. “A risk I’m willing to take, then. I don’t think I’ve done anything tonight to earn your ire, and you would have had to do some impressively meticulous planning to know what I might be wearing tonight.”

She scrunched up her lips in a way that told him she wasn’t too impressed by his response.

He held out a hand in offer, to let her make a choice. “Or we could dance here, and make do.” He wanted both her hands on him. He wanted her alone, in a space that was at least temporarily his. He wanted her the fuck away from the damnable diffusors so he could catch her scent and take at least one good lungful. But he wasn’t going to force her.

The corner of her lower lip disappeared for several seconds as she chewed on it. “And if I said no?” Her question was cautious, both in wording and tone.

Lennox softened his expression. He was torn between applauding her caution and being aggravated by it, but he vocalized neither thought. That was his dilemma to handle. “Then the answer is no, and I’ll drop it.”

She studied him for another beat, clearly deciding whether or not to believe him. Then she blew out a sigh and placed her hand in his still-waiting palm. “Just so you know, I’m not too proud to scream my head off if this is some kind of trick. And I’m feisty. There’s no way the walls in the hotel arethatwell soundproofed.”

He grinned at her bravado and pulled her closer, keeping her hand in his as he bent forward and lowered his voice. “Is that ayes?”

She dipped her chin in what looked like a nod, stiffened with a sharp breath, and drew back enough to stare him properly in the eyes again. “I know this is an anonymous event,” she said, “but going back to a private room is different, and I need to know one thing. If you can’t answer, then no, my answer is no.”

Lennox tilted his head marginally. She couldn’t see his reflexively arched brow, so he asked, “What’s your question?”

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