Page 1 of Monster's Edge

1

Iadjust my dress andlook around.

The party is a total drag.

These things always are. My dad’s business contacts want nothing more than to drink too much and schmooze all night.

Unfortunately for me, this means I have to make an appearance, and that appearance usually lasts about a million years.

“Champagne, miss?” A waiter stops beside me holding a silver tray filled with champagne flutes. The tray isn’t silver-plated like some people might think. It’s all silver. All of it. I know because my dad spent about half an hour talking with the caterers to make sure they had all-silver trays.

“Thanks,” I say, reaching for a flute.

As the waiter walks away, I sip my drink. I don’t need it. I’m already drunk. I was drunk before I even showed up here at this hotel. I was drunk before I got in the limo, sliding beside my older brother and his girlfriend for the ride. The two of them were completely silent the whole way over. They hate these things as much as I do. I don’t see them now, though.

They’re probably off fucking somewhere.

When I finish my drink, I set it down on a nearby table and make my way through the crowd of people in cocktail dresses and tuxedos. The band is playing music louder than it should. Not that I mind. It’s just another thing to numb the boredom of my life.

“Excuse me,” a deep voice says. I notice the man too late because right now, I’m bumping directly into his chest. Looking up, I see two bright brown eyes staring back at me, and just like that, my night is ruined and my pussy is soaked.

It’s Ian Salucci: my dad’s new business partner and the guy who is going to destroy everything about me if I’m not careful. I can tell just by looking at his eyes that he’s the kind of guy people underestimate.

That makes him dangerous.

I’ve read the write-up on this guy. 32. Tall. Dark. Rich. Hot as hell.

Penchant for blondes.

Too bad I’m a brunette.

Ian and I could have a lot of fun together if he was into girls like me: curvy, slightly-slutty girls whose fathers are overbearing and who don’t get out much.

Oh yeah, Ian and I could have arealgood time.

“Sorry, Ian,” I mutter. I don’t want to tell him that I’m too drunk for this or that I’m too tired to be here any longer. The night isn’t going the way I want it to. I’d hoped to be able to make my appearance, offer my greetings, and then slip away unnoticed.

“I’m not,” he says. His words are practically a growl. His voice is deeper now and slightly more aggressive than it was a moment ago.

What the hell? I look up to see him staring at me, but Ian doesn’t look professional the way he usually does. No, he lookshungry. Needy. Actually, he kind of looks like he wants to fuck me.

Interesting.

At 27, I’m not a virgin. I’m not even sort-of, kind-of a virgin, but I am wildly inexperienced with guys like Ian.

My sexual encounters have all been secrets: quick flings my father has no chance of discovering. I would never date a man like Ian. This guy exudes power. This is the kind of guy who would tie me up and spank my ass until I cried. I’m not ready for something like that...someone like that.

“You’re not...sorry?”

“No,” he answers. I realize at that moment he’s holding onto my wrists. When did that happen? I look down to see and sure enough, his hands are clasped around each of my wrists. I look back up at him, confused.

“What are you doing?”

What I mean to ask is, “Why are you touching me?”

Why are his hands on my body?

Why do I like it?

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