On instinct, we all turn as if the King himself has arrived. Chase strides into the ballroom, looking swoon-worthy in a black tuxedo. His dark eyes and tan skin striking against a simple black velvet mask.
“Oh my, he looks like a sexier version of Zorro,” Millie says, her voice taking on a strange, husky tone.
I remain silent. I’m too busy shrinking inside at the goddess by his side. She sparkles in gold, her dress embossed with jewels, as if they’ve been woven into her skin. Her red hair flows down her back in soft curls, and a gold mask completes the look flawlessly. Chase’s gaze wanders in our direction, but I look away quickly. I take a large swig of my champagne, determined not to be affected by the sight of his hand gently brushing her lower back as he leads her toward the roped-off staircase that leads to the VIP section. A mezzanine level with balconies that curve elegantly around the ballroom. A place where upper management can peer down like royalty at the peasants below.
One champagne quickly becomes three. Or is it four? Followed by the obligatory round of tequila shots at Seb’s insistence. The dance floor becomes more enticing with each glass. The music is so loud we’ve given up on conversation and resorted to Seb entertaining us with stupid dance moves. Millie and Bethany wave to us from the center of the dance floor. Laughing, I follow Seb, with Ryan right behind me, as Seb shimmies through the crowd, bumping into people along the way thanks to his misplaced glasses. I’m having so much fun, I’ve almost forgotten a certain domineering CEO who almost ruined me with one brutal kiss. To my pride, I’ve avoided looking at him all evening. I ignore the tiny voice inside, reminding me of the monumental effort it’s taken to pretend I don’t care. Pretend I’m not imagining him choking on one of the elaborate gold jewels sewn on his beauty queen’s dress. But I can only ignore the demon on my shoulder for so long before his claws draw blood. Ryan’shands find my shoulders, and he spins me back, catching me off balance. My ankle buckles in my stilettos, but I pull myself upright, grabbing his hand as he spins me to face him. Laughing, I fall into his chest.
“Dammit, Ryan, you nearly made me fall.” He twirls me again, the room spinning in a blur of color and light. I plant my feet firmly, grounding myself, but as I turn back toward Ryan, something unseen grips me. A pull I can’t ignore.
My head tilts up, against my will.
Chase is watching me.
A slow heat unfurls across my skin as his eyes drag over me. I try to pull myself out of the moment, tear my gaze away, but it keeps flicking back as if he can draw me in with the sheer force of his will. Something in his eyes commands me. It’s as if he’s threading his fingers through my body, controlling every pulse, every breath, every slow, aching shift of my hips.
I blink, thrown off, as a raven-haired beauty in a devil-red mask emerges beside him. She’s just as stunning as the flame-haired goddess draped over him earlier.Ugh.Maybe he keeps a roster of women on rotation to satisfy his every whim. She melts into his side, lips grazing his ear, murmuring what I can only assume are sweet nothings. Chase doesn’t flinch. Doesn’t even blink. It’s like she doesn’t exist. His eyes stay locked on me, a dark energy I can’t name dancing in his eyes.
When she catches me staring, she flashes me a condescending smirk as if to sayyou’re wasting your time, honey.It’s enough of a reality check to snap my head back to where it should be. With my friends. Having fun. Forgetting Chase.
I need a breather.
Muttering an excuse, I weave through the crowd, slipping out in search of a bathroom. The champagne clouds my focus. I take a few wrong turns, leading me down a maze of hallwaysbefore finally finding one. Bracing my hands on the sink, I lean forward, my breath uneven, my pulse hammering.
Then, I catch my reflection.
Flushed cheeks. Green eyes that are nearly black. Razor-sharp nipples straining against my dress. I look like I’ve just been thoroughly fucked.
A groan slips out. I press a finger over one aching peak, hoping to calm the unbearable tightness. It does the opposite. A low whimper escapes, heat pooling between my thighs, my panties already impossibly slick. Every inch of me on fire, craving the touch and scent of a man who could never be mine.
I squeeze my eyes shut, inhaling deeply, begging my body to behave.
I need to get it together.
Before I do something stupid.
Chapter eleven
Chase
The whiskey glides down smoothly, spreading warmth through my chest as I swirl the glass, watching the amber liquid catch the light. Around me, the senior executive team is deep in discussion, dissecting our favorite topic of the moment. Tonight, the grand ballroom at the Waldorf is nothing more than an extension of our boardroom—only with better lighting and a more expensive guest list. Our usual Jamaican coffees have been traded for Macallan and Krug, but indulgence like this stopped impressing us long ago. It’s expected.
What really makes our mouths water, what has us shifting in our seats, blood thrumming with anticipation, isn’t the luxury surrounding us—it’s the hunt—the high of the chase, the thrill of the game. The Monarch deal is within touching distance, and there’s nothing more exhilarating than knowing we’re in touching distance.
“Monarch are dragging their feet,” Fergus mutters, rolling the stem of his wineglass between his fingers. “But it’s all posturing. They’ll sign.”
“They’re waiting to see how badly we want it,” Austen corrects, stretching an arm across the back of his chair. “Which is why we don’t blink. They’ll fold.”
“They don’t have a choice,” Jessica, our chief legal counsel, muses. “Our proposal wipes the floor with their other offers. It’s simply a matter of refining the edges.”
“They’re still holding that executive retreat in New Paltz next month,” Fergus adds. “If we don’t have them locked in by then, we’ll be negotiating on their timeline.”
Austen leans back, rolling his whiskey glass between his fingers. “Then let’s not give them that chance.”
He glances my way before adding, “I was thinking of taking Violet Harper along. She can present the software herself.”
He’s watching me as he says it, carefully, like he’s testing something, waiting to see if I react.
I keep my expression neutral. “She’s not senior enough for that.”
