I’d already made arrangements for that, and in due time, she’d receive my package.
***
Two hours later, I stood in the downstairs living room in a black trench coat, a black hat, and a pair of black gloves. I was already running late for this event, and there was still no sign of her.
I glanced at my watch, wondering what was taking her so long—not because I was worried about showing up late to theevent, but because I was eager to see her all dolled up in the dress I’d had delivered to her room.
I checked my watch one last time, telling myself that if she wasn’t down in the next five minutes, I’d go up to her room to see for myself. That thought hadn’t settled when a sweet fragrance, a mix of lavender and fresh flowers, filled the room.
My breath hitched when I raised my head toward the curved staircase and saw her descending like an angel. Her chestnut-brown hair, which often fell in waves to her mid-back, was styled in a neat bun this evening.
She wore light makeup that blended with her porcelain skin—natural yet elegant. The pearls around her neck glinted in the soft light, and her bright, stormy blues sparkled with something I had yet to name.
A long furry coat made from expensive fabric draped effortlessly over the blue gown that hugged her body like a second skin. She walked down the stairs like a beauty queen—slow and majestic—her manicured fingers trailing along the polished railing.
As she moved, the long slit that traveled up one side of her dress revealed glimpses of her thighs. While caressing the railing with one hand, she clutched a designer purse with the other.
Her beauty thawed something frozen inside me, and for a moment I was mesmerized. Her heels clicked softly against the floor as she walked toward me with quiet elegance.
“You’re late,” I said, keeping a straight face.
“You clearly haven’t lived with a woman before,” she answered, her usual sass lacing her tone.
I couldn’t help tracing the gentle curve of her lips, painted a bold shade of red. They looked so enticing, and the thoughts of claiming them as mine came flooding into my mind.
“Just for tonight,” I said, distracting myself from her alluring beauty. “Behave.”
A small, knowing smirk tugged at the corners of her mouth. “Is that a command…or a request?”
My gaze lingered on her for a moment longer before I turned around and headed toward the door without a word.
***
We arrived at the event about thirty minutes after leaving the mansion. The hall was filled with the elites of society, all dressed in their finest. The soft hum of conversations drifted through the air as the guests gathered in small groups, talking in Russian and laughing.
Candlelight flickered across the fine marble floor, matching the warm glow of the hanging chandeliers. Waiters in their black-and-white attire moved through the crowd, trays of champagne and canapés balanced on their hands.
Somewhere in a corner, a man in a black suit was playing a grand piano. As his fingers worked their magic on the keyboard, his powerful voice filled the space.
He threw his head back, pitching a high note that stunned the crowd. A collective gasp rose from amongst them as they watched him in awe. The man stole the show, playing so well that he impressed everyone in the hall, including myself.
After his performance ended, the crowd erupted into a light round of applause.
“Wow! That was wicked—spectacular!” my plus-one said to herself, jamming her hands together. “Now, that’s how you steal a show.” She glanced at me and nudged her shoulder against mine. “Wouldn’t you agree?”
“I’ve seen better. Heard better,” I replied, grabbing a glass of champagne from a waiter’s tray.
“Right. That’s why you couldn’t even pretend to be impressed—to support the young man at least.” She reached out and helped herself with a glass as well.
“I don’t pretend.” I took a sip, eyes discreetly sweeping the surroundings out of habit. “The music was good. But I’ve heard better. Period.”
She let out a soft chuckle. “I see what’s happening here.” Her eyes narrowed on me. “You’re jealous.”
My brows furrowed as I faced her. “Jealous?”
“Yes,” she answered. “I mean, a man as powerful as you must be used to always being the center of attention. Now that someone else—a handsome, sexy, young man—is the one in the spotlight, you don’t like it.”
Her assumption was rather ridiculous. However, I couldn’t help but feel some type of way after she listed the man’s physical qualities in an endearing tone.
