Juliana’s gaze darted around the main hall of the Donville Masquerade, taking in the overwhelming sight of everything around her. There were the lovers, of course. Impossible to ignore because they were here to play out every fantasy for the world to see. She shivered as she hesitated to watch two men grinding against a woman, their bodies all writhing together.
But as she broke away from staring at what made her tingle, she also sought out other things. Winston Leonard, for one. She needed to know if he had returned to Donville, not just for her own protection, but to alert Ellis when she found him.
Because, oh yes, she had every intention of finding him. He would argue and try to tell her that he didn’t want her, but she didn’t believe him. He had pleasured her and taken none of his own. If he were truly using her, he could have ruined her and never thought of her again.
Instead, he’d taken care of her, soothed her, listened to her tale and her fear. Those weren’t the actions of a man who didn’t give a damn. So she refused to let him pretend he didn’t.
She turned sideways, edging between a tightly packed group of patrons gawking at a woman dancing on an elevated stage in the back of the room. Just as she managed to pass through and turned to walk normally again, a tall gentleman with extremely straight posture stepped into her path.
“Good evening, miss,” he said, all formality, almost like a military man.
She didn’t know the man but felt immediately comfortable with him. “Yes?”
“I’m Paul Abbot. I manage the daily activities of the club. Will you step away with me a moment? I need to speak to you.” He motioned to a quieter corner where none of the commotion and scandalous activity was happening. It was well lit, though, and still felt safe.
“Certainly,” she said, following as he took her aside. When they were away from the others, he turned and smiled. Almost apologetically. Her heart thudded.
“Miss, I am afraid I must ask you to leave the club,” he said, kindly but without room for argument.
Her brow wrinkled. “I-I’m sorry, you want me to leave? I don’t understand.”
He nodded. “I realize that. And I do apologize, but we have determined that you must be asked to leave tonight. And not return. I do not think you have a long-term membership.”
She shook her head, still confused. “No, I have been paying my nightly entry fee each time I came here. Is it…is that not allowed? I will pay for a membership if that is required.”
“It is not,” he said. “Ladies who wish to attend can pay a nightly rate, as you have been doing, or a membership fee. It isn’t the money that is the issue, I’m afraid. It has simply been determined that you are not a good fit for the club.”
She couldn’t help but lift her hand to where her scar was hidden beneath her mask. She felt the heat of embarrassment fill her cheeks as she stared at the gentleman before her. He was so kind about all of this, but that didn’t make her feel any better about it.
“Why?” she asked. “Do I not deserve an answer as to why?”
He drew a breath, and his gaze darted toward the stairs at the back of the hall. The ones that led up to the office where Marcus Rivers, the notorious owner of the club, kept his watch. Everyone whispered about the man. He was more legend than human.
She shifted. How would a man like that know anything about her? Why would he care enough to ban her? Unless he had been told something about her by…
She jerked her face back toward Mr. Abbot. “Mr. Rivers is a friend to Mr. Maitland,” she said, recalling when Ellis had told her the same.
Abbot’s expression didn’t change. “I do not speak about the patrons here, miss. You understand.”
“That bastard,” she grumbled, clenching her hands at her sides. “How dare he. Howdarehe!”
“Miss, making a scene will not change anything,” Abbot said, still kindly, but more firmly. “Let me escort you to your vehicle. I will return tonight’s entrance fee to you with our apologies and have you on your way.”
“I want to talk to Marcus Rivers,” she said, folding her arms and widening her stance a little.
He leaned back, and for a moment Abbot looked almost impressed. Then he gave a small smile. “I’m afraid that is not possible.”
“You seem the kind of man who can make anything possible,” she retorted, glad that her shaking hands weren’t so obvious when they were tucked away. “I assume your job is to do exactly that. I want to speak to himnow.”
Abbot took a deep breath to argue, but before he could, another deep, rough voice interrupted from behind her. “I will discuss the matter with the lady if she wishes. Thank you, Abbot.”
She pivoted and found herself staring at a very tall, very intimidating, very handsome man. He had a calm, unreadable expression and the darkest green eyes she’d ever seen. She swallowed, intimidated by his size and his presence.
“M-Mr. Rivers?” she stammered.
He inclined his head. “At your service.” He leaned closer. “It would be best if we have this conversation in my office, don’t you think? My appearance in the hall tends to attract attention, and I think you might not want that.”
She glanced around and found every nearby head had indeed pivoted to watch the club owner as he spoke to her. She swallowed, praying she would not be recognized despite her mask, and nodded. “Yes. Lead the way, sir.”
