He ignores that completely and steps closer, crowdingmy space.
“Come on, don’t be shy.” His eyes rake over me—neck, chest, hips—like I’m a product he’s considering buying. “Pretty girl like you shouldn’t be alone at an event like this.”
“I’m not alone,” I say quickly. “I’m actually waiting for someone.”
“Lucky guy,” he says, but his tone says he doesn’t believe me—or worse, doesn’t care.
I try to step to the side, but his hand shoots out and brushes my arm—fingers curling lightly around my bare elbow.
It’s not a hard grip, not painful. But it’s notwantedeither.
And that makes my stomach twist.
I try to smile, polite but firm. “I should go—”
He chuckles. “You’re nervous. That’s cute.”
His hand slides lower, warm and possessive on the curve of my arm, and my skin prickles with discomfort.
I look around, heart stuttering. No one’s really watching. Everyone’s too wrapped up in their masks and their gossip and their martinis to notice some creep getting handsy with a girl who doesn’t know how to saystopwithout sounding dramatic.
He leans in closer, breath hot against my cheek. “You don’t have to play hard to get, you know. I’ve got a penthouse upstairs. You’d like the view.”
My throat dries. My feet won’t move.
“I said,” I repeat, softer this time, trying to avoid a scene, “don’t touch me.”
But hesmiles.
The kind of smile that saysoh, I will anyway.
And that’s when I feel it—another hand, wrapping firmly around my waist.
Bigger. Stronger. Steadying.
“Hey,” says a voice behind me. A voice rich as espresso and twice as strong. “There you are, babe.”
The man’s hand drops away like it’s been burned.
I turn.
And I meet a stranger’s eyes—blue, not soft or pale, but sharp and intense. The kind of blue that makes your breath catch.
A stranger in a black mask, tux jacket open, shirt collar slightly askew like he couldn’t be bothered to button all the way up. His gaze is locked on mine—steady, sharp,asking.
You okay?
I nod, barely.
He looks back at the other man, jaw hardening.
“She’s not interested,” he says calmly. Deadly calm.
The older man blinks, trying to reassert control. “Didn’t realize she was taken.”
Now my savior smiles.
And it’s not polite.
