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“Ridiculous, maybe, but I’m still charming.” I wink, and she lifts the fold of black cloth—complete with gold accents to complement her costume—to my eyes.

“Lucky you’re cute.”

“Irresistible is the word you’re looking for.” I straighten the mask with long, lithe fingers, but don’t miss the way she rolls her eyes.

“You’re a cocky bastard, Jax Winter.”

“Maybe.” I tilt my gaze toward the mirror. “But a handsome one.”

And yet, the face that stares back at me from behind the glass almost feels . . . like a stranger’s visage. Weird, right? This is my face, the same face I’ve always had: long with high, angled cheekbones, bronzed Latino skin, unruly black curls, full lips. Cute. Adorable, really.

I mean sure, I’ve grown up a little. At twenty-six, I’ve filled out my six-two height a bit—I blame all the Spider-Man style climbing I’ve learned and executed over my somewhat physically demanding career—and the tailored Armani suit clings to my frame in a way that noticeably accents the V-cut of my narrow waist and broad shoulders.

But the diamond-stud earrings are hardly new, a reminder of that very first heist with my good friend Nick seven years ago—the one that ended so disastrously. The one that, arguably, made me the man I am today.

My eyes are also unchanged, round and dark, fringed in a forest of lashes beneath the same haircut I’ve always had—shaved in the back, short on the sides, a tumble of curls on top just long enough to escape the brim of my battered ball cap.

My absent ball cap. Stupid. “My head feels naked without my hat. You sure I can’t wear it?”

“To a masquerade party?” Rachel’s brows lift in what might be horror or amusement or some tangly combination of the two.

“Hm, I guess Beauty would look pretty silly next to a cap-wearing Beast.” I tilt my gaze toward the ceiling. “Or am I Gaston?”

Rachel rolls her eyes behind the mask.

I keep right on yapping. “Gaston’s probably hotter. So, yeah. Let’s go with that.”

“He’s the villain, Jax.”

“Darling, he’s not the villain.” I shake my head. “He’s just a poor misunderstood guy who hasn’t come to terms with his sexuality and is trying to make up for it with extra macho. We’ve all been there.”

Another eye roll. “Whatever you say.”

Still, feels like I’m down a limb or something. Or maybe it’s that under the smiles and suits, the muscles and mask, I’m somehow still just scrawny, scared Jax Summer, wearing the four-figure outfit, with the honed body and the cocky smirk of a guy I don’t know, haven’t even met, standing next to some very rich hot chick in a fucking ball gown.

I’ve got fucking cufflinks, for Christ’s sake. This ridiculous fancy diamond pair I actually purchased at a jewelry store like some kind of fancy fucker.

Like . . . who the hell’s that guy?

I grin at him, the dude in the glass, ’cause damn. He looks fucking good, and he’s got a pretty fab fucking life. Seriously, though. Who’m I kidding? I fucking love this shit.

And this time, I get to wear an actual mask? How fun!

Plus, you add masks into the mix of the party—reduced visibility, heightened crankiness, more drinking—and it’s like all the distraction part of thieving is done for me. Or in this case, Nick. Which means I typically wouldn’t even bother with a party like this, ’cause . . . boooring.

At this point in my career, I don’t need the money; it’s more for the shits and gigs than the dolla bills.

But hey. I’ve got the connection—Rachel’s dad is golf buddies with this guy—and it’s so easy, I’m sure I’ll find something to finagle outta there. You know, while I’m stalking my old pal on this mysterious venture. Two birds, one stone, all that jazz.

“So.” Rachel’s calm, cool voice drags me back from an admittedly quite lengthy mental sojourn. How long have I been staring at myself in the mirror like Narcissus’ more modern twin? “What do you think?”

She fans her flowy gold skirt out and twirls slowly, forcing me to admire. She is gorgeous, and she knows it too.

“Hot,” I tell her, offering a rare genuine smile. “Really fucking hot.”

“Yeah?” She throws me a grin and a flirty wink. “If you’re a good boy, maybe after the party, I'll let you find out what's under the dress.”

I smirk. “Like I don't already know all about your assets, love.”