by Meghan March
As was the norm in this town when you pulled on a mask, people felt free to dress more risqué, laugh louder, act bolder. I’d already been on the receiving end of a very handsy gentleman who’d apparently hit the open bar a bit too hard. Which wasn’t a terrible idea, I supposed.
I strode up to the shortest line. Tonight would go much faster with a drink in my hand. I might support the cause they were raising money for, but that didn’t mean I was endlessly entertained by the event. I’d rather be home, in my studio, waiting for a certain man to break into my house.
Rix had been MIA all afternoon and evening, and as much as I wanted to text and ask where he was and what he was doing, I hesitated. The only thing I was pretty certain of was that he would find his way into my bed tonight somehow.
A glass of red acquired, I circled the room, catching sight of my father. Even from here, it was obvious his eyes were on my mother as she gestured to one of the silent auction pieces, no doubt giving excellent reasons why the last bid was dreadfully underpriced and how someone could still grab it for a steal. She was an expert at that.
I made my way to my father.
“You’re looking dashing in your mask this evening.”
His smile was quick, but softened when he realized it was me. “Darling daughter. You look beautiful.”
My emerald-green dress was long and fitted, with a slit running up the back just past my knees. Without it, I wouldn’t have been able to walk in the thing. The V-cut of the front wasn’t exactly plunging, but rather the daring edge of flattering. I’d bought it months ago, and when I’d seen the event on my calendar for tonight, it had seemed like the perfect choice.
The looks I’d drawn since I’d walked in the door had me reconsidering whether I’d pushed the daring edge further than necessary, but I didn’t think so. It was the masks allowing more emboldened stares than one would normally encounter at a charity event. And apparently my father didn’t think it looked scandalous.
“You look handsome yourself.”
He lifted his highball glass to clink against the rim of my wineglass. “Your old man can still pull off black tie when necessary.” He winked at me and sipped.
It was no secret that my father hated wearing a tux. Bow ties were his nemesis, and no amount of black-tie events would ever make him see differently. In his position, especially with all of my mother’s causes, he’d been to a ridiculous number.
I glanced at my mother, still pushing the bid on a gorgeous abstract skyline of the city. “She’s in her element.”
“Of course. She’s emptying pockets for the good of the children of this city. You know there’s nothing she loves better than repurposing people’s funds.”
Repurposing people’s funds. A great way to describe it.
“Harold! Is that you under that mask?”
A man’s voice cut through the background music and chatter as he strode up to us. He was younger than my father by at least twenty years, with hair as black as night except for a little gray at the temples. He’d also opted for a suit and not a tux, and it fit him to perfection. His own mask hid parts of his face, but not his dark eyes and chiseled jaw. I didn’t think a woman alive would be able to argue he wasn’t handsome.
“Garrett Hughes, I haven’t seen your face in a long time. Heard you moved out of town.”
The men shook hands, and Hughes replied, “Business took me to the West Coast for the last year, but this place is always home.” His eyes fixed on me. “And who is this stunning woman?” His dark eyes sparkled with interest.
Oh no, I need another interested guy like I need another hole in my head.
“This is my daughter, Valentina. I believe I’ve mentioned her before.”
Hughes held out a hand, and I placed mine in it. He lifted it to his lips.
“Charmed.” His next words were directed at my father, but his attention never left me. “If I’d known the daughter you’d casually mentioned was one of the most beautiful women I’d ever seen, I would have pressed for an introduction and reconsidered leaving town for so long.”
My father’s laugh rang out from beside me. “I think there’s a good reason I never made more than a casual mention. A man like you would try to steal her away from us for good.”
Hughes’s smile widened. “Obviously.”
“But you might have missed your window, Hughes. Valentina’s got a man in her life.”
Hughes’s eyebrows rose above his mask. “Isn’t that the reason for the saying may the best man win?”
I finally joined the conversation. “I’m so sorry to disappoint you, Mr. Hughes, but I’m of the opinion that the best man has already won.”
“Whoa-ho!” My father chuckled. “She is serious about him. Sorry, Hughes. One thing is certain about my girl—she knows her mind and she doesn’t waver from it.”
If my father only knew where my mind was these days, he’d probably push me off on Hughes as fast as possible. He had no doubt I was talking about Rhett Hennessy, an upstanding member of the justice system, not a man on the wrong side of the law.
How was I ever going to tell my parents? But I had to. I would make them understand. Somehow.
“Well, at least grace me with a dance to let me down gently?” Hughes hadn’t released my hand.
I saw no easy way out of his invitation. At least a dozen couples were dancing in the center of the room to the strains of the jazz band providing the entertainment.
“Of course, Mr. Hughes. My pleasure,” I replied, a polite smile on my face.
“The pleasure is all mine, I promise.”
He led me out onto the dance floor, and I placed my wineglass on the tray of a passing server. Hughes’s dark gaze sharpened on my face as he placed a hand at my side.
“How serious is it?”
“As serious as it gets,” I replied without hesitation. I recognized a determined man when I saw one, and the only thing I could do to quell his interest was to be firm in my convictions.
“That’s a shame.”
“Maybe for you. I have to say I’m quite happy about it.”
His lips quirked. “You could at least pretend to let me down easy.”
Laughing, I followed his lead easily on the dance floor. “You just met me, and three minutes isn’t long enough to get your hopes up that high. I’m sure you’ll survive.”
“True. But still, missed opportunities are my least favorite kind.”
He slowed, and I stumbled as a deep voice came from behind me.
“I believe this is where I cut in.”
I swung my head around to see Rix standing beside us on the dance floor. A mask obscured most of his face, but I would know him anywhere.
Hughes released his grip on me. “Ah, as serious as it gets has come to stake his claim. Fair enough, sir. If she were mine, I wouldn’t let another man hold her either.”
With that, Hughes bowed off and Rix pulled me into his arms before we slid back into the dance.
So many thoughts jumbled in my brain, but the one that floated to the surface was probably the most ridiculous. Rix knows how to dance?
I couldn’t even speak for a full minute because I’d somehow lost the ability to form words. When I finally pulled it together, I whispered, “What are you doing here?”
“Thought I’d see what the fuss was all about with these fancy events.”
“Are you insane?”
His silver gaze locked on me. “Crazy about you, but I wouldn’t claim insane.”
“How did you even know I was here?”
He flashed a smile. “You know I’ve got eyes on you everywhere, duchess. I always know where you are.”
I did know that, but apparently I’d forgotten in the shock of seeing him here. “And you wanted to know what the fuss was about.”
A nod. “Didn’t much like what I saw.”
Hughes. He was talking about Hughes.
“I don’t even know him.”
Rix swept me in a turn. “You make a hab
it of dancing with guys you don’t know?”
“When they know my father and I have no graceful way to decline, I do. And where did you learn to dance?”
“My cousin liked to play cotillion when she was five or six, even though there was no way in hell she’d ever be going to one because we were all dirt poor. She never would’ve even heard of cotillion if not for Old Lady Able across the street telling stories about how her mama had gone to one. She had these footprint sheets showing the steps, and tapes of Fred Astaire and Ginger Rogers, and told my cousin she needed to learn like a proper young lady. I got roped into being her partner. I was all of eight or nine at the time. One whole summer, my cousin wanted to practice every day.”
I pictured a young boy, probably lanky and tall, if Rix’s height was any indication, stepping from footprint to footprint with a small girl. It was an endearing image.
“Guess there are some things you just don’t forget. Can’t say I haven’t used it to my advantage before.”
His last comment got my attention. “You like to take the ladies dancing? Wow them with your skills?”
“Don’t need to wow them with my dancing skills. You know the others are better.”
This entire moment was surreal. We shouldn’t be having this conversation. We shouldn’t be dancing to this song. He shouldn’t even be here. And yet, I wouldn’t trade this moment—even with the possible consequences—for anything. Every glimpse into Rix’s past was precious.
He spun me into another turn that took us right to the doorway, and pulled me out of the room.
“What—”
Rix didn’t respond, just crossed the lobby and stepped around a white curtain blocking one of the few sections closed for tonight’s event. It was a sign of how much I’d changed that I followed him without question or hesitation.
The room was lit only by the glow coming through the white curtain, and was empty of people. Scaffolding and white sheeting indicated this was the section currently being remodeled, and the lack of art on the wall confirmed my assumption. My mother had mentioned it before.
But thoughts of my mother evaporated when Rix’s hand slid through the slit in the back of my dress and he palmed my ass.
“Fuck. I knew you’d be wearing a thong with this.”
“I almost wore nothing under it.”
“Not unless you’re with me.” His words were pure alpha decree.
I could have pretended otherwise, but instead I went for the truth. “Why do you think I didn’t?”
Rix groaned and I shifted, already wet and eager for him to touch me. We could hear the band playing from rooms away and the sound of the party, but it didn’t occur to me to care. When he touched me, I lost all sense of reason.
His lips found mine, tasting, taking, spurring me on. Heat bloomed over my entire body. I wanted him. Now. Here.
Insanity. But I didn’t care. The urgency wasn’t only in me.
Rix pulled away and spoke low. “Turn around and grab the scaffolding, duchess. Bend forward.”
The newly found scandalous side of me reveled in his order. I gave no thought to anything beyond him, his touch, and how much I wanted him.
I turned and grabbed the scaffolding. “Hurry,” I said over my shoulder. My voice was barely a whisper.
“You gonna be able to stay quiet?”
Quiet? I’d have to be. I had no choice. But the reminder was a forbidden thrill of what we were doing.
Who am I?
A whole new woman. One who wasn’t afraid to push boundaries and take chances and live. And I really liked the new me.
Rix pushed my dress up, the slit up the back making access easier. Who knew I’d picked the perfect dress for tonight? His touch sent prickles of sensation across my skin as he slid my feet apart and tugged my panties to the side.
Wasting no time, Rix plunged one finger inside and groaned.
“Always ready for me. Fucking love that.”
I pressed back against him, loving it just as much. His finger slid out, swirled around my clit, and then disappeared. The quiet clink of a belt buckle met my ears, followed by the hiss of a zipper.
I can’t believe I’m doing this. But there’s no way I’m stopping.
The insanity of the moment ceased to matter when Rix pressed inside, filling me completely. A moan rose to my lips, but I bit it back.
Quiet. Be quiet.
As much as the thought of potentially getting caught was adding a forbidden edge to the pleasure thrumming through my body, I didn’t actually want to get caught. So I stayed quiet.
Rix shoved my dress further up, reaching around to cover my clit with his fingers. In this position, he hit my G-spot with every thrust, and there was no way I’d be able to hold on. My orgasm was already building and Rix increased his pace, silent as he pushed me to the edge.
I bit down on my bottom lip hard enough to sting as the pleasure overwhelmed me. I wanted to scream. Instead, I fractured from the inside out, shaking as the orgasm rocked through me. My body clenched down on his, and Rix’s low groan signaled that he was close. A few more thrusts and he stilled.
The sound of our heavy breathing was all I could hear above the soulful sounds of jazz sneaking in from beyond the curtain.
Oh my God. I can’t believe we just did that. Oh my God.
Insanity. Complete insanity. Mind-blowing insanity.
Rix pulled away, and wetness slid down my thighs.
Crap. Reality set in. “I gotta get to the ladies’ room to repair. And, um, clean up.”
“Shit. I should’ve . . . I didn’t even think. Fuck. I didn’t come here for this, regardless of what you’re thinking.”
My eyes met his in the darkness of the room. “Why did you come?”
“Same reason I always come. I can’t stay away.”
AS I LAY IN BED, Rix’s body curled around me, I couldn’t help but relive the events of tonight. We’d gone our separate ways once we’d left the closed-off room. Luckily, no one had seen me make my way to the restroom or his exit out a side door.
When I’d returned from the ladies’, Garrett Hughes hadn’t approached me again, but I’d felt his eyes on me. I’d stayed close to my father, wondering what he would have done if I’d brought Rix back into the room with me. How would I have introduced him?
Daddy, this is the guy I’m in love with. I don’t know his full name because I don’t ask questions. It’s better that way. I think he might love me too, but I don’t know because I’m afraid to bring it up.
I would sound like an idiot. Who gets into a relationship with someone they know virtually nothing about?
Tomorrow. I would ask all my questions tomorrow. Including the most important one—did we have a future?
Rix was gone when I woke, foiling my plans. No note. No text. Nothing. Did he have some kind of man-radar that went off when he knew I wanted to talk about something serious? Like questions he might not have answers to?
I busied myself getting ready for the day and arrived at the gallery an hour early. My new window sparkled in the sunlight, and I rearranged a few pieces. I had a gap on one wall and didn’t know what I wanted to use to fill it. A quiet voice inside me told me that it was where my work should go.
This new Valentina Noble was brave enough to take risks, but did those include baring her heart and soul, and letting the world know she was an artist as well? Did I have thick enough skin? Could I handle the comments that my work was amateurish and not high enough caliber to be displayed on my own walls?
I supposed I would find out.
I locked the door, set the alarm, and headed back home.
My Tesla wasn’t ideal for transporting artwork, but I fit three small pieces in the front seat. It had taken me nearly forty minutes to decide which ones to pick. I’d ended up selecting three that were similar in style to the one Yve and Lucas had bought. Which reminded me, I needed to honor my promise to notify them before I put these up for sale.
Trinity waited at the doo
r, head ducked to stare at her phone, as I approached with the canvases.
“Would you mind giving me a hand?” I asked, happy to see her in the spot she’d waited for me so many times before. It was like the world was righting itself again.
Her head jerked up and she took in my full arms. Scurrying over, she lifted the paintings from my hold. I didn’t normally show up with an armful of canvases, so the confusion on her face was justified. Normally our pieces were shipped in or dropped off by the artist.
“What are these?”
She looked down at them as I reached into my purse for my keys.
“They’re new pieces I’m going to sell.”
“Who’s the artist?”
Here it was, my opening. I swallowed and gathered all the strains of confidence floating around inside me. “Me.”
I expected shock. Instead I got a big smile.
“It’s about time.”
“Excuse me?”
Finding my keys, I pushed one into the lock and opened the door before turning off the alarm.
Trinity followed me inside. “You forget how many times I’ve been to your house. It’s not like you lock the door to your studio.”
No, but I definitely kept it closed. Then again, she was a curious girl.
“So you went snooping?”
“I smelled paint thinner, and I’m an artist. What would you have done?”
Good point. I pulled open the drawer to my desk and dropped my purse inside.
“Where are we going to put them?” Trinity asked.
“I’m debating. I . . . kind of sold one of my pieces already as an anonymous artist, and the buyers asked to be notified if any other pieces by that particular artist came up for sale.”
“Guess I missed out on a lot while I was watching Netflix and stuffing my face with Cheetos.”
She left out the part about being scared to death and locked in a room. I’d texted her several times over the last couple of days to check in, but her responses had all been along the same lines. I’m fine. I promise. No worse for wear. Actually, I’m lucky as hell it wasn’t worse, and I’m going to put it out of my mind.