Total pages in book: 89
Estimated words: 84442 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 422(@200wpm)___ 338(@250wpm)___ 281(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 84442 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 422(@200wpm)___ 338(@250wpm)___ 281(@300wpm)
“Taylor!” I hiss, glancing around nervously as we walk along the edge of the crowd. “Not here, someone could hear!” My face is so flushed that I can feel the heat radiating back at me beneath my mask, embarrassment flooding my veins. I know my attraction to Nicholas D’Amico is insane at best, but I can’t be blamed when he looks like that.
“Just trying to be helpful,” she says breezily. “No one’s listening to us, I promise. Now come on, Jesse’s going to impale himself on that stupid statue if he keeps waving his hands around like that.”
I follow her gaze to the group of her coworkers standing around a rather spiky abstract sculpture, but I’m not quite ready to socialize again. The hors d'oeuvres table is nearby, so I nod my head toward it instead of following her.
“I’ll catch up with you.”
Taylor tosses a wave over her shoulder. “Get me a plate too!”
As soon as I’m alone, I breathe a sigh of relief. Whoever had the idea to make this product launch a masquerade ball was brilliant because the anonymity allows me to melt into the sidelines as easily as breathing.
My forest green satin dress is the nicest thing I own, but it’s understated compared to many of the outfits I’ve seen so far. Hell, even the little finger foods on the catering table look obscenely expensive. No prepackaged fruit trays here. It’s all artfully crafted tea sandwiches and expensive cheeses nestled over delicate puff pastries.
I’ve never felt more out of place in my life.
It’s not until I hear a low, rumbling voice from beside me that I even notice someone has joined me in filling a plate.
“... Absolutely delicious.”
I jolt at the few words I do catch, missing the first half of his sentence in my shock. He’s tall and lean but obviously muscled. The trim cut of his button-down accentuates broad shoulders and a narrow waist with a suit jacket draped over one arm. I can’t see most of his face behind the delicately carved mask that rests on his cheekbones, but his steel-grey eyes flick up and down over my form and a lazy grin tugs at the corner of his lips.
I stammer out a few half-formed words, trying to process what’s happening.
He can’t be hitting on me, certainly not by calling me delicious. Men with perfectly bronzed skin built like Greek gods don’t hit on women like me.
“The food at these things is a step down from dog food,” he continues in a slow, amused drawl. “Whoever was hired for catering was a good pick this time around.”
Catering. The food. Delicious.
Right.
An awkward laugh bubbles up from my gut when I realize he was talking about the hors d’oeuvres. That makes a lot more sense than him flirting with me.
“Ah, I wouldn’t know. I’ve never been to an event like this before,” I admit, swallowing down my anxiety and forcing words out.
“First time? It’ll lose its appeal soon,” he jokes as he spoons a few pieces of fresh fruit onto his plate. “Who do you work for?”
Do people usually make small talk with total nobodies at events like this? It has to be obvious that I’m not high up on the food chain. There are people here wearing diamonds worth more than my entire apartment complex, and I’m wearing heels from Charlotte Russe.
“D’Amico Global. I’m a junior financial analyst.” That’s easy enough to answer, at least. I find myself rambling when those steely eyes meet mine again, my heart pounding in my chest. “My best friend works for the social media company that’s marketing the launch, so she gave me her extra ticket. I wanted to network a bit, get out of my comfort zone.”
And I’m regretting that decision with every word that falls from my lips.
“Always good to try new things,” he says with a contemplative tilt of his head, smirking like he’s talking about something else entirely.
“Definitely,” I agree, forcing a smile and hoping I don’t look as nervous as I feel. “I’m having a great time.”
A dry laugh rolls out from the man’s lips. “Could’ve fooled me.”
I wince, looking at him bashfully from beneath my lashes as I rub the back of my neck.
“Okay, this may not be my scene. Am I that obvious?”
His grin only widens, and he leans down to whisper conspiratorially, “I’m more of a reader these days myself, but I promise it’s not that bad. It’s actually kind of nice to rub elbows on the rare occasion. Give it some time and you’ll be a pro.”
He’s more… blunt than reassuring, really, but it’s kind of cute. I certainly appreciate it more than Taylor’s endless energy for this sort of thing.
At least one other person isn’t thrilled to be here.
Speaking of Taylor, I catch sight of her over the masked man’s shoulder. Her honey-blonde hair bounces around her as she impatiently waves me over, mouthing something that I can’t quite make out with the mask obscuring half her face.