Page 75 of Full Circle

Perfect.

By the time the charity gala started, I was unrecognizable. For the past few years I had worn my hair cropped at the sides, with longer, controlled waves at the top. Gone was the shaggy scruff that Cel—that certain people used to prefer. The hairstylist who arrived adjusted a dark brown wig that we slicked back to resemble the Phantom. Rather than wearing a mask that covered one side of my face, I added a white mask that covered the top half, only exposing my mouth and jawline.

The hairstylist, whose name I couldn’t remember, had bright pink hair and a mouth lathered in sparkly lipstick, kept shooting longing looks at my dick. When she was done, she leaned over my chair, exposing her cleavage until I could stare right down her shirt, and asked if I was satisfied with my experience. Her breathy voice only added to the invitation she was clearly extending to me.

Fuck that.

“Yep, we’re all good here,” I said, standing upright so abruptly that she fell back on her ass. I didn’t even offer to help her up, just swept from the bathroom into the bedroom of the suite and firmly closed the door. I locked it for good measure.

Women tended to throw themselves at me because money and power made their brains go funny. It was like they couldn’t actually see me as a person beyond me as a figurehead for my father’s corporation. Kinda gross, to be honest. Especially since I was a giant asshole to most people and nothing about my behavior should have been attractive, let alone indicated I was interested in fucking.

Nope, there was only one girl in that department. And if I played my cards right, I just might catch a glimpse of her before the weekend was over.

“Guests have started arriving,” Phillip called through the door. “Are you ready?”

I sighed. I would never be ready for one of these things. “Be out in a minute.”

Heading over to the bar cart tucked into a corner of the room, I poured myself a double shot of whiskey. Galas and parties didn’t make me nervous, but being so close to her did. Just knowing that I was close enough to jump in a car and go made me want to do it. The temptation was nearly bowling me over.

A masochist, however, I was not. I needed to get it through my head that she might very well reject me. And for all I knew, the restraining order had become permanent. I was too chicken shit to actually check the records during law school because learning that truth might have killed me. Dear old Dad certainly never let me forget about it any time I even hinted at wanting to write to her.

This was how to drive a man crazy. Keep his girl an arm’s length away.

Pouring another double, I threw the shot back and headed for the door.

* * *

A costume party benefiting Cure, Rise, Hope was the perfect idea, not that I’d ever tell Phillip. That jackass let every compliment go to his head. Costumes always established a warped sense of freedom at these events, and with the booze flowing and a different DJ in the VIP lounge, the main dance floor, and the roof top deck, there was plenty of opportunity for people to melt away as their inhibitions reigned.

The best part? None of the goons from my father’s society bothered me all night. My disguise was working perfectly so that I could wind through the dancers with ease. No one paid me any attention. Which suited me just fine because my nerves led me to down shot after shot. Alcohol was making my head fuzzy.

What surprised me, however, was that one woman on the main dance floor caught my attention. Her blonde hair was piled into an elaborate mess of curls on her head, sprinkled with blue sparkles that matched the light blue of her dress. It was short, almost showing her ass, but definitely drawing my attention to her long legs. I couldn’t stop my mind from wondering what might be in store for me underneath a costume like that. A traditional masquerade mask with lace, beads, and pale blue feathers obscured her face.

She seemed to be with only one friend, a woman dressed up like an old lady, including a walker and orthotic shoes. The juxtaposition between the two was quite comical, but I couldn’t shake the feeling that I had met them both before. It was an eerie sense of déjà vu that I hadn’t ever experienced, leaving me unsettled and drinking far more whiskey than I should have been. That was the only reason I hadn’t yet left for River’s Run. I was an asshole, but I wasn’t going to drive drunk. And I refused to be left in that tiny town without a vehicle to get myself back out.

The more that I watched them from my corner of the bar, the more my smile grew. They both were having fun, laughing and dancing to every song, shouting the lyrics to what must have been their favorites. Whiskey made me bolder than ever, and for once Phillip’s advice to move on from Celeste sounded appealing. There was no way I ever would have those thoughts sober, though, which was the only reason I hadn’t yet acted on them.

Still, the stiff drink in my hand was playing with my head. I had to talk to her, even if it was just a hello. It didn’t have to turn into anything more than a conversation, right?

My costume wasn’t the only phantom hallowing these halls tonight. Celeste, in all her ghostly, gorgeous glory, haunted me as I resolutely set my drink down and headed over.

CHAPTER 34

CINDERELLA AT THE BALL

CELESTE

It had been a long time since I had this much fun. Maggie had a way of bringing out my joy, making me forget all the stressors that were constantly weighing me down, so I could just be a carefree woman out on the town. What did it matter that my mama’s legacy was literally falling apart around me? Why did I care that my shattered heart no longer operated? Who else paid attention to the love of their life ghosting them on the worst day of their life? Certainly not me!

Music thumped loudly around me, the bass high and settling in my bones. Hours of standing on my feet at The Comfy Cushion day in and day out had prepared me to dance the night away now. Even in the too high heels Maggie forced on my feet, I barely felt a thing as I swayed my hips to the rhythm of the beat. Iris would have been proud of my skills.

I was simply proud that I managed not to break an ankle in a pair of heels that laced up my ankle with glittery, glass beads. Cinderella, indeed.

Maggie’s costume caused more than one rowdy pack of guys to buy us a round of drinks. Everyone thought it was hilarious to see a grandma get down on the dance floor. I had a delightful buzz, and even though I declined every offer to dance, all of the attention was flattering enough to forget my misgivings over my too-short dress.

“Yo, that man at the bar hasn’t taken his eyes off you for a second!” Maggie shouted in my ear. She nodded her head over my shoulder, directing my attention to a man in a tailored tuxedo with a white mask covering most of his face. He donned a top hat and a swordsman cape with his costume, but that wasn’t what made my heart flutter. It was the intensity of his smolder that instigated the goosebumps erupting down my arms and made my thighs clench together. No one had looked at me like that since Wesley.

The worst part? I didn’t exactly mind.

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