Page 16 of The Billionaire's Masquerade Ball

“It’s likely the first time she’s been quoted at a charity gala. This doesn’t quite seem like the literary crowd.” She swept an arm out toward the other couples on the dance floor.

He returned her hand to his shoulder, closer to his neck. Cynder fought an urge to let her fingers slide over to the bare skin at his neck. She wondered what it would feel like to touch the hair that was just barely over his collar.

These feelings weren’t just stemming from the false bravery she felt wearing a mask. It was him. His smile was infectious. He hadn’t seemed to stop smiling since she grabbed him. And he knew poetry, or at least one poem, well enough to quote it on a whim. He seemed … different. Her thoughts spun suddenly to the stranger in the cemetery. But it’s not like she met that man or even that he was interested. The pull towards him had been simply compassion. This man was right in front of her. This moment was real.

“Oh, I don’t know,” he said. “There are a lot of well-educated people in this room.”

“I’m sure,” Cynder said. “But more interested in name-dropping and dropping wads of cash than reciting poetry.”

“At least tonight they’re dropping wads of cash for a good cause, no?”

“True.”

Cynder bit back the words running through her mind about the event and the people attending. All of them would likely give her away as someone who didn’t have wads of cash to drop. It made her sound like she was being bitter. She fell silent, watching people over his shoulder rather than looking at his face. His face was far too tempting.

As though he could read her thoughts, he shifted, pulling her ever-so-slightly closer. He smelled so good, like expensive cologne, sharp and spicy and masculine. A smirk appeared on his lips.

Oh no…he did not just see me sniff him…

The confidence that Cynder had felt seemed to be evaporating and she stiffened, shrinking back into her insecurities. She had very little experience being this close to a man. A very charming and attractive man.

A flurry of nerves rose up, rattling her. Cynder wished she could channel some of Lucy’s ease and confidence. Lucy was a serial dater. Lots of boyfriends or dates, but none serious. Cynder had watched her get ready, listened to her giggle on the phone, even watched her flirt in person, studying every small movement like she could somehow absorb them and replicate them. But dancing close to this man, even hidden safely behind a mask, Cynder was too much in her own head to simply relax and enjoy. She had done it for a moment or two, but couldn’t seem to sustain that confident ease.

The song ended and couples around them clapped politely. Before he could say or do anything to make her change her mind, Cynder stepped back. He dropped his hands, but looked like he was going to reach for her again.

“It was nice not meeting you,” she said with a smile. “Thanks for, uh, helping me out.”

“Anytime. I’ll be here all night if you need another dance partner. Or an escape.”

She smiled, torn between wanting to stay and wanting to run away without looking back. Not wanting to ruin the dress by wiping her sweaty palms on them, she clasped them behind her back.

He licked his lips and fidgeted. “Are you—will I—uh…” He shook his head. “Maybe we could—”

“Goodnight!” Cynder said, darting back through the crowd at almost a run.

She could almost hear Lucy booing. She would kill Cynder if she had seen this display of cowardice. But Lucy was in the back, hopefully keeping things running more smoothly than they were out here. Because, looking around as she grew the distance between the mystery man and herself, Cynder saw a whole lot of things that she would have been on top of that were just sliding.

A few servers were gathered together, laughing and talking, while several guests craned their necks, looking for a refill of their drinks. A long line had formed at the bar, where somehow there was only one bartender mixing drinks, not three. Several of the food tables looked like they had been mobbed and needed to be refilled.

Where was Gail? Eliza? Crystal? Patrick was still near the bar. Cynder realized that he wasn’t waiting in line, but standing beside the bar, just ordering drinks, cutting in front of the other patrons.

Cynder knew she should do something about it. But in the moment, it all felt like too much.

She needed to breathe. Remembering the schematics of the building and setup, Cynder ducked behind a heavy drape and found a set of stairs leading up to a small balcony. She could decompress for a few minutes and maybe also get a sense of how she could best fix this mess down below, or decide if she wanted to at all. Maybe it was time to let go.

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