Page 6 of A Bossy Proposal

I loved his apartment. Living in New York is expensive, and having a boyfriend who worked on Wall Street had its perks.

It’s just another bump in the road.I tell myself. Because I’ve had plenty.

I straighten up, smoothing down my dress. I have to decide now, and it’s not about Felix or Jodie or the shambles of my love life.

But first, I’m going to get steaming drunk, and for the first time in my life, fuck a stranger.

Chapter 3

Amelia

“Men are bastards,” I shout over the music to Carly, who’s grinding behind me.

She nods, her eyes sparkling with mischief. “Preach it, sister!”

We’re making quite the scene, two masked women in designer dresses, dancing like we don’t give a damn. And we don’t.

My veins are buzzing from the champagne I’m drinking, but can’t afford.

Luckily, Felix can.

After borrowing his black Amex card, I’ve charged it with everything, including the expensive champagne.

I sway on the dance floor, the bass thumping through my bones as I down another flute of champagne. The bubbles tickle my nose, and I can’t help but laugh.

As I dance, I adjust my mask; the soft, intricate pattern rubs against my cheeks.

Here, everyone is anonymous, and it’s liberating to not look over my shoulder. Or it could be the champagne I’ve been drinking all night that’s taken the edge off.

“Thank God for these masks,” I yell, gesturing to the intricate lace covering half my face. “Wouldn’t want anyone to know it’s me making a fool of myself.”

Carly spins me around, her hands on my hips. “Live a little, babe! Who cares what they think?”

Without warning, a shiver runs down my spine. The hair on the back of my neck rises. It’s like someone’s watching me.

I slow down, my eyes scanning the crowd, searching for a pair of eyes that are looking at me. The masks make it impossible to tell, though. Everyone looks the same, their features obscured by lace or leather.

I spin around again, faster this time, trying to shake off the feeling. But it only intensifies. My skin prickles with goosebumps as unease creeps up my spine.

I glance around, my eyes darting from one masked face to another, but no one seems out of place.

It’s your imagination. Stop worrying.

Carly leans closer, her eyes sparkling with too much champagne. She mouths something, but I can’t make out what she’s saying over the pounding music. She cups my ear and yells, “I told you Jodie was trouble!”

I nod. “I should’ve listened. But tonight I want to drink and dance and forget him and her.”

The music pulses on, but I’m frozen, my senses on high alert as I scan the room, searching for any sign of...what? I’m not sure.

“I feel like someone is watching me,” I tell Carly.

“Of course, someone is looking at you. You’re wearing a sexy dress that clings to your body like it was made for you.”

I laugh.

“I suppose so.”

The feeling persists, though, a nagging sense that someone’s eyes are on me. I raise my glass to my lips, taking a nervous sip of champagne. My eyes never leave the crowd, still scanning for that elusive gaze.

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