Page 226 of Savage Bosses

And just like that, any desire clouding my head dissipated. This weekend was a reprieveI should have taken months ago. It would be balls to the walls until Amber debuted at Love Con. The fictional dating agency, Paris in Springtime, inspired me, though I doubted anyone picked up on that as I outlined the app's parameters. A romance convention was the perfect place, and Dani Bond being there when I debuted it for beta didn't hurt.

But before genius, I needed inspiration.

I finished dressing and then checked my appearance in the mirror. The tux was a little overdone, but I was cosplaying as Benedict this time. The king of a planetary government would undoubtedly wear a tuxedo to a ball, along with the Venetian carnival mask I wore. My mouth and the back of my head were the only parts exposed. This way, I wouldn't have to remove it during the meal. It was the point of my secret cosplay identity. Dragon at the con. Ryu in the world. Considering my name meant dragon, it was on the nose, but no one ever connected the two identities.

Why would they? I kept my personal life separate.

My phone chimed, letting me know I needed to leave. I held up the mask of a jester laughing with the bells attached, then tied the ribbons so it would stay on. I like the irony of the mask—laughing on the outside not to be taken seriously as a badass on the inside that commanded attention. No one would ever think it was me.

I was dressed, and the evening awaited.

Ring!

I glanced at my phone. Cat's phone number shook on my screen. Interesting. We parted ways a year ago. Last I heard, she was dating a soccer player. Either that was over, or she had a burning question about technology that she needed information on for talking points with the next guy. “What's up, kitty cat?”

“You know I hate when you call me that,” she chuckled.

My hackles raised. Cat wanted something badly enough not to bother being subtle. “I wouldn't want your boyfriend to think we are on friendly terms. “

“You've been checking up on me.” She purred. “Then you should update your intel. Marco and I broke up a few days ago. I’m available and on the market. “

“No, thanks.” She didn't do casual, and the sex wasn't worth the aggravation of consistency. We were constantly in the tabloids during the short months we were together. When we ended, the drama went away as well.

“I'll let you think about it. Bye, lover. “

I ended the call without a response. She was pretty enough to land some other masochistic patsy. Cat would get bored and move on before I knew it.

My phone buzzed. I thumbed to the notifications and saw a text from Cat. It was an image of her wearing a short, low-cut dress with killer heels, eating a banana. It was captioned, “Blowing you a kiss".

I hated that I got hard from the memories of our past.

No. Not going there.

I opened the door to my suite, and it graced me with the type of happenstance I read in books. My Victoria walked by my room at the same time I exited. She was breathtaking. No wonder Benedict risked it all for her. I was ready to as well.

Almost.

“Warrior Queen,” I greeted.

She wore an emerald gown with a split up the side and one shoulder out. True to the character, she wore a leaf-shaped mask and a headdress that was a leaf tiara with pearls and shiny green leaves dangling, partially covering her hair. “Beautiful cosplay. Artsy or handmade?”

At least I could talk and compliment her without looking like an ass. I was simply admiring her dedication to the fandom.

“Handmade. It took a month to make the mask and headdress. I'm pleased with how they turned out.”

“As you should be. Join me?” I held out my arm in a courtly manner. I was cosplaying a king, after all.

She smiled, making my body hard. The want morphed into a need in .5 seconds flat.

“I would be delighted.” She took my arm.

We strolled down the hall to the elevators, where we were stopped several times for photos to the point that we had to refuse or would be late. Most of the photographers were on their way to the ball, so they followed us in a procession that drew even more people to us, requiring a few con staff to intervene. The two of us had become VIPs.

Then the real queen arrived outside the ballroom in a gown of blue with a blue and white Venetian mask. My heart raced at meeting my favorite author. The squeeze of death on my arm indicated I wasn't the only one trying to contain their fan lust.

Then as if we planned it, Victoria curtsied, and I bowed.

“It's nice to meet you, author goddess,” I said.

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