Page 29 of Bulletproof Love

“You don’t know the worst of it, sweetheart.” He turns the wheel, driving slowly toward the rest of the guests exiting their cars. “Let’s do this thing. Turn on your earpiece so Leon can hear you.”

I pull the small device out of my palm-sized clutch purse and fit it into my ear the way Leon showed me earlier. I click the miniscule button, and adjust my hair over my ear. “Leon? Can you hear me?”

“Copy,” Leon responds, sounding official. Once that’s in place, I pull on my mask. It’s black to match my gown, with silver embellishments that I added myself the other night. I’m happy with how it came out. At a passing glance, it almost looks expensive.

“All good?” Jasper asks, as he adjusts his own communication device and black mask. He’ll have to be careful not to get too close to anyone, as his hair doesn’t fully cover his ear like mine. I nod while he whispers to Leon.

Once we’re ready, I move to open my car door, but his hand shoots out and grasps my gloved wrist. “Let me.”

Huffing, I nod. Might as well let him try to act like a gentleman. It’ll be interesting to see, at least.

He steps out of the car, and as he passes by the headlights, I’m struck by how damn hot he looks in his tux. It could have been custom-tailored just for him, the fabric hugging every muscled curve of his chest and arms as if straining to contain him. The pants hardly restrain his thick thighs. I can only imagine how good his ass looks in them. Shit, am I drooling?

He opens my door, letting in a blast of cold air that chills me to the bone. My breath hitches but I force myself to climb out of the car, taking Jasper’s outstretched hand. “Thanks.”

“Of course,” he says, flashing me an obnoxiously gorgeous smile.

He hands the valet the car key and we follow another couple into the house. For a girl like me, who grew up in rural Ohio and has bounced from city apartment to city apartment, walking into a home like the one towering in front of us is absolutely wild. But then again, my life’s been a wild ride since Jasper’s come into it.

We’re asked for our names again at the door, but this time the whole ordeal takes less than a minute. No one questions us about our identities, at least not yet. I release a breath, feeling the tension I’ve been holding leave my shoulders.

“We’re in,” Jasper whispers to Leon. He takes my hand and we follow the couple ahead of us down a wide hall lined with gilded oil paintings and brocade window treatments toward the sound of instrumental music.

“Do you find it odd that apart from the music, it’s super quiet?” Jasper asks. I’m impressed by his observation skills. I hadn’t noticed until he said something, too busy taking in the artwork covering almost every spare inch of wall.

“I didn’t before, but I do now. Do you think we’re early?”

He checks his watch and shrugs. “We’re right on time. Maybe in their world, that’s early. I guess we’ll see.” As we round a corner, a woman appears seemingly out of nowhere. She’s not wearing a mask, and is dressed in black pants and a white button down. Must be a staff member.

“Right this way,” she says, in a singsong voice, gesturing toward the large door ahead. I decide to take a chance and talk to her.

“Are we early to the party?” I let out a nervous laugh. “It’s our first time here.”

Her eyes dart between us and she smiles, definitely a practiced expression. “Not at all. You’re right on time. Here you are.”

She opens the door and it’s as if we’re looking at an entirely different space. A jazz quartet plays upbeat music from the corner of the large ballroom. Rhythmic bass line and piano melodies float above the hum of conversation. Crystal chandeliers cast a warm, intimate glow throughout the space, almost fooling me into believing the people here are warm too. About fifty of them, masked and elegantly dressed, cluster in groups around high cocktail tables draped with midnight blue linens, while silver and gold New Year’s decorations shimmer throughout. Ice sculptures glitter on silver stands near the busy bar, and servers walk around holding trays packed with delicious looking hors d’oeuvres. The room manages to feel overwhelmingly huge and intimate at once, with plush seating areas tucked into alcoves and corners, offering quieter spaces away from the main floor.

Normally, I’d appreciate that about a party, but now I just think of all the nooks and crannies Jasper and I will have to keep eyes on.

“So what should I look for?” Other than getting in, the guys didn’t have much of a plan.

“Nothing in particular. We’ll know when we see it. Let’s get a drink.” With my hand still folded into his, he leads me toward the bar. I know I shouldn’t drink. My reflexes need to be in top form, but it is a party, and I don’t want to look out of place. Maybe just one to help settle my nerves.

Jasper orders for me—a vodka cranberry with a splash of seltzer. My usual drink. I pull my hand out of his and run my fingers over the edge of the bar. “How did you know?”

His eyes shine brightly through the mask as he turns to look at me. “What?”

“My drink. That’s what I always order.”

We’re interrupted before he can answer. A broad-shouldered man knocks into Jasper, making him stumble against the bar. His face is fully concealed by a silver mask, the only visible features being his dark hair with graying temples, nearly black eyes, and hard lips.

“Sorry.” He sticks a hand out to steady Jasper. “Party just started and I’m already tripping to get to the bar. Don’t let the wife know.” He laughs too hard at his own joke.

“No harm done.” Jasper nods and smiles in a perfunctory way, but I notice how his eyes wander, assessing the man without making it obvious.

After ordering a whiskey neat, the man turns back to us, giving us a once-over. “I don’t believe we’ve met.” He states it as a fact, not a question, before sticking his hand out toward Jasper again, completely ignoring me. Not that I want his attention, but it’s hard to keep my eyes from rolling with how blatantly sexist this man is. “Harrison Fairfax, party host and owner of two left feet apparently.”

Ah, so this is Mr. Fairfax. He looks harmless enough, but there is something about his demeanor that makes me want to run for the hills. Jasper shakes his hand, slipping back into his Mr. Charming act. “Thanks for having us. What are you drinking?”

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