Page 133 of Scorned Beauty
“Enjoying yourself?” he asked by my ear.
“Yes.”
His mask was a simple black one, but it cast him in a sinister aura. In this setting, and in his elegant threads, he reminded me of the notorious rakes of old who debauched innocent virgins or carried on scandalous affairs with married women of the ton.
My mask covered half my face. It had satin backing material, but an intricate silver detailing was stitched over the fabric, giving it structure. Tastefully affixed white feathers softened the sharp edges.
White-gloved attendants spun around the room, serving cocktails and canapés. Dom handed me a fruity martini while he sipped a Negroni from a short, round glass. The drink stimulated my appetite, and I pinched a canapé from the roving server.
We circulated among strangers, but I spotted Dom’s parents and Lucy talking to another group. I bit into a round pie pastry and an instantly addictive briny, earthy flavor exploded in my mouth. I devoured it, took a sip of my martini, then left Dom who was exchanging small talk with yet another stranger.Unmindful that I was wearing a gown, I chased the server who handed me that particular appetizer. You can take the girl out of Jersey, but you can’t take Jersey out of the girl.
“Can I have another one? What is this?”
The server was also in a mask, so I couldn’t discern his true expression, but the twitch of his mouth almost made me laugh.
“I’m sorry if I’m being uncouth, but this is delicious.” I picked another round pie from the platter. This time, after I took a bite, I studied the filling.
“Black-tie scallops,” the man said. “It’s scallops layered with black truffle.”
You couldn’t live in New York and not know what a black truffle was, and I knew the scallop was its perfect complement at least, but I’d never had a combination this scrumptious. I could feast on this all night long.
“Would you like another one, ma’am?”
Dom came up behind me and whispered, “We still have dinner to get through, baby. Don’t fill up.”
“But these are so good.”
“I’m familiar with the restaurant that makes this. I can have the chef of the event make you enough to come out of your ears.”
I smiled at the server. “Well, carry on. I don’t want to hog you, but give my compliments to the chef.”
The man’s neck turned red, and he cleared his throat. “I will, ma’am.”
Dom turned me around in his arms. “Have I discovered your favorite dish?”
I pondered his question. “It could be. Maybe I have expensive taste after all.”
Dom barked a laugh, calling the attention of the crowd around us. And why not? It was an attractive laugh, rough and masculine and sexy. But when I saw a few women’s gazes linger covetously on Dom, possessiveness clawed my skin. I leanedinto him and I was pleased he drew me closer. Despite my voluminous gown, I fit snugly into his embrace.
The host, the former pakhan Ivan Zahkarov, announced dinner. Another gilded room with warm lighting greeted us. A string quartet provided music, although I heard there would be an elaborate orchestra for dancing later. But as we were escorted to our table, an anvil settled in my gut.
Dom’s parents were already seated at a table that sat nine. Lucy didn’t have a date, so I guessed they made adjustments to the seating chart and it would have normally accommodated ten. I was thankfully seated beside her, so I felt a measure of relief that I didn’t have to make small talk with their mother. I could concentrate on dinner.
We removed our masks. The other couples around the table reeked of old money. It was funny how despite not belonging to their class, I could sniff their kind a mile away.
Introductions were made around the table, but their names barely registered. Dom’s mother shot me a tight smile, while his father awarded me a warm one. He actually asked me how I was enjoying myself so far, and I answered courteously and succinctly.
The first course was served, but I barely tasted it. I didn’t even know what it was other than it had some kind of obscure greens. I watched Dom and Lucy on which fork or spoon to use because, all of a sudden, the formal dinner lessons Bianca had instilled in me went out the window.
The person beside Dom occupied his attention. I had a feeling the man had business he was anxious to discuss with him. I barely heard their conversation, but I detected a hint of annoyance in Dom’s voice. His hand found my thigh under the table and gave it a reassuring squeeze.
“So, it’s Miss Scott, is it?” one of the ladies asked. Her mask was the red one. “What is it you do?”
Dom stilled. I could feel frost ice him over.
“I’m a nurse or will be as soon as I pass the exams.”
The woman appeared baffled, like she couldn’t understand my choice of profession, and when she glanced at Dom, it was like she couldn’t believe that he would bring me to this event. Would it make me more palatable in her eyes if I informed her I attended a Swiss finishing school and jetted to Monte Carlo every weekend?
