Page 112 of Finally Forever
“We’ll take a quick stroll and then play merry-go-round after.” She winks and takes my hand, dragging me across the street to the park. I can indulge in this and indulge in her later. Who’d have thought a pregnancy could be so much fun?
37
Ainsley
Tonight, Sebastian and I are playing a game I made up. Find me at the ball and I’ll grant you one wish.
The fashion show ended half an hour ago. I left with Lowell to change into my costume, an off-the-shoulder red satin ball gown with satin roses that line the top of the bodice. Sebastian hasn’t seen it or my mask. I haven’t seen his mask either, just his tux. I wore a slinky gold gown with a plunging back to the show. Sebastian could barely keep his hands off me.
I loved it.
Now, I’m inside the ball, waiting to find him or for him to find me. I push the red lace mask up my nose a little. Will he recognize me? My hair has been shaped into apouf, the golden strands doused with white, giving it a Marie Antionette style. I’m not the only one with this look. It was a theme at the fashion show as well.
I glance to my left, where Luc and Lowell chat with a couple I don’t know. I met several people at the event, Sebastian did too, and I could tell it made him extremely nervous. I felt the same. Maybe we need to slow down a little and ease our way back into society.
“Champagne?” a waiter says in French and offers a glass from a tray.
I politely decline.
A man in a tux, they’re all in tuxes, walks by, his gaze on my cleavage, which is spilling from the dress. I swear my boobs are bigger.
“Magnifique.” He winks behind his mask.
I’m certain he was referring to my breasts, given his gaze never strayed from them. I’m not used to attention from strangers.
I meander through the crowd, carefully eyeing every man in a tux with slightly wavy, grown-out dark hair. The problem is, that hairstyle seems fairly common in Paris. At least with this bunch.
Too broad. Too short. Too stocky. Are those highlights?
I clear one side of the room and move to the other, nervous heat trailing up my neck. Where is he?
He’d gone back to the hotel to call Francesca again, having not been able to reach her earlier. I hope nothing went wrong.
I touch the satin bag on my wrist that’s holding my phone. Should I text him?
A man walks by, his arm brushing my shoulder. The venue, although large and elaborately decorated—a mix ofPhantom Of The Operaand a Shakespeare fairy tale—is crowded.
I’m surprised no one has dropped a tray of drinks or hors d’oeuvres. I circle a group of women dressed identical to Marie Antoinette, complete with white faces and birds nesting in their hair. Wigs.
I chase after a man who could be Sebastian. A few steps from him, a woman in a black sparkling gown greets him with a kiss. I halt and turn, my dress swishing and twirling with the fast motion.
Another man—the same one?—brushes my arm again as he passes me. I’m no stranger to being bumped into. Being petite is like being invisible sometimes, but in these heels, I’m at least five-seven. Hardly petite. And this dress has a crinoline that makes it very full.
Another man, matching Sebastian’s build and hair, catches my gaze. I hurry to him, careful not to trip over my hem. Dark eyes surrounded by a sage green and gold mask meet mine from several feet away. The man smirks. Sebastian?
A couple cut in front of me, slowing my pace. I swerve around them and continue to where I’d seen Sebastian. He’s no longer there. Gaze swinging left and right, I scan the area in search of him. There. He rounds a large group of people talking.
I go after him, frustration and anticipation drawing heat to my skin and other places. I reach the group and circle them. A glimpse of the man in the sage green mask has me headed for the row of windows set back in alcoves, each draped with red velvet curtains.
There aren’t as many people over here, probably because the buffet table and music are on the other side of the venue. Boisterous laughter breaks out across the room, drawing my gaze to a circle of people. A few are stripped of their masks. When I bring my gaze back, a couple making out in a dark corner have me staring for a bit too long.
Not because the man looks like Sebastian, but because of the way his hand trails up the high slit of the woman’s silver dress. Not-pregnant me would thinkget a room. Pregnant me is filled with a rush of desire.
I need to find Sebastian ASAP. And now I’ve lost sight of him. I tug at the tight bodice, trying to let in air to my heated skin as I trail the wall of windows, hoping to spot him again.
When I pass the middle alcove, a hand catches my waist and drags me behind the curtains.
A squeal rips from my throat as my back is drawn against a hard chest. I freeze, with part shock and part confusion. The act happened so quickly. My mind searches for what to do. Scream? Fight to get away? Tear down a curtain?
