One
Astrid
This was it. The big moment was finally here, and I could hardly breathe from the excitement. And nerves.
I'd spent months planning and preparing, mentally and physically. I'd primped and pampered—andnotdieted like I used to do before any big event—designed and made my own dress, and more importantly an elaborate mask that would completely hide my identity.
After taking a page from my sister who'd recently disguised herself with a different hair color, I'd done the same, changing from deep brunette to a lighter toffee shade. I'd even worn contacts to mask my usual brown eyes. Not that the normal color was very spectacular or memorable. But the violet shade was simply another spoke in the wheel of my disguise.
Despite all that, I still wasn't quite prepared. Or at least the hammering of my heart told me otherwise.
After all, how could one truly be ready for a night of debauchery? Or hopeful debauchery.
Walking into the grand ballroom—ignoring the mortifying fact that I'd tripped on my way in—it felt like I'd stepped inside an enchanted snow globe, glittering chandeliers cascading their lights from the vaulted ceilings, candles shimmering from every surface, and somehow...
I glanced up, trying my hardest to figure it out. Was that even real?
Snowflakes drifted down from high above, magically disappearing above our heads. Adjusting my mask, I gave up on trying to figure out the illusion, deciding to ask my party planner sister later how they'd done that.
Taking a steadying breath, I glanced around at all the pretty people. The Midnight Masquerade Ball. All the attendees had truly lived up to the hype, the women wearing stunning gowns while the men donned classic tuxes, everyone's identities artfully hidden behind beautiful, elaborate masks.
There was magic in the air. Anything could happen tonight.
My heels clicked softly on the marble floor as I stepped farther inside, the elegant sounds of a string quartet drifting toward me. Servers with trays of champagne glided through the room, and I hoped one would pass by me soon.
A few people looked my way as I passed, one woman's eyes widening as she took in my midnight blue dress. Was that good or bad?
Her glance traveled down the tightly fitted bodice that showed off my best feature—hello, boobs—then transformed into soft waves falling to the floor, tiny constellations of sequins dotting the fabric, hopefully catching the light whenever I moved.
Holding my breath, wondering what she thought of the design I'd spent months dreaming about, her eyes finally met mine, and she smiled, a genuine smile, then whispered the word, "Beautiful."
I heaved a happy sigh, smiling back at her, giddy excitement flooding my soul. It was one thing for my sisters and the people I worked with to like my dress, because of course they would say that. But the true test was what strangers thought. And it appeared I had more than surpassed that little hurdle.
A tray of bubbling crystal flutes appeared in front of me, and I gratefully took one, thanking the waitress. Really, it would have been nice to grab two, but well, etiquette prevented me from doing so. After all, being the youngest Stratton sibling, proper manners had been drilled into me from infancy, and I'd been nothing but nice for as long as I could remember.
But tonight? Sure, I'd still be my kind, polite self. However—and this was a big, huge, the largest ever however—by the end of the night, I was determined to get down and dirty. And sweaty. And maybe covered in... no, no, no. I couldn't voice the word, even to myself.
I was no virgin. But it'd been ages since I'd had sex. Years to be honest. Since a few drunken hook-ups in college that had been less than underwhelming. Which sounds impossible. But if you counted the guy finishing in two seconds flat before I'd even had a chance to get into it, well, that pretty much summed up my extremely disappointing experiences.
Tonight, under the protection of anonymity and with no strings, I hoped to rectify that and see if I—Astrid Stratton—could have just one night of bliss between the sheets that could erase my embarrassing, pathetic past sex life.
And if so, then I could finally move on and maybe, just maybe, find what my sisters had both recently found... real, actual love that made them glow with happiness.
Sipping my champagne, not downing it like I wanted to, I stood off to one side, studying my possible conquests. Starting on my left, I scrutinized every single person, noting that not one male was alone. People were already paired up. Of course they were. Wouldn't most people come here tonight with their significant other? Or at least a date?
I was obviously the only loser to even think of coming alone.
Stop being so hard on yourself. It was a simple mistake.
Maybe what I really needed was one of those anonymous sex clubs that I'd heard whispers of throughout the years. I'd clearly misjudged this evening. And that was okay. I still had a beautiful gown, one that I might make the centerpiece of my next collection.
My gaze still roaming the room, I spotted more and more couples, then a few small clusters of people that when I looked closer contained... guess what? A group of couples. Here a couple. There a couple. Everywhere a couple, couple.
Draining the last of my champagne right when another server stopped by, I traded my empty glass for another full of bubbles, smiling to myself at the silly song I had in my head.
And that's when I spotted him. Across the room, a tall, very tall, man was staring right at me, his perfectly fitted tux hugging what was obviously a muscular frame, his hair dark, his eyes dark, the mask obscuring what had to be a spectacularly handsome face.
Holy crap. While I'd been watching people, had this man been watchingme?
