Page 2 of Filthy Hot Escort

Skylar took her place next to him, taking her time to surreptitiously look at those around them. The men were in a variety of tuxedos, some in classic black and others in the newest stylish trends with thin lapels and a hint of pattern to the fabric. The women all wore full-length gowns, most in black like Skylar’s gown or in dark jewel tones. The servants were all in white livery and with red masks. The men and women, however . . .

Most wore black masks. Some, though, wore gold.

Next to her, Rex twisted his head to the right, then left, leaving no question he was scanning the room. “Do you see anyone who catches your eye?”

People seemed to move about the ballroom like ghosts. Their eyes in their masks flickered toward Rex and Skylar as their elegant ball gowns floated across the floor or their coattails swayed behind them . . . and then they were gone behind the hanging fabric.

Skylar sat with her spine firmly set, hands clasped lightly in her lap. She knew what he was really asking—if anyone wearing agoldmask had caught her eye. Because that was the way this event worked.

She was supposed to make her choice and seal the deal she’d made with Rex.

But she felt uncharacteristically scattered like a branch adrift in a raging river. She understood business proposals. She’d attended the best business schools in the country, both to get her undergraduate degree and her MBA. She’d studied the art of persuasion and fully understood how to manipulate, entice, and lure in the investor. She’d made her company millions with her business acumen, with her strategies. But this? This made her feel weak. Helpless. Powerless.

She hated it.

But most of all, she hated herself.

2

Rex’s gaze seared into Skylar’s as he waited for her to answer his question— had anyone caught her eye? She glanced around the room, trying to find even more than an attractive appearance, someone interesting. Unique. Someone who stood out. When she came up empty, she sighed.

“It isn’t as if I can see very much,” she said.

“Maybe that’s deliberate. A brilliant business decision that gives our hosts the edge. Someone ugly as sin with a good body can still be a good fuck. But you’d think for the amount of money we paid, they’d give us pictures to peruse beforehand,” Rex complained.

In a way, he was right—the entrance fee to this event had been a staggering five figures, so one would think there should be a more obvious presentation of what their host was offering. But then again, the masks, the location . . . it all served to create a sense of mystery, of fantasy. The man with the unseen face but a stellar body could be the beast in your bed, while the man or woman with fewer muscles could have the face of a God or Goddess. It all depended on what one was looking for.

Skylar, however, felt lost in a sea of hair and bodies—how was she going to make her selection? But then again, did it really matter? The one thing all gold mask wearers had in common, they were reassured, is that they were all experts when it came to sex. So—

“Skylar, it’s not going to happen if you don’t relax,” Rex said before stopping one of the servers. “Two gin martinis; one with lime, one with olives.”

She bit her lower lip, biting back the irritation. She’d wanted champagne tonight.

He turned back to her. “Maybe the booze will take some of your tension away. Remember what the consultant said.”

Heat prickled up her neck and into her cheeks. How could she forget? She wished the feathers of her mask covered her face more and that her dress covered her neck because she knew a blush now stained her face and neck with blotches. Yes, the consultant had suggested an event such as tonight. And yes, Skylar had agreed out of desperation to save her relationship. On paper, tonight seemed to be a logical option for solving their problems, but logic didn’t always translate to correlating emotions.

Because right now, all she wanted was for this night to be over. All she wanted was to have gone back in time and never agreed to this. And above all, what she wanted was to no longer feel pressured by her fiancé. Was she wrong, insisting her inability to come couldn’t be overcome? Or was he who said the opposite?

Either way, the resentment she’d been starting to feel toward her fiancé ever since he eagerly agreed with the consultant that this was a logical choice churned in her chest. She had to look away to keep herself from saying something she’d regret.

Something like, “It’s over.”

The relationship or the quest, though? She wasn’t sure which her mind was pushing her toward. Because she loved Rex. Clearly, she would do almost anything for him— for them.

Or was she just clinging to a love that had long since died? That had evaporated into the ether after one too many instances in which Rex had made her feel less than, and now she was only existing on the phantom emotions of what had been?

These thoughts . . . . These questions . . . She never should have come.

A couple, laughing and leaning heavily on one another, pushed aside a heavy velvet drape as they exited one of the alcoves. At that moment, Skyler glimpsed a man in a golden mask and tux seated on an easy chair. She shouldn’t have been able to make them out so clearly, but his eyes were a bright green that lazily caught hers in a raw and powerful gaze. One beat passed, and he still didn’t look away.

Her breath caught in her throat.

Two beats.

Her heartbeat increased its now rapid pace.

Three beats and—

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