Page 64 of 2 Books in One Bundle

Then the music stopped. Noises still filled the ballroom—glasses clinking, a man laughing a little too loudly, heels clicking on the marble floor. People continued on as if nothing had changed.

The musician opened her eyes. From this distance, he couldn’t discern the color. He watched as she leaned over, acknowledged something another musician said with a small smile. Damon’s event planner took to the stage to announce a fifteen-minute break between the symphony and the next band that would play.

The cellist propped her instrument on a stand and stood. Slight of figure, a little shorter than he’d anticipated but strength evident in the set of her shoulders, the confident tilt of her chin.

Then she looked up. Their gazes collided, held as something electric sizzled between them.

Oh, yes. He should definitely walk away, back into the safety of the crowds and the people who wanted nothing more than a minute of his time or a few millions of his fortune.

But, he thought with a sudden wild abandon, where was the fun in that?

Evolet Grey walked back into the ballroom and, despite her best intentions, found her eyes drifting to the small alcove at the edge of the space. Awareness filled her body as her eyes connected once more with that of the handsome behemoth of a man lounging in a wingback chair. Others might’ve perceived his posture as relaxed, but he reminded her of a predator lying in wait, deceptively calm as he waited for his prey to come closer. A shiver danced down her spine, but God help her, she couldn’t look away.

Her gaze traveled down over his black tuxedo, stark against the white of the chair, and then back up to his face. Notes danced in her head, landing on the imaginary staff lines she’d conjured and creating a brooding, sensual melody for the mystery man in the alcove.

Classically handsome. Dark brown hair worn thick on top and short on the sides. The aloof expression on his square face, coupled with the slight hollows beneath his cheekbones, made him seem cold, distant.

Except for his eyes. A hint of something wild lurked beneath the tightly buttoned-up surface.

That hint of wild did funny things to her insides. Like quicken her heartbeat and make heat pool low in her belly.

Stop.

She looked away, cutting off the naughty direction of her errant thoughts. She made her way over to the bar closest to the stage. It wasn’t every day she got to have a drink in a hotel like the Winchester. The ballroom was a little more modern than she’d prefer, with soaring pillars and floor-to-ceiling windows that overlooked Central Park just across the street. But still, she had to acknowledge, elegantly done up for tonight’s gala. Whoever had planned tonight’s event had money with a capitalM. A dance floor of wood so dark it was almost black dominated the center of the room. White chairs and couches had been clustered around the edges, creating intimate spaces for one to escape to if they needed a breather or a quiet place to conduct business. The walls glowed with blue-and-violet lighting. A minor detail, but it managed to make the space feel intimate even though there were close to five hundred people milling about dressed in their most glamorous clothes.

A woman passed by in a backless red dress with several feet of silk trailing after her. A man walked by with an actual monocle trimmed in what she guessed were real diamonds.

Evolet’s stomach did a nervous roll. This wasn’t her world. Far from it. She hadn’t felt it onstage. There she had been in control, in her element. But out here, among the jewelry and the haute couture clothes and the scent of money thick in the air, she felt like a nobody.

¡Para!

A smile curved her lips as she heard her adoptive mother Constanza’s husky voice in her head. She was every bit loving and supportive but had zero tolerance for self-pity and no patience for those who placed value on money rather than family.

If Constanza were here, she would have arched her razor-thin brow at the silk trailing on the floor, tsked at the waste of good material and then said something like,You’ve earned your place here,mija. Now stop moping and enjoy yourself.

With the much-needed boost to her self-confidence, Evolet continued across the floor. She would have a drink, enjoy a few minutes in the most elegant room she’d ever been in and then go home for a soak in the tub.

And, she thought as her smile spread, perhaps entertain a fantasy or two about the mysterious man who had made her pulse race. She’d learned from the few dates she’d been on since graduating that fantasies—at least when it came to romance—were usually more enjoyable than the actual experience.

She was almost to the bar when a hand gripped her elbow.

“Aren’t you a sight for sore eyes?”

The stench of too much alcohol stung her nose. She started to turn just before an arm slid about her waist and pulled her closer to the offending smell.

“What’s your name? Haven’t seen you at one of these galas before.”

She found herself face-to-face with a bleary-eyed blond man. His leering smile didn’t quite stretch all the way, as if his lips were just as intoxicated as he was and couldn’t hold themselves up.

“I’m with the symphony,” she said in as polite a voice as she could muster. She grabbed his hand and pulled it off her waist while taking a deliberate step back.

“I’ve heard great things about musicians. Very talented hands.” The suggestive lift of his eyebrows made her cringe. “Perhaps after the gala we could find out if they’re true.”

She barely stopped herself from gagging. Wealth obviously didn’t equal class or charm. Her eyes dropped to his hands, one clutched around a martini glass, the other sporting a fancy silver watch and an ornate wedding ring.

She forced a smile onto her face even as disgust rolled in her belly. “I’m fortunate to play alongside some very gifted musicians,” she replied coolly. “Unfortunately, we only perform as a group. I’m not available for private performances.”

He blinked at her, a frown breaking through his intoxication. “I’m not asking for a musical,” he sputtered. “I’m asking for—”

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