“Thank you.”
“Welcome, ma’am. Want me to get that door for you?” He tipped his hat back and rubbed his nose.
Emma shook her head. “I can manage. Have a good night.”
“You too. Drive safe.”
She waited until the driver pulled away before she climbed into her car and started it. She drove toward home, glad she wasn’t far away. She couldn’t wait to peel out of this dress and mask and crawl into bed.
Emma stifled her still-sullen hormones, which were quick to point out that she could have been out of the dress and curled up in bed beside an equally naked Josh Owens already, if she had just stuck around at the ball. That was not going to happen. Not tonight, not ever. In fact, aside from the post-party follow up, she’d most likely never see the handsome producer again.
She unlocked her front door and slipped inside her quiet apartment, studiously ignoring the pang that shot through her at the idea of never seeing Josh again. She immediately took off her shoes, sighing in relief at the touch of cool tile against her aching feet. But thoughts of her feet reminded her of dancing with Josh, flirting with him. It had been fun. In her masquerade persona, she didn’t need to walk on eggshells around him, constantly concerned about his position as a wealthy client. She’d been able to let down her guard.
That’s the way it had always been, oddly enough. Emma was never more herself than when she was pretending to be someone else. She chuckled at the absurdity of it and glanced into the living room. No Todd on the couch. He must still be asleep in her bed. Great. Now, she’d have to fight for space, too.
She tiptoed into her room, setting the purse containing the rescued watch on her bedside table. Tomorrow, she’d see about putting it somewhere safe. She wasn’t about to risk letting it fall right back into her reckless brother’s hands. But, crazy mad schemer or not, she loved Todd. She smiled down at him. He looked so innocent, sleeping with his lips parted in a soft snore. She brushed his hair back from his forehead and dropped a quick kiss there.
“We did it, T-rex,” she whispered.
“I thought you’d be in a better mood.” Ben put his feet up on Josh’s desk, his legs crossed at the ankles. He puffed on his cigar, brows raised. “Your ball was a huge success. The people at Children of Hope are going to name a building after you once they see how much you took in. Even after you pay for the party, it’s still going to be, what, something like 7 million in donations?”
Josh stared morosely at the expensive Cuban in his hand, not even tasting the rich tobacco. “They’ll get the whole 7.6 million.”
Ben shook his head and blew a lazy smoke ring. “Paying for the party out of your own pocket? You’re a hell of a guy, Owens. And Ransler’s going to figure that out when you meet with him. Which, I might remind you, was the whole point of holding the ball.”
“I know.” Josh puffed on the cigar, staring up at the smoke undulating against his office ceiling. Ben was right. He’d gotten his meeting with William Ransler. He was one step closer to securing the project he’d been working on for the better part of two years. He should be doing a damn jig.
“So, why aren’t you enjoying this mighty fine cigar and delicious glass of brandy with your best friend? Why is there no cat-that-got-the-canary grin on your handsome Hollywood face? Why am I celebrating
alone
, man?” Ben swung his feet down, his heels thunking on the floor.
Josh’s eyes dropped to his best friend. Ben was leaning forward, elbows on his knees as he studied Josh’s face. Josh wondered what he was saw. His face felt rather numb and stiff, like he’d been out in the cold too long. He wasn’t entirely sure what, if any, expression he had on it.
“What happened last night, man?” Ben asked, his brow furrowed. “You disappeared halfway through the ball, looking for some mystery woman in a butterfly mask, and when you turned back up you looked like someone just broke your Boba Fett figurine.”
That surprised a chuckle out of Josh. “Hey, that figure was a collector’s item! If I still had it, undamaged, today it would be worth a nice chunk of change.”
Ben sipped his brandy, the corners of his mouth turning down. “You’re not answering my question, man.”
Josh didn’t want to answer it. He didn’t want to think about the playful, sensuous, mysterious Madame Butterfly at all. Sharp disappointment still cut at him. He had practically danced back into his bedroom last night, a bottle of cold champagne in one hand and a bowl of strawberries in the other. Strawberries, because when he’d seen them in the kitchen, he’d imagined eating them off the creamy table of her flesh, licking away the trickle of juices. He couldn’t resist snatching them off the counter and bringing them with him. He threw open the door, his heart spinning like a top in anticipation, his eyes flying to the bed.
Throughout his ten-minute journey to the kitchen, he had been picturing her lithe, golden body sprawled on his sheets wearing nothing but her mask and those dangerously spiked heels. The image was so strong in his mind that, for a moment, he
did
see her, just like that. His heart slammed against his ribs and he was hard as a rock in an instant. Then he blinked. He stood there stupidly, staring around the empty room, until his arms grew tired of holding the champagne and strawberries.
Then, he set them down on top of his dresser and began to hunt. He searched the room, as if she’d be hiding in the closet or under the bed. Hot anger burned the back of his throat at the thought. He’d checked under the damn bed like an idiot. But she’d been gone, no explanation, no sign that she’d ever even existed.
If his life were a movie, she would have left something behind: an earring, a locket, or even a shoe, like Cinderella fleeing the ball. Something he could turn over in his hands, stare at whenever the memory of her seemed like a dream. Something he could use to find her again. But there was nothing tangible except for memories: the feel of her skin beneath his palms, the taste of her lips, the scent of her hair. That’s all she’d left him. That and a sense of frustration and loss.
He shook his head at Ben. “I found her. The mystery woman. And then . . . she left.”
“Ah.” Ben leaned back in the chair. His lips twitched, and he cocked a brow in surprised amusement. “Like that, is it? She’s the reason you’re moping instead of celebrating.”
Josh sipped his brandy and then sucked in a long breath as it spread warmth throughout his chest. It did nothing to melt the ball of ice there, though. “Something like that.” He couldn’t explain it to his friend, because he didn’t really understand it himself. All he knew was that when she kissed him, he felt as if she’d lit him on fire. Now, he felt like ashes.
Ben toasted him with his snifter. “Well, why don’t you just look her up?”
He’d thought about it. The second he’d realized she really was not in the bedroom, he’d searched the hall. He’d woven his way through the crowds in the ballroom, ignoring a lot of shouted greetings and claps on the back. Downstairs, he’d circled through every game room, the dining room and the conservatory twice. She hadn’t been anywhere in the house. He didn’t know her name, or even what she looked like beneath her mask. There was nowhere to start looking. She hadn’t left behind a single clue to her identity.
“She doesn’t want to be found, Ben.” Josh spun his chair around so his friend couldn’t see the expression on his face. He was worried it would reveal just how much that bothered him. Apart from the attraction and the incendiary chemistry between them, he’d thought she genuinely liked him. At least, it had seemed that way.
He heard the clink of crystal and the glug of liquid as Ben poured himself some more brandy. Ben’s chair creaked as he shifted and sighed. “Is that going to stop you looking?”
Josh opened his mouth to reply, to tell his friend to lay off, that he didn’t want to talk about her anymore, when the door to his curio cabinet caught his eye. The
open
door to his curio cabinet. Josh narrowed his eyes, leaning in closer. It was only cracked the slightest bit, but it was open. He knew he’d left it closed. And locked.
Just before the ball last night, he’d returned the watch to its place on the shelf because the weight of it in his pocket made his tuxedo pants sag. He’d closed the cabinet door and locked it but hadn’t bothered to take the key with him, since the room itself would be locked. The key was in the lock, right where he’d left it. The watch, however, was gone. The small stand of polished wood on which it had rested was tipped over.
The hallway door had still been locked. He’d had to unlock it this afternoon to let Ben in. There was only one other door to get in here, and only one person who would have had access to that door. Josh felt a brief stab of anger. Is that what prompted her teasing seduction? His hand clenched around the snifter. But, no. Perhaps he was only being vain, but Josh refused to believe it had all been an act. She’d wanted him every bit as much as he’d wanted her. He was sure of it.
Still, there was no way this was a coincidence. Madame Butterfly had lured him into his bedroom and then sent him for that blasted champagne so that she could break into his office. So she could get his
watch
. Well, he thought of it as his. But he’d won it in a poker game not long ago. He remembered the grinning, jittery young man who’d lost the watch. He’d been new to the game: naive and overconfident. He’d gone nuclear when Josh had turned over his cards. Several of the guys had had to escort him out of the house while he yelled about how he ‘couldn’t lose that watch’. And now it was missing. Josh chuckled quietly. It looked like his mystery woman had left him a clue after all.
He spun his chair back around, a grin stretching his cheeks. Ben’s heavy brows crawled up his forehead as he took in Josh’s new expression. Josh leaned back in his chair, puffing the cigar, finally able to enjoy the rich, heady taste of the premium tobacco.
“No, Ben. It’s not going to stop me looking at all. Not at all,” he replied with relish. He toasted Ben, raising the glass of brandy to his lips. The warm, mellow explosion of flavor that bloomed on his tongue and slid down his throat tasted a thousand times better than it had just moments ago. And the heat in his chest and belly became the fire of excitement again. “My friend, I’ve got a job for you.”
I’d like to thank you for taking the time to read my very first story :)
I hope you’ve thoroughly enjoyed reading it as much as I’ve enjoyed writing it.
I welcome any suggestions, questions or just a general chat. You can contact me direct at my personal email address:
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~ Mora x ~