. “Indiscreet?”
“Oh yes, he told me everything,” I tease.
Christian tenses. “Well, in that case, I’ll get your bag.
I’m sure you want nothing more to do with me,” he says
softly.
I stop. “He didn’t tell me anything!” My voice fills with
panic.
Christian blinks before relief floods his face. He pulls
me into his arms again. “Then let’s enjoy this dance.” He
beams down, reassuring me, then spins me round.
Why would he think that I’d want to lea一ve? It makes
no sense.
We dance for two more numbers, and I realize I need
the restroom.
“I won’t be long.”
As I make my way to the powder room, I remember I
ha一ve left my purse on the dinner table, so I head down to
the marquee. When I enter, it’s still lit but quite deserted,
except for a couple at the other end, who really ought to
get a room! I reach for my bag.
“Anastasia?”
“Anastasia?”
A soft voice startles me, and I turn to see a woman
dressed in a long, tight, black velvet gown. Her mask is
unique. It covers her face to her nose but also covers her
hair. It’s stunning with elaborate gold filigree.
“I’m so glad you’re on your own,” she says softly.
“I’ve been wanting to talk to you all evening.”
“I’m sorry, I don’t know who you are.”
She pulls the mask from her face and releases her hair.
Shit! It’s Mrs. Robinson.
“I’m sorry, I startled you.”
I gape at her. Holy cow—what the fuck does this
woman want?
I don’t know what the social conventions are for
meeting known molesters of children. She’s smiling
sweetly and gesturing for me to sit at the table. And
because I am lacking any sphere of reference, I do as she
asks out of stunned politeness, grateful that I am still
wearing my mask.
“I’ll be brief, Anastasia. I know what you think of
me . . . Christian’s told me.”
I gaze at her impassively, giving nothing away, but I’m
pleased that she knows. It sa一ves me telling her, and she’s
cutting to the chase. Part of me is beyond intrigued as to
what she could ha一ve to say.
She pauses, glancing over my shoulder. “Taylor’s
watching
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