Scarlett Red: A Billionaire SEAL Story, Part 2 (In the Shadows) (12 page)

Damn, I enjoyed our banter, and though I can tell she still holds a lot back, we’re not that different. But it’s like she has blinders on. Why doesn’t she look closer? Is she really that afraid of what she’ll discover?

I pull the keys out of the ignition and fist them in my hand. One thing she’ll quickly learn is that I don’t give up whenever I go after what I want. And I
want
her so much I can taste the passion between us already.

I got to truly see her today, and now I’m done letting her refuse to see me.

I
jerk awake at the sound of my phone ringing. Groggily, I stumble in the dark toward my purse on the console table by the door. Flipping on the light switch, I grimace at my rumpled appearance in the decorative wall mirror as I grab my phone.

“Hello?” I say, while finger combing my hair that the chair had completely rat-nested.

“There you are!” Cynthia says, her voice oozing with excitement. “I texted you three times! I wanted to pop by and tell you all about the guy I met earlier today. He’s taking me to dinner in a half hour.”

I give up attempting to fix my hair and move over to my closet to pull out my dress. “I thought you had a business meeting tonight.”

“We finished early. I’m just waiting for my date to pick me up.”

“Ah, I see. You’ll have to tell me all about it tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow? But I have a bottle of champagne and wanted to celebrate with you.”

“Well…” I glance outside and frown at the darkness. The storm must’ve left dark cloud-cover behind. “What time is it?”

“It’s eight-thirty. You’ve got half an hour before the masked ball starts. This could be your pre-party apéritif, as the French would say.”

“Eight-thirty! I’m sorry, Cynthia, but I have to take a rain check on the champagne. I took a nap and overslept. I still need to get a shower.”

“All right, then. We’ll catch up tomorrow, yes?”

I feel bad. I can hear the disappointment in her voice. “Absolutely. And you can tell me all about your hot date.”

“You know I will. Go get on your fancy dress and shoes. You’re going to be the belle of the ball!”

I give a very unladylike snort. “I doubt that. I don’t have double Ds or platinum blonde hair.”

“Make sure your dress shows off some leg, and you’re golden.”

“I’ll miss not having my wing-girl. Have fun, Cynthia.”

“Always. Talk tomorrow.”

Forty-five minutes later, I run my hand along the smooth French twist in my hair and weave the black-jeweled stick deep into the twist to secure it. Using the mirror, I survey the spaghetti straps and low-scooped back that drops all the way past the base of my spine. Even though the dress is black, its clingy material necessitated a pair of barely there, G-string underwear.

As I turn around to inspect the modest scoop neck in the floor length mirror on the door, the thigh-high slit up the right side reveals a lot of leg and a gorgeous, strappy metallic five-inch heel. The sexy shoes are so tall, I had to sit down to buckle the delicate straps at my ankles or risk falling over.

Once I dab on a bit of tinted lip gloss, I check the rest of my makeup. The light line of kohl around my eyes is more than I usually wear, but still understated compared to many of the girls I’ve seen over the past couple of days, including Cynthia. I slide on the gorgeous, glittery black mask the hotel included with the social itinerary they’d provided, then take one last look in the mirror. I finally look presentable.

Grabbing my small metallic clutch purse, I slip my ball invitation and phone inside and head down to the main floor. My stomach flutters as I approach the ballroom. I know it’s ridiculous considering I turned Bash down earlier, but a part of me hopes he might make an appearance tonight.

I’m a half hour late, so the ballroom is packed with three hundred or so impeccably dressed men and women in custom made tuxes and sleek designer gowns. Even the perfumes and colognes smell of rich decadence. The combination is more than I’m used to and a bit dizzying.

“Welcome, Miss Lone.” Patty Hawthorne approaches. Clasping my hand, she beams. “I’m glad you could make it. This is always our most well attended event.

“Thank you, Mrs. Hawthorne.” I touch my mask and smile. “How did you know it was me?”

She pats her perfectly coiffed white hair, her cheeks rounding out with her sweet laugh. “I’m a redhead but went white early. We redheads must stick together, dear.”

“Redheads unite!” I hook my arm in hers and let her escort me toward the dance floor.

Once we reach the outskirts of the dancing crowd, she asks, “Do you have your clues? It was on the back of your invitation.”

I quickly pull out my invitation and turn it over. Three things are typed on it: Red, Black, and Water.

Smiling, she sweeps her hand toward the people dancing. “Okay, the dance will be switching soon.”

“Switching?” I look at her in confusion.

She bobs her head. “For the first couple of hours during the ball, every few minutes you’ll switch dance partners. The clues on your invitation are specific to male guests here at Hawthorne. Two of the clues might match several of the guests, but all three should only match one guest. If you find the male guest who matches all three within the two hours, you don’t have to switch partners any more.

“At that point, you can continue to dance with him, go over to the bar and get a drink together, whatever you like. The goal of this fun event is to try to match-make our guests based on the answers they gave to the survey. And even if you don’t ever find the man who matches all three, you’ll have met several other interesting male guests in the process.”

Survey? Ugh, Aunt Vanessa must’ve filled it out for me
. I can’t even imagine the type of guy I’ll end up with. I force a smile. “That sounds…interesting.”

Mrs. Hawthorne’s eyes twinkle. “I knew you’d love the mystery of it. While you’re chatting with your dance partner, work in those clues. I’m sure a woman with your deductive skills will find your match in no time.”

Glancing around, Patty stops a man with longish, light-brown hair as he’s about to step on the dance floor. “Got your clues memorized?”

When he nods, she tugs him toward me. “Here’s your first partner.”

He grins and takes my arm, guiding me through the crowd. As his hand settles at my waist, I smile and say, “That wasn’t awkward at all.”

Laughing, he pulls me into a dancing position and we begin to move to the music. “I regret that I didn’t get a chance to kiss you the other day, but at least I can dance with you now. Your dress makes the wait worth it.”

“So you like black?” I ask innocently, enjoying Mr. California’s harmless flirting.

He shakes his head. “I prefer red, but with your gorgeous hair, black is the perfect contrast on you. How about you? What’s your favorite food?”

“Actually it’s a spice. Care to guess?”

Just when he starts to answer, the announcer speaks into the mic, “Switch,” and I’m quickly swept into another man’s arms.

I manage to work in all three clues with each of my dance partners for the next forty minutes, but none of the dozen men I danced with had the answers to all three of my clues. Granted, six of them were convinced
I
matched all three of theirs. So much for the accuracy of Patty’s match-making method.

Overall, the men had kept their questions pretty clean. A few tried to get a little too personal with me, but I made sure they saw the engagement ring on my hand. For the most part, I enjoyed the challenge of working the clues into our conversation. Some dance partners made it easier than others, but I felt a little thrill each time I managed to get the answers to all three questions back-to-back.

As soon as the announcer calls, “Switch”, my next dance partner doesn’t approach me straight on the way the others had. Instead, I’m quickly turned around, and before I even get a chance to meet his gaze, he steps into my personal space, pressing his body to mine.

I don’t care that he’s wearing a custom tux worth more than my car. I instantly stiffen and try to pull back, ready to tell him to back-the-hell-off, but I freeze when he splays a hand against my bare lower back and bends close, his voice a smooth husk in my ear. “So we meet again, Miss Scarlett. Or should I say Miss Red? When, in this lifetime, were you going to tell me who you really are?”

Oh God, Sebastian?
Sebastian.
He’s here, of all places? A layer of heat quickly replaces the initial wall of ice that gripped me. My skin instantly flushes in response to his nearness, his solid build, and arousing cologne. Especially where he’s touching my back; my skin is humming. Of course, he would choose now to reappear in my life after I’ve cried myself to sleep saying goodbye to him.
Holy shit!

“Why are you here?” I whisper in a harsh tone as I pull back to stare at his smooth, angular jaw and black mask.

Even as his hand slides higher along my back, pressing my chest to his, he keeps his gaze straight ahead and begins to move us to the music. “I’m here to find my match.” He briefly snaps his gaze to me, his tone lowering. “Though you and I both know the answer to that question.” His outstretched hand constricts around mine, his warmth sending a shiver of excitement down my spine. “Why didn’t you meet me at that coffee shop like we’d planned?”

I grip his hand on my waist as I stare at his tense jaw. “It’s hard to explain. Didn’t you get—” I start to ask if he received the box I gave his sister to give to him, but the metallic feel of a watchband underneath my fingers draws my attention. He’s wearing the watch I’d left in Mina’s safekeeping until he got back to the States. “Your sister told me you were leaving. That you were about to be deployed.”

He grips my waist with both hands as we continue to dance. “You know I’m a SEAL?”

I nod. “Mina told me the next day.”

His hands tighten around me. “You’ve kept in touch with my sister all this time, but you didn’t bother to contact me?”

The low growl in his tone instantly amps my growing edginess. “No, I haven’t kept in touch with her.” But now that he has the watch, he knows that he and I had met back when he’d sneakily slipped that very same watch into the leather coat he’d leant a freaked out thirteen-year-old. “How did you recognize me tonight? When we were together three years ago, my hair was blonde.”

He tilts his head and smirks, running a finger along my jawbone up to the bottom of my mask. “The bottom half of your face is very unique.”

I push his hand away. “No, it’s not, Sebastian. Why are you here?”

He clasps my hand and turns it over, pressing a soft kiss to my palm. “I want you to finally tell me your real name.”

Every nerve ending in my body quivers from the heat of his mouth on my skin. “Why now—”

“And I want that next day and night we never had together.”

I’m so turned on my knees almost buckle. I can’t believe he’s here, staking his claim on me all over again, as if the past three years never happened.

“Switch!” the announcer says over the mic, making me jump. Sebastian turns to the man approaching us on my left, and says in a lethal tone, “Fuck off.”

“That was unnecessary!” I say in a low voice once the guy throws his hands up and walks away, looking for another dance partner.

“Do you think for one minute that any of these men are your true match?” he says smoothly.