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  When I emerge from the bathroom, there are already guests taking off their coats inside the foyer. Most are wearing masks as the invitation requested, but some are barefaced. I ran the idea of having extra masks on hand by Amanda, but she immediately overruled the idea.

  “You wouldn’t be able to find what we want,” she sniffed.

  I was taken aback, despite the fact that my expression didn’t change.

  “I’m sorry?” was my question. “What do you mean?”

  “What I mean is that Mr. Moore is a billionaire, and his guests are wealthy business magnates as well. The type of mask that they go for wouldn’t be in your party budget. Nor would you be able to locate anything suitable.”

  Wow, that was quite the putdown. But I let it go with a pleasant smile on my face. After all, this was a job, and a well-paying one at that.

  “Of course,” was my pleasant response. “No extra masks, then. Got it.”

  And when the invitees begin to arrive, I see what Amanda meant. The guests are all beautiful, rich-looking people dressed in perfectly cut tuxes and sweeping ballgowns in jewel tones. The women wear five-inch heels, and yet manage to appear elegant and gracious. The men are uniformly tanned, tall, and handsome.

  Who are these people? Or more accurately, who is the mysterious host? I’d done my research on the client, Trent Moore, but there were no definitive conclusions. His name sounded important, but in fact, the man wasn’t born rich. Instead, he dropped out of college ages ago to create his own company, and now he’s a billionaire with money coming out of the wazoo.

  Plus, based on the articles I’ve read, he’s a bit of a bad boy. Less than a year ago, Trent Moore barely avoided an arrest for an altercation at a charity event. The article I saw said that Mr. Moore had brought two beautiful females to the party, and not one. Predictably, the two ladies got into a catfight, and all three were ejected. Wow.

  But there was something more to the story than that because in the accompanying photo, one woman bore a striking resemblance to Trent. They both had the same high forehead, jet-black hair, and sparkling blue eyes. I had a feeling that she was his sister, and that this wasn’t your usual catfight. I’m not sure what the fight was about, but there’s definitely more to it than the usual female hormones gone awry.

  A sound to my right brings me out of my thoughts. A woman wearing a sleek black dress and a beautiful green and white mask is admiring the centerpiece on a table nearby.

  “Do you see the peacock feather?” the woman purrs to her male companion. “What a beautiful idea. It really ties everything together, don’t you think?”

  I smile. I wish Amanda was nearby to hear the compliment about my decor. Oh well. A job well done is a job well done, even if I’m the only one to hear the words of appreciation.

  From my post against a wall, unseen but all-seeing, I watch the party unfold. Guests arrive and remark on the window masks, the centerpieces, and the mansion’s built-in fixtures. Things are going well, so I allow myself to relax for the first time since this job started.

  An hour into the masquerade ball, things are still looking great. Nothing has broken, and there are no spilled drinks or dropped trays. I’ve heard multiple people comment on the food, a menu I created myself. I’m proud to say this party is going exactly as planned. Even Amanda with her perpetually pinched face looked pleased the last time I caught a glimpse of her. I mentally mark that down as a small victory. Impressing the difficult hostess is hard, but I think I’ve managed to succeed.

  Suddenly, a hand grazes my back. I turn, expecting to see one of my employees, but instead, all that greets me is a wall of black. Oh wait. My eyes are level with the broad chest of a tall, masked man. Unlike the other guests who wear disguises that cover just their eyes, his shades his entire face. I can make out a firm, square jaw and intense blue eyes, but nothing else.

  As the music crescendos, the mysterious man gracefully pulls me into a waltz without a single word. My first instinct is to pull away from him. I’m not supposed to be dancing because I’m the help, but he holds me firmly in position. If I try to leave now, it would cause a scene, which would surely make Amanda furious beyond belief. So instead, I float along as his strong arms guide me around the room smoothly and elegantly. My heart’s beating fast, breath coming in shallow inhales. Who is this mysterious stranger?

  We move along with the flow of the music coming from a small orchestra set up in the back of the ballroom. After all, a masquerade ball isn’t complete without string instruments to provide the backdrop for dancing, and Mr. Moore was willing to spring for it. A DJ would play the wrong music and a CD just doesn’t have the same effect. This was probably the only item on which Amanda and I agreed: the music had to be performed live.

  Finally, the long, instrumental song ends, and my mysterious dance partner releases me from his hold. He steps back and takes my hand in his, lifting it to his lips for a gentle kiss while he bows to me. I feel like I should curtsy, but I would only make a fool of myself if I tried. Instead, I smile weakly at him, deciding that doing nothing is better than trying to do something and making a fool out of myself.

  My strange partner stands and straightens his coat when he releases my hand. His eyes meet mine and there’s a familiarity there, but I can’t place where I’ve seen those eyes before.

  Silently, the man lifts his mask, his beautiful, haunting blue eyes gazing unwaveringly at me. His chiseled face and coal-black hair are coupled with a perfectly tailored tux completing his princely look. He looks exactly like the pictures I’ve seen, down to the dimple in his cheek and powerful shoulders. Plus, he looks like he belongs among these lavish surroundings. It is his house and party, after all.

  “Hello,” the man rumbles, keeping his eyes locked on mine. He extends his right hand to shake mine, as if we haven’t already been introduced in the most intimate way. Dancing and a kiss on the hand are romantic and beautiful, whereas a handshake is formal. I reach my hand out to shake his because I’m at a loss for what I’m supposed to do. When I imagined meeting the man, this is not how I expected it to happen.

  “I’m Trent Moore,” he says smoothly. “And you are?”

  Oh, no. What do I say? After all, I’m the help and I wasn’t supposed to be dancing. So do I make up a story, or do I admit the truth? Because this is my fantasy … but if Mr. Moore knows I’m staff, will he expect me to cater to his every need?

  Chapter Two

  Trent

  I’ve stunned the poor girl.

  When I saw this unmasked beauty from across the room, I knew I had to speak with her. She’s the most gorgeous woman at the party and if I didn’t whisk her into a dance, one of my ridiculous friends would have attempted to do so. A woman like this doesn’t belong with one of them. She belongs with me. I can already imagine what her lips will taste like, what she’ll look like when she’s panting beneath me….

  But we can’t get there if we can’t get past this moment. I suppose dancing with her prior to a proper introduction might have been a bit intimidating, but I just couldn’t wait. That curvy form begged to be held, and I wanted to be the one to taste her first.

  I study the brunette’s face as she gathers her thoughts. She doesn’t look familiar, but half of the party is unfamiliar to me even without their masks on. My assistant, Amanda, handled the guest list for this get together, and I’m not sure who she chose as attendees. She’s a great assistant but maybe I need to supervise her a little more. Not that I want to—Amanda tends to go on and on about one thing and another, and I hate to admit it, but her gaze is always so calculating, like she’s trying to count my money behind my back.

  But for now, the beautiful brunette before me captivates my attention.

  “Katie,” my companion finally breathes. “My name is Katie.”

  “Katie,” I test. Her name feels delicious in my mouth. I bet she tastes just like her name. Sweet. “It’s nice to meet you.”

  “You, too,” she murmurs. “I’ve been wo
ndering if our paths would cross.”

  I raise a brow at this. Is she going to ask me to invest in her idea for an app? Is she the daughter of a man who wants me to buy out his business? It wouldn’t be the first time I’ve encountered either situation.

  “Is that so?” I ask smoothly, giving nothing away.

  Katie nods. “I thought maybe I’d make it through the entire party without laying eyes on the man paying me to be here.”

  I take a step back. I don’t hire prostitutes. What the hell is she talking about?

  But maybe I’ve been too judgmental. After all, working girls need to make a living too, and Katie is a beautiful woman with lush curves and a sweet smile. That dress begs to be removed from her body. This prostitution thing complicates things, but it doesn’t change them altogether.

  Katie senses my hesitation and confusion. “You paid for this party,” she clarifies, raising her eyebrows. “I made it happen.”

  Oh. I understand now, and relief floods my body. She’s the party planner, and not some high-priced escort who slipped in hoping to make a score. Okay. Makes sense now. I almost laugh in relief, but manage to restrain myself.

  I clear my voice in an attempt to sweep away my confusion and slight embarrassment. “You’ve done an incredible job, Katie.”

  “Thank you,” she says. “You have a beautiful home. It didn’t take much to make it ready for the party.”

  “Oh, good,” I say. “Everyone I’ve spoken to has complimented the delicious food. They’re devouring the canapes, in fact.”

  She flushes.

  “I’m glad they like it.”

  We’re silent for a beat. Now that I know Katie is my party planner, the complications of sleeping with her slip away. She’s not my employee. She’s not a prostitute. She’s just someone hired temporarily to put together this shindig, and I won’t have to worry about Monday morning awkwardness if I take her to bed. With that in mind, I smile wolfishly.

  “Do you like to dance, Katie?” I ask.

  She laughs, a beautiful melodic lilt.

  “I do not, Mr. Moore.”

  An eyebrow raises.

  “Please, call me Trent.”

  “I do not, Trent.”

  “You seem to have enjoyed it just now,” I say with a smile.

  “I didn’t want to be rude,” Katie responds with a sweet, yet teasing smile.

  “What do you like, then?”

  Katie giggles once again. I could get used to the tinkling sound escaping her lips. “I like a lot of things. Puppies, action movies, going to the beach. What do you like?”

  “I like expanding my business and taking beautiful women to bed with me,” is my direct statement.

  This time, Katie is the one to take a step back as she gasps. My crass words have shocked her, but the scandalized curiosity in her eyes tell me that I haven’t scared her away.

  “It’s a good thing this party is full of beautiful women then,” she remarks saucily, recovering from her shock. “Surely you haven’t slept with all of them?”

  I laugh out loud now, a low rumble coursing through my chest. Katie’s lips turn into a slight, satisfied smile.

  “I haven’t slept with all of them, sweetheart. You’re right about that. Some of them, sure. But not all.”

  “Good to know,” she says with a nod.

  I reach out and take her hand. “Come upstairs with me, Katie.”

  But the beautiful brunette pulls her palm from my grasp.

  “I can’t,” she says with a smile. “I have a party to watch. Unlike you, Mr. Moore, I’m here to work, not have fun.”

  I cock my head at her, trying to gauge precisely what this girl’s game is. Why is it so difficult to get her to join me in bed? It takes only five seconds to convince most ladies.

  “Live a little,” I tell her. “As your client and temporary boss, I’m allowing you to pause work and have some fun.”

  “Who would watch over the party?” she asks, crossing her arms.

  I can’t help but notice her ample cleavage as her arms move. Oh shit, that creaminess makes my cock jerk hungrily, and my eyes flicker back up to her expectant face. I know she’s just going along with this conversation to amuse me, but I’m not one to back down. I scan the room, taking in the whirling guests and the trays laden with food still. Judging from how well it’s going, nothing terrible will happen in our absence. I spy Amanda nearby and motion for her to come closer. The woman brightens for a moment when she sees me, but then her expression freezes when she glimpses Katie at my side. Still, she walks over stiffly.

  “Amanda, I have some business to attend to with our party planner. If anything should happen while we’re away, I’m counting on you to handle it,” I instruct her with a smile.

  Her expression becomes positively icy now.

  “Yes, Mr. Moore, of course,” she bites out. I can tell the words hurt, but hey, I’m not here to hand out party favors. I pay her salary, after all, and expect to get my money’s worth.

  ‘Thank you, Amanda,” I say while pulling Katie away. “Please make sure all the guests are attended to.”

  Once we’re about twenty feet away, I turn back to the beautiful brunette. “There,” I say simply. “Now you have no obligation to babysit.”

  Katie’s eyes flicker with hesitation, but it’s soon replaced with a hesitant smile. She accepts my hand, and I pull her with me toward the huge spiral staircase. Helping her up the smooth steps, it’s only when we’re at the top of the stairs that I kiss this beautiful woman for the first time. And oh shit, but her responsiveness is entrancing. The curvy brunette moans as I slip my tongue between her rosy lips, body instinctively nestling towards me. There’s no time to go slow. My length has been straining against my pants since I first caught a glimpse of Katie standing by herself in my ballroom, and it craves satisfaction desperately.

  Katie’s lips stay attached to mine, my hands tangled in her hair as I guide her backwards down the hall toward the master bedroom. We reach the door and I push her up against it, lifting her legs around my waist. She moans again, grinding her pelvis against mine, lips sucking on mine like they’re air and she’s drowning.

  Without losing momentum, I open the door to my bedroom and bring us inside, kicking it closed behind us. I would have happily taken her against the door in the hallway, but the risk was too high. The last thing I need is some damned photographer to wander into the forbidden upper chambers and snap photos of me emptying my load into a gorgeous woman. The headlines would cause another PR headache that I don’t want to deal with.

  Once inside my room, I throw Katie down on the bed. I lower myself onto the mattress above her and take in her beautiful face, those large breasts, and her impossibly curvy body. She smiles and grabs my shirt, pulling me down and forcing our lips to connect once again. She receives no complaints from me as our tongues intertwine in a wrestling match.

  I feel Katie’s hands fumble with the buttons on my shirt, clearly eager to do away with the excessive layers, but I grow impatient with her slow progress. I need her touch now. With a low growl, I take my shirt tales and rip it open, buttons clattering to the floor. It’s not a problem. I can afford to buy a new one.

  Katie gasps at my sudden lack of clothing. Without the fabric between us, her lips trace hot kisses down my chest. I shiver at her sensual touch all the way down to the v-cut of my lower abs. As much as I’m enjoying her attention, I want to reciprocate. I need to hear her scream for me, to beg for more. Taking her waist, I turn her around before pushing her down onto the bed, face first. She lets out a small shriek, squirming on the soft mattress and bouncing up and down. But I don’t stop. While peppering that smooth, milky neck with kisses, I slide down the zipper of her dress before pulling it from her shoulders and stripping it all the way off. Katie flips back over on her own, making my breath catch in my throat.

  Because this woman is perfect. She’s wearing a lacy black bra that is barely able to contain her giant, heaving breasts. I le
an down and nip on the tops of those creamy curves. She moans with pleasure, pushing my head against her chest. With one hand, I effortlessly unstrap the bra behind her back and slide it off of her body, revealing her erect pink nipples, big and round, ready for me.

  “Fuck baby,” I rasp. “You’re gorgeous.”

  Before she can reply, I take her left nipple in my mouth, sucking on it and running my tongue around the areola. Shit, she’s so hard already, her tips like pebbles. Katie’s hands tangle in my hair, pushing even more of her boob into my mouth.

  “Oh god, Trent,” she moans. “Yes, like that!”

  With one last lick, I turn to her right nipple and give it the same attention, sucking it until it’s enlarged and glistening. Katie is panting below me, and we’ve only just begun. Her hands find my belt buckle and release it. She unbuttons my dress pants and slides them down along with my boxer briefs. My erection bounces to attention now that it has escaped the confines of my pants.

  Now it’s the brunette’s turn to be shocked.

  “Oh my god,” she whispers, eyes wide as they take in my cock. “Oh god.”

  I smirk. “Big, isn’t it?” I lean in and whisper into her ear, voice husky with disuse and desire. “But don’t worry, sweetheart. You’ll stretch for me. You’ll stretch real good, I can tell.”

  Katie’s mouth opens and closes silently a few times as she continues to stare. But then the girl gets a hold of herself and takes a deep breath before spitting into her hand and sliding it up and down my length. My cock gets harder, if that’s even possible, and I let out a roar of shock and pleasure. Oh shit. Where’d she learn to do this? It feels so fucking amazing, and my hips twist beneath her ministrations, desperate to get into that velvet pussy.

  But Katie’s not done yet, not even close. Pressing a kiss to my stomach, she works her lips and tongue down my torso until she reaches my groin. And then she goes for it. Smiling seductively up at me, Katie takes one of my balls into her mouth and sucks a little before popping it out, and then doing the same with the other. My head grinds back into the pillow, groin lifted up toward her face, hungry for more.