Page 135 of Red Masquerade

My only saving grace wasmymask, but I wasn’t sure that would hide me from Marcel. I’d dined with him, long enough he probably knew my scent. He seemed to that afternoon he’d come to the manor, stopping in his tracks.

His grin still sent shivers through me, nothing like the man I’d met that first night at the speakeasy.

But I needed that smile pointed at me tonight. Needed him to think he could have me, just long enough for Vince’s rage to turn deadly.

I shoved my way through the room, the heat of the bodies bringing a dampness under the mask at my eyes. That haze didn’t help, making the room seem smaller than it was. The crowd closing in on me, the air becoming thick.

In the ballroom, deep emerald sheets hung from the ceiling, like the trunks of trees supporting the ceiling. Vines hung from the beams. A few girls twisted through them, their limbs tangled in the sheets, flipping through the air like they were flying. They beamed at the partygoers below them, wearing floral masks, soaring through as though they had wings.

Flora would be delighted.

When all of this was over, after we all had a chance to breathe, I would insist on throwing another party like this. The decorators had turned the house into a faux-forest, a mythical dreamscape that made me want to do nothing but waste the hours away, drunk with Vince under a willow tree.

Just like we used to.

A quick glance up at the balcony revealed no familiar faces, just the masks and costumes of strangers, downing champagne, spilling gin over the railing.

If he saw me before Marcel did, this whole thing would go up in flames.

But a part of me wanted Vince to find me, to turn that beast onto me. I wanted to forget all about the task at hand. I was betraying him—I hadliedto him—and I was putting myself into danger, all to fuel his fury, entrap Marcel, and let go of the beast onto our enemy.

I just needed to get upstairs, where I could pull Marcel into the room Veronica and I had talked about. He must be wandering around. Or he would, soon. And he needed to find me.

He would find me. He had been frenzied for a taste.

It wouldn’t be that hard, it just needed to go according to plan.

I took a deep breath, letting the oxygen settle into my limbs, clearing out all the anxiety in my chest, before I shoved into the crowd of the dancefloor.

There were some revelers that danced, though most were staring at the entertainment, the girls in leotards defying gravity. The sheets ruffled like waves as they skimmed the crowd. The band began to play a popular song, and the crowd shifted, girls pulling their partners to the middle of the floor.

And in the shift, I saw a pair of dark eyes staring right at me.

No.

No.

Not yet—I hadn’t even made it upstairs—He wasn’t supposed tobe here yet—

I shoved against bodies with more strength, ignoring shouts of indignation when I pushed a girl’s drink into her chest.

I needed to get away from the crowd, to lure Marcel elsewhere—

“Miss Helena Quintrell,” his cloying voice came from behind me, sweet saccharine and brandy.

I froze.

Fuck.

There was a lump in my throat as I took another breath to center myself.Okay. It’s fine. Just convince him to follow you.

Did Veronica know he’d come in? Did the others? Were they hunting him down right at this moment?

So much could go wrong.

When I turned to face him, he looked exactly as I expected: impeccably dressed, a pin-stripe suit pressed and ironed, his loose collar a stark white against his skin, though he had discarded his tie somewhere. Dark hair gelled back, his deep irises shining as they took me in. I could feel them creeping down my legs, catching on the curve of my hips, up my chest. Gaze lingering on my throat. Unmasked.

Marcel was a beautiful man, and it was a wonder I hadn’t fallen into his trap when I first met him.