Page 152 of Cruel Delights

Dressing up has never been my thing—definitely not for these kind of events—but looking in the mirror, I’m aware Ignazio will be pleased.

He lets me know the moment he sees me. His eyes light up and he cuts through the mingling crowd to reach me.

“Perfect, you’re here,” he says amid the loud din of conversation. His hand touches the small of my back as he guides me toward a silver-haired man in a suit and shirt that’s halfway unbuttoned. “Mr. Andressi has been waiting to meet theprincipessaof the show. He’s very impressed with you.”

I turn what’s an involuntary cringe into a fake smile as Ignazio brings me up to the silver-haired man known as Mr. Andressi. He sports a Rolex and goatee that’s as silver as his hair up top. His eyes flash with delight at the sight of me.

“Nevaeh West. You are even more stunning in person than on stage,” he says, taking my hand for a kiss hello to the back of it.

I blink at him, thrown by the forward greeting. “Err, thank you. I appreciate you supporting our company.”

His top lip curls. “Of course. I have always been a big supporter of the arts.”

I look over to find Ignazio gone. He’s already wandered off to introduce another dancer to one of our fans—there’s a whole sea of wealthy men in various different expensive suits waiting.

The next hour becomes torture. Mr. Andressi pulls out my chair at our table and then proceeds to talk about only himself in excruciating detail. That’s when he’s not making a snide remark that I’ve eaten too much for his liking.

A sigh leaves me as I remain polite and agreeable, though my teeth clench. The remaining food I push around my plate with my fork, watching the clock with wishes for the night to be over.

“Excuse me,” I say, pushing back my chair. “I need to use the ladies room.”

Mr. Andressi opens his mouth as if to protest. I’m scurrying off before he can.

I’m quick and nimble by nature, which comes in handy during situations like these. As the crowded dining room mingles, I’m able to slip in and out unnoticed. My ankle and the heels I’m wearing slow me down, but I’m still fast enough to escape the dining room without anyone stopping me.

For half a second, I consider making a break for it. I could probably make it off the entire property unseen.

…but then what? What happens when Ignazio finds out?

Another shudder vibrates through me. I do as I said I would—I head for the women’s restroom.

Within footsteps I realize I’m not alone after all. I cross the sparkling atrium with the distinct feeling eyes are on me. An unsettling presence looms close by. Slowing down as I glance around, it suddenly feels like I’m being hunted.

Even with the distant sounds of conversation in the dining room, I feel like I’ve been left alone to be preyed on. By what, bywho, I have no clue.

Until I look across the generous open space and spot the man watching me.

A man I’ve never seen in my life. A man that’s the stuff of nightmares… and dark fantasies.

Deep-set eyes that are wolfish and predatory in nature and a head of wavy hair pushed behind his ears. Skin that’s been naturally tanned from hours in the sun and tattoos that come up to his neck and cover what little of his large hands I can see. He’s the kind of man you take notice of the instant he walks into a room, tall, striking and with a muscled body even his suit can’t hide.

His mere presence renders me speechless and makes nerves flutter in my stomach. I blink and then cautiously take another step toward the restroom.

He mirrors my move. One of my steps is matched by one of his.

Then another, and another. He takes several more until he’s blocking my path altogether. He peers down at me like he knows me—he knows every damn thing there is to know about me—and a cold shiver crawls up my spine.

“Hello, ballerina,” he says in a husky voice that bears a hint of an Italian accent. “I’ve been dreaming of you.”