One Midnight Kiss: A Billionaire Fake Fiancée Holiday Romance
One Midnight Kiss: Chapter 1

What the hell?

I adjusted the black mask covering the upper half of my face, feeling like I’d wandered into a nineteenth-century fever dream when I stepped into the grand hall of the ancient Parisian manor. It was just past ten, but the Epice de Vie Ball was already in full swing. A hundred masked faces swirled under the sultry lighting, which washed everything in shades of red and gold.

A little voice in the back of my head whispered at me. Run.

This was some weird shit, and I wasn’t sure I wanted anything to do with it. I knew the rich and famous were rumored to get a little freaky, but honestly, where was the line between too much velvet and just enough? This place oozed opulence and indulgence of the likes I’d never seen, and opulence was my bread and butter.

But I was intrigued.

“Curiosity killed the cat,” I muttered under my breath and took another step deeper into the room. “But it died happy.”

When the invitation to the ball had landed on my desk a week before Christmas, I’d laughed. It looked like the kind of thing you’d find in a Dan Brown novel, with ornate gold script on thick cream paper and the words Epice de Vie embossed in the center. At first, I’d thought it was a joke. Some weird prank or an invite to join the illuminati, the lizard people, or whatever secret society was the flavor of the month.

Then I’d considered the possibility of it being an invitation to a high-end sex club, which wouldn’t have been out of the realm of possibility given my reputation back in the Pacific Northwest. In my circle of millionaires and billionaires, it wasn’t all that far-fetched. I had certainly heard of some wild parties and been to a few myself. Nothing distasteful but definitely wild.

I’d decided to throw caution to the wind and check it out. I would have been left wondering what I’d missed if I didn’t go. So, I RSVPed.

And now, here I was.

I moved through the room, my black-on-black suit blending in with the dark tones of the decor. Black seemed like a dominant color in the room, although plenty of the women were wearing jewel-toned dresses that made them stick out. Everywhere I looked, there were masks and extravagant outfits featuring feathers, lace, and velvet. I had never seen so much jewelry. It felt like an advertisement for Tiffany’s.

I looked at the masked faces, but all I could see were lips and eyes. Not even the whole eye. It was impossible to tell if I knew anyone here and I liked it that way. It gave me a strange sense of freedom—a break from the recognition I’d grown used to in Silicon Valley.

I’d done my homework before coming, of course. I dug into the event as deeply as I could, stretching my tech muscles and tapping into the fleet of barely twenty-year-old software geniuses who worked for me. We had found nothing about the host of the party.

We’d located a shell company with its fingers in various industries but no names. No guest list. No photos. It was like the party didn’t exist outside of this manor tonight. The only people that knew about the party got one of the invitations. That meant big names were here, hiding behind the secrecy of their masks. I imagined I was in a room full of celebrities, CEOs, and the uber elite. These were the kinds of people whose faces usually graced the covers of magazines. People who were among the richest people in the world.

People like me.

I smiled thinking about the others in this room. Did they know me? Did anyone recognize me? This could be fun. A lot of fun.

Although the last thing I wanted to do was fuck around with a married woman and end up making a powerful enemy. I was going to have to be careful that my fun didn’t cross any lines.

I made my way to the bar, excited to see what they were going to be serving. With a crowd like this, they would be serving top shelf stuff.

A couple heads turned as I approached, but I ignored their hidden faces. The bartender also wore a mask but not much else. In a skimpy scrap of lace lingerie, the woman’s curvy body was on full display. I ordered a whiskey, neat, and leaned against the polished wood counter, taking in the room.

The rule about no phones had annoyed me. Imagine my surprise when I showed up at the door and was asked to hand over my cell. It was a red flag, but it also gave me a level of comfort.

Whatever happened in this room tonight would stay in this room.

But I would have loved to text Jerrod and Wilder right then. I wanted to tell them about this place. And I kind of wanted them to know where I was just in case this party was some kind of thing I didn’t get to walk away from. They would think I was crazy for being here.

The party had a sexy, secretive vibe that reached into the marrow of my bones. It made me want to find a willing partner and take them back to my swanky hotel room overlooking the Seine. I wanted to fuck while wearing our masks and not knowing each other’s names.

The crowd moved in waves as hauntingly beautiful music filled the hall. Violins, cellos, and piano blended together along with instruments I couldn’t identify. It was sultry and sexy and felt like someone was running a feather over my skin.

I swirled the whiskey in my glass before taking a slow sip. Watching the room, I soaked up every piece of information available. I watched how certain masked men glanced at specific women and couples that hugged each other just a touch too tightly while talking to others. Who knew who? Who had premeditated meeting here under the mystery of the ball itself? Who was using the glitz and glamor to camouflage secret affairs?

There was a sickly sweet smell in the room. A combination of expensive perfume, liquor, and maybe arousal. Like a rush of pheromones. It was intoxicating, a sensory overload that had me feeling relaxed yet wired at the same time. I took another sip, feeling the smooth warmth of the liquor slide down my throat.

The bar area started to feel stuffy, crowded with masked faces. I downed the rest of my drink and pushed off the counter, heading for the staircase at the far end of the room. Upstairs had to be quieter, away from the noise and the haze of cigar smoke and potent perfume.

I stepped onto the landing and immediately noticed a shift. The energy up there was different—calmer, but charged, like the air before a thunderstorm. Several rooms had their doors open, revealing intimate spaces filled with clusters of people deep in conversation. I was afraid to look too closely. This felt like it might be the kind of party where some freaky shit happened in those out of the way spaces.

I bypassed them all, drawn instead to a parlor with its double doors open to a sweeping balcony. The city lights twinkled in the distance and the Eiffel Tower stood tall against the night sky like a beacon. I was drawn to the beauty.

The second I stepped onto the balcony, I froze.

A woman stood with her back to me, gazing out at the view of the city beyond. It was a magnificent sight, but nothing in comparison to my view of her, dressed in a black gown that clung to her body in all the right ways. Cinched at her waist, it accentuated her curves. My vision locked on her full, perky ass. The back of her dress dipped low, revealing a stretch of smooth skin and the posture of either a ballerina or a queen.

One hand rested on the railing and the other held a glass of red wine. She wore silky black gloves that stretched above her elbows. Whoever she was, her picture belonged beneath the word “elegance” in the dictionary. Or “sexy.” Or “mine.”

She turned, giving me her side profile. Her black mask, glittering with a million tiny crystals, glittered like the Eiffel Tower behind her. Beneath the mask lay a cute upturned nose and full, deep red lips. Her dark brown hair was pulled back into a sleek updo, exposing an elegant neck that begged to be sucked on. The light caught the diamond earrings dangling from her ears.

I had never felt more like a vampire than I did in that moment. I wanted to sink my teeth into her neck and hear her gasp in pain and pleasure, pliant beneath me.

I was frozen in the doorway, staring like an idiot. Compared to the frilly ballgowns and pageantry of the other guests, she was a shadow. A beautiful, haunting shadow like the angel of death incarnate.

I had to speak to her. Words escaped me but that wouldn’t stop me. I needed to be in her orbit.

Finally, I stepped forward, clearing my throat. She turned fully then, facing me. Her cornflower blue eyes met mine through the slits of her mask and I felt the ground tilt beneath my feet.

If I passed out in front of her, at least I was wearing a mask.

I was rarely at a loss for words, and no woman had ever made my head spin. Maybe she had cast a spell on me. I smiled at her, wondering if she was as enchanted as I was.

“Oh good,” she said. “Finally, a waiter.”

My ego deflated a bit. Women tended to swoon when I flashed them my smile, but she wasn’t impressed at all. It wasn’t too surprising. A woman like her required more effort than a grin and broad shoulders. I was up for the challenge, though.

“I’m not a waiter,” I said. “But for you, I can be anything you want.”

She smiled. “I’d like a waiter.”

“What do you want to drink? I’ll get it for you on one condition.”

“Why would I need conditions?” Her head tilted slightly, one earring dipping toward her shoulder. “I can go get a drink myself.”

I stepped forward. “Because I think you want me to get you a drink.”

“Fine, I would like a glass of the finest Cabernet Sauvignon, if you please. But don’t expect a tip.”

Filled with excitement, I made my way back into the bustling party, leaving her on the balcony overlooking the beautiful city. The clinking of glasses and the hum of conversation filled my ears again as I pushed through a sea of masked faces toward the bar. I wondered if she would still be there when I returned. I didn’t want to play games unless there was a chance of winning. With her as my prize, I was willing to try.

I took the glass of wine and my glass of whiskey and practically hurdled people in my rush to get back to the balcony. Heat filled me when I saw she was still there.

“Are you old enough to drink?” I asked as I handed her the glass.

“We’re in Paris.”

“Yes, and? How old are you?” I didn’t want to find myself embroiled in a scandal.

“I thought the whole point of this night was to be anonymous,” she said with a smile before she parted her red lips to purse them to the edge of her wine glass. Her blue gaze remained entwined with my own stare as she took a delicate sip.

“What’s your name?” I asked.

She slowly shook her head. “You really don’t understand anonymity, do you?”

“Okay. You’re American?”

“I am,” she confirmed.

“What do you do for a living?” I asked, searching for any little crack in her defenses.

I could tell by her outfit and those earrings she had money. She carried herself like she was wealthy. Whether that was from her work, inherited from a rich daddy, or through marriage remained to be seen. If only she hadn’t been wearing those long black gloves, I might have been able to see if she wore a ring on her left hand.

“I think you’re at the wrong party,” she said. “Tonight is about masks and mystery.”

“I like to know what I’m getting into,” I said. “I like being in control.”

“I bet you do,” she said, eyeing me up and down. “But sometimes, letting go of control can be a lot of fun. You should give it a try.”

I nodded. “You might have to show me how.”

Her smile widened a fraction. “Start by finishing that drink. Then we’ll see where the night takes us.”

I took a sip of the fiery liquor and she drank her wine. It was oddly comfortable, standing there with this mysterious woman in black, sexy tension ratcheting up between us even though we weren’t saying a word. I drank her in too, taking in the delicate line of her jaw and the way the moonlight highlighted her features. She could be anyone under that mask, and the idea turned me on something fierce.

“You don’t seem like the type to be out here alone,” I said finally.

She turned her head to look at me. “And yet, here I am.”

I stepped closer, feeling a magnetic pull I couldn’t explain. “No entourage.”

“I don’t need that. Besides, I’m not alone. You’re here.”

“What’s your name?” I asked again. I couldn’t explain why it mattered. Never before had I been so desperate for a tiny drop of information.

“Call me whatever you like,” she said. “Names don’t matter here.”

“Maybe not to anyone else,” I said. “But yours matters to me.”

She turned fully to face me, and it took everything I had not to look down and check her out for the hundredth time in the span of five minutes. She must have sensed the desire building in me because she smiled softly.

“Stop trying to control everything,” she said from behind her mask. “The rules are different tonight.”