Chapter One
Alicia
“Stop staring and close your mouth, Alicia, you look like a guppy.”
I poked my sister in the ribs. “I can’t help it, Abby. I’m sure you weren’t any better your first time.”
“True, but I at least tried to look normal. Quit gawking at everything. People are starting to stare,” she said under her breath.
I didn’t care. Not one bit. This was supposed to be the best night of my life and I was going to enjoy every bit of it. I took in everything, the beautiful dresses, the string trio playing gently in the background, the decorations in the grand ballroom of the Waldorf-Astoria Hotel, everything. I wanted this night to last forever. I wanted to remember every detail.
Abby waved to someone across the room. “I need to make the rounds. Will you be all right alone?”
I nodded absently, still trying to etch a permanent mental photo into my brain.
“Geez, Alicia. Just try not to embarrass me, okay? Try not to look like the sheltered debutante whose father wouldn’t let her debut until she turned eighteen, okay?”
I shrugged. What was I supposed to do? That’s exactly who I was—a sheltered deb with an overprotective father. I’d never had a boyfriend or even a date. Abby, who was two years older and already debuted, wasn’t any different. She was just better at hiding it.
Abby sighed. “Nevermind,” she said under her breath and floated across the dance floor to whoever had caught her attention. I looked around the room again, wiped my palms in the billowy folds of my dress, and scanned the ballroom for familiar faces.
I didn’t see anyone I knew. Well, that wasn’t exactly true. I knew everyone and everyone knew me— a side effect of having a very powerful father renowned for not letting his two daughters date and being in a close-knit, everyone-knows-everybody’s-dirty-laundry community. But knowing someone doesn’t mean you necessarily like them. The whole New York elite thing was so tiresome to me. Everyone showing off how much money they had, and by extension, how impressive they were by buying the newest, most expensive whatever— watch, car, vacation, island— when in reality very few actually earned their money. They had it handed to them by their parents who had it handed to them and so on and so on. People here didn’t talk about their hopes or aspirations or what they wanted to accomplish in this life and I was tired of hearing about the latest trip to The Hamptons or Monaco or how fast your Bugatti goes.
Besides my sister, Belle French was the only other “deb” I actually liked. She was smart and funny but my favorite thing about Belle was she owned her own business which she started without any help from her parents.
She said she’d be here but I didn’t see her anywhere.
I decided to ask around if anyone had.
“Hey, have you seen Belle tonight?” I asked a GIGANTIC guy with a broody face.
“I have.”
What an ass. “Well, do you know where I can find her?”
“No,” he said and walked away from me.
“Rude brute,” I said under my breath and headed to the champagne bar. I couldn’t drink, not technically, but it was late and I was hoping the waitstaff might be tired enough to actually serve me.
As much as I disliked the attitudes of the other party-goers, I was still a sucker for a romantic, storybook setting. The ballroom was just perfect, twinkly lights strung across the ceiling, gauzy drapes on all the verandas swaying in the night breeze, and the votive candles grouped at each table made the stuffy ballroom look absolutely enchanting. The people sucked, but the atmosphere was amazing. And the only thing that could make a perfect night of romance, ball gowns, and fairy lights better was a teeny champagne buzz. I snagged a glass of rose colored bubbly off the table, marveling at my luck since the server didn’t seem to care in the least. But just as a brought it to my lips a gloved hand appeared in front of my face and took the glass from me.
“Hey!” I said as the hand held the champagne out of reach. I spun around to see who’d be so rude and stopped dead in my tracks, angry, accusatory words catching in my throat. “Hey,” I sputtered again, and stumbled backward, tripping on the trailing layers of my gown as I looked into the most beautiful pair of deep blue eyes I’d ever seen.
I fell in slow motion, completely entranced by this stranger’s face, his presence, the small smile tugging at the corners of his lips. He caught me, a strong firm palm in the small of my back, and set me upright.
“Would you care to dance?” he asked with a silky smooth voice that sent ripples of heat down to my thighs.
“No, I’d like my drink back,” I lied, bringing an even bigger smile to the stranger’s lips.
He set the drink on the table and crossed his arms. “And what would your father say if he knew you’d been drinking tonight?”
I crossed my own arms. “Who are you?”
He bent down, his spicy masculine scent pulling at things low in my body. “Dance with me, Alicia.” His whispered words were velvet in my ear. Then, without waiting for an answer he took my hand and led me to the middle of the ballroom.
Who was this man? He definitely wasn’t the brute-ish or obnoxious bragging type I was used to dealing with. Why did he make me want to do terrible, naughty things right here in the middle of the ball?
And why didn’t that bother me?