Chapter 2

Tamara

Fresh faced and back in my own clothes, I was nearly ready to leave. I always felt pounds lighter once I’d shed my character for the day and it never failed to put me in a good mood. I loved my job, but there was nothing quite like slipping back into my own mind after a long day of pretending to be somebody else. It was like pulling on a favorite pair of jeans, ones that you’d worn in perfectly until they fit just right.

A knock rapped on my trailer door, startling me.

“Come in,” I called.

I lugged my purse up onto my shoulder just as the door opened a crack and the blue-streaked head of Marcia, one of the set assistants, peaked in.

“There’s someone here to see you,” she said.

“Who?”

Marcia didn’t have time to answer before a tall redhead barged past her. “Surprise!”

“Joanne!” I cried, lurching forward to hug my sister. “What the hell are you doing here?”

She gripped me tight around the torso and we rocked back and forth, laughing.

“I just finished exams,” she said. “There wasn’t a single thing I wanted more than to see my big sister, so here I am!”

“I’m glad you are here.” I pulled away and catalogued her features, attempting to see if anything had changed in the months since I’d seen her last. Our numerous Skype sessions only barely filled the void and her sudden arrival was a dream come true.

Joanne grinned, her cheeks pink, blue eyes laughing. People were often surprised to learn that we were sisters, since she took after my dad in looks and I my mom. We were almost like negatives of each other. Her creamy skin to my terracotta, her blue eyes to my brown. Our hair held the same wave but mine was long and black and Jo kept hers in a bouncy bob.

“I was wondering why you never replied to my last message,” I said. “I didn’t realize it was because you were on a plane.”

“That’s the whole point of surprises,” she said, prodding me in the nose and flouncing off to inspect my trailer. “They’re meant to be a surprise.”

Jo started poking around, opening each of the cabinets in turn until she reached the one where I kept the snacks. She grabbed a bag of chips with a triumphant laugh and sank down onto the couch.

“You don’t have any plans for tonight, do you?” she asked, opening the bag of chips.

I sank down next to her and shook my head.

“Good.” She popped a chip into her mouth and crunched down on it. “I used your star power to get us an invite to a very exclusive and very promising party.”

I rolled my eyes. “Of course you did. I should have known that any surprise from you would include binge drinking.”

“Hey, I’m a college kid.” She knocked her shoulder into mine. “It’s what we do.”

“You’ve been here for two minutes,” I said. “Don’t you want to see some of the sights? You’ve never even been to Europe before.”

“The only sight I want to see is a bunch of sexy guys in masks forming an orderly queue in front of me.”

I cocked a brow. “Huh?”

Jo pulled her purse onto her lap and dug inside before producing a rectangular cardboard box. She pulled out something glittery and passed it over for inspection.

I held up the mask, flared around the eyes to look like the wings of a monarch butterfly. It was beautiful.

“Why do I have a bad feeling about this?” I asked.

She whipped out a mask of her own, pink with rhinestones dotted next to the eye holes. “Because despite your ultra-cool career, you’re the responsible one,” she said, holding the mask up to her face. “And I’m the one who knows how to have fun.”

Despite my hesitance, it was hard not to get excited when I had someone as bubbly as Jo by my side. We went back to my flat to get ready, Jo with a hefty sigh of relief when she found a dress in my closet to match her mask. She brought little with her, opting to rely on my wardrobe as she had been doing since we were kids. We were roughly the same size, though she was a little taller and I was a little curvier.

The dress code for the party was evening wear, and I had the perfect black gown to match my mask. I’d worn it to a red carpet event a couple months before and was dying for a chance to pull it out again. I may have been playing a princess on television, but nothing made me feel more elegant than this dress.

We arrived at the venue, a luxurious banquet hall on the south side of the city, and I took stock of the crowd. It practically smelled of money. I still wasn’t used to rubbing elbows with the elite crowd, from royalty to .com billionaires to fellow actors. Memories of Jo and I prancing around our modest New York townhouse in feather boas pretending to be at an awards show were still fresh in my mind. I always knew I would end up here someday and I assumed by the time I starred in my own television series I’d be used to all this. I wasn’t.

Flashing lights blinded me as we walked up the carpeted front steps. I wasn’t completely anonymous behind my mask, but I was comfortably shielded behind it. Normally the press made me feel exposed and insecure.

“Come on,” Jo said, dragging me by the elbow. “I just saw a guy built like a linebacker go inside and I need to catch him.”

“Jo,” I said in a low, warning tone. “Don’t do anything that’s going to get you or me kicked out of the country.”

She snorted. “Relax. I’ll be totally cool. Completely chill.” Her head swiveled as another finely sculpted man sauntered past us. She squeaked.

At least I could say I tried.

We topped the steps and gave our names to the man blocking the door. He nodded coolly and stepped aside to let us past.

Jo dug her nails into my arm. “This is so cool.”

“If I didn’t know any better, I’d think that you came here for another reason and not just to see your favorite big sister.”

Jo smiled guiltily but then laughed, bumping into my shoulder. “You could be a poor intern up to your elbows in river grime right now and I’d still want to come visit.”

“Good.”

The main hall opened into three other rooms, with a winding staircase leading up to the second floor. Gilt candelabras, fitted with blazing electric lightbulbs, illuminated the crowded space in a warm, buttery glow.

Jo stopped to stare in awe. I did too. Scores of people outfitted in the finest fashions surrounded us, masked and glamorous. They chatted in small clusters like wealthy chimpanzees, preening each other and gossiping.

I didn’t expect that in a group of masked strangers I would find a friendly face, but Dean Horowitz was a hard man to miss. His trademark cheek mole and the shock of white blonde hair on his head attracted my eye instantly.

I nudged Jo. “That’s my friend, Dean. Let’s go talk to him.”

“Dean Horowitz?” she asked. “Like from your show?”

“Yeah. Don’t be weird.”

We shouldered through the crowd to Dean’s side and I tapped him on the shoulder. He detached himself from his group and turned. Confusion soon blurred to grateful surprise on his features and he enveloped me in a hug.

“Finally, someone interesting!” Dean said, releasing me and turning his eyes on my sister. “And who is this?”

“Dean, this is my sister Joanne. She’s visiting for...” I turned to Jo, frowning. “How long are you visiting for?”

Jo ignored my question, clasping Dean’s hand and shaking vigorously. “It’s so good to meet you! I’m a huge fan of the show.”

Dean loved compliments. He smiled widely. “Always happy to meet a fan. Especially one as beautiful as you.”

“Down boy,” I said with a laugh. “Just because you’re a dirty flirt on the show...”

Dean chuckled. “You’re right. Where are my manners?” He bent low and kissed Joanne’s hand. “M’lady.”

Jo, who had never been bowed to before even as a joke, blushed. These two were going to get along just fine.

“I’m going to grab us a couple of drinks,” I said, scouting above the crowd for the bar.

“There’s a bar in each of the rooms,” Dean said.

“Thanks.”

I headed for the middle room, skirting around the walls until I was close to the bar and then cutting across. It was hot, though not unbearably so. I was thirsty all the same.

I grabbed two glasses of champagne (since Dean had one already) and headed back toward the archway. Once there I stopped.

Jo’s head was thrown back in laughter, lips pulled back from her teeth. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d seen her so happy. Before I left home to shoot this season, she was about to go back into school for her third year. And she was miserable.

Jo was one of those people who radiated from every pore when she was happy, but when she was sad it was like the rains had come and nothing would send them away. I was glad to see her like this, and hovered in the doorway rather than taking her drink over. Besides, I wasn’t worried. Dean was harmless. Apart from being a complete flirt and a bit of a playboy, he was much older than Jo and would never do anything to damage our relationship—least of all breaking my sister’s heart.

Dean caught the attention of another man walking by, a tall brunette in a crisp tux and black satin mask. He was gangly but cute in a boyish kind of way, and as soon as his eyes clapped on Jo he stopped in his tracks and went over. Dean introduced them, and from that moment on Dean ceased to exist.

If Jo was happy before, she was beaming now. I leaned against the doorway and smiled. I was glad she dragged me out.

“I can’t tell whether you’re batty or a stalker,” a smooth male voice said from beside me in a posh, crisp accent.

I straightened in alarm, nearly spilling champagne. The stranger smiled down at me, endeared by my alarm more than apologetic.

“Neither,” I corrected.

“A woman with two drinks, staring blissfully into a room full of people but talking to nobody…” he mused. “People will wonder.”

I met his gaze. His eyes were a deep forest green and sent a shiver of delight through me. Even though he wore a black and silver mask, more concealing than most of the others in the room, I could tell he was incredibly handsome. That he was at least 6’3” and broad as a brick wall helped. He looked familiar somehow, but I couldn’t place him.

“People should mind their own goddamn business,” I said.

“An American,” he drawled. “Delightful. How are things in the former colonies?”

“Wouldn’t know.”

I plastered an expression of disinterest on my features and swung my gaze back to my sister, who was still having a wonderful time. My heart was racing, cheeks blazing with heat, though I hoped he thought it was a symptom of the room and not my fiery core.

Struggling to fill the charged silence that grew between us, I nodded toward where Jo stood, face like sunbeams. “I’m watching my sister. I don’t want to interrupt since she’s having a good time.”

“You’re a good sister.”

“I try.” I handed him the glass of champagne that was meant for her.

“Cheers,” he said, taking it. “Normally I don’t take drinks from strange women at parties, but there’s something about you that doesn’t scream assassin.”

“Perhaps I don’t need to be so strange then.”

I turned to him, mustering up courage. I was a beautiful, successful actress. What did I have to be self-conscious about?

“What’s your name?” I asked.

The man’s eyes narrowed a little and he took a sip of champagne. “Therein lies the problem,” he said. “I’m not supposed to be here.”

“A party crasher?” I chuckled. “You don’t seem like the type.”

“All the same.” A sly smile crept onto his lips. “How about a little game?”

The way he said it held the promise of something dark and seductive, and I licked my dry lips.

“What kind of game?”

“We each give each other a name and ridiculous backstory, become new people for the night.”

Okay, I was intrigued. Adding a fake name on top of a mask was layering anonymity on anonymity and I was all about that. Plus, this guy was smokin’ hot. He could’ve suggested a spirited round of whist and I’d be in there like swimwear.

“Let’s do it,” I said. “You go first.”

“Very well.” The man swiped his tongue across his lip in contemplation, jade eyes studying me.

“You go by the pseudonym Katherine Bond, a budding model, but really you’re Katarina Blotnikov,” he said. “Assassin extraordinaire.”

“I thought you said I didn’t seem like the type.”

He smirked. “And that’s why you’re so good at it. You’ve cleverly assimilated into posh society in order to get close to your next mark.”

“Who would that be?” I asked.

“How am I to know?” He shrugged and took a sip of champagne. “You never tell me anything. You’re like a safe.”

“You have quite the imagination,” I said flatly, though all things considered I was quite flattered. A model and an assassin? It sounded bad ass.

“Darling, you have no idea.” He winked and my insides burned.

I cleared my throat. “Okay. So I’m Katarina Blotnikov, assassin extraordinaire, and you’re...” I paused, thinking. “Dennis Kickaroff. Eldest son of the Kickaroff crime family. You have a rubber duck collection but nobody who has seen it has lived to tell about it.”

He cocked a brow. “Both criminals? I like it.”

“One thing left to figure out, Dennis.” I gestured between us. “How do we know each other?”

He flashed a panty-melting smile and lifted his free hand, fiddling around with the one clutching the champagne flute.

“That’s easy,” he said. I realized then that he was pulling a golden band off his pinkie. He took my left hand in his and slid the ring on my finger. “You’re my wife.”