“Is something wrong?” I whispered. “Did you see a threat?” So help me, if some mafiya thug ruins my fantasy night . . .
“No. We go to our next destination,” he said with an enigmatic air.
“Oh.” Excitement rekindled inside me. “What’s in the box?”
He surveyed the area. “I suppose you can have it now,” he said, handing it to me.
With a grin, I tore it open, finding inside the most stunning mask imaginable. The material was a rich green that complemented my gown, the edges lined with what had to be real emeralds.
At the sides, silken flares jutted like a butterfly’s wings. Beneath each of the slanted eye cutouts, the material curved down into a curlicue, a tapering wing.
“This is so gorgeous, Sevastyan!” I eagerly gave him my back when he moved to tie it on. “Is this for a masquerade?” In the last novel I’d read from Jess’s collection, a historical romance by some author with a weird first name, there’d been a courtesans’ masked ball. The French he**ine and her Scottish hero had attended, naughtiness ensuing. “Are we going to one?”
“Of a sort,” Sevastyan muttered.
Before I could ask about his odd tone, he’d tied my mask and turned me to face him.
“You’re incomparable,” he said with such solemnity that I blushed.
Who could resist falling for a man like this?
A better woman than I?
Then he pulled a silky onyx domino out of his coat pocket, tying it on.
My mind . . . went . . . temporarily . . . blank.
Once my brain sputtered back to life, a tangle of thoughts hit me. Sexy. Rogue. Lava hot. Spontaneous orgasm.
He couldn’t possibly look more wicked. “Come along.”
As he squired me forward, I kept sneaking glances up at his face.
“It’s not far now, pet.”
I was nearly overwhelmed with curiosity as we made our way toward the end of the foggy alley, the click, click of my heels echoing.
“Here.” He stopped in front of an arched iron gate that looked like it was from the Middle Ages.
“What’s behind there?”
“Our destination.” He turned a lever and opened the gate, ushering me inside a damp tunnel. A torch lit the way deeper within.
“Uh, we’re going in there?”
“Second thoughts?”
I’d asked for this. I was prepared for a free fall with this man. “You won’t lose me that easily, Siberian.”
Was there a whisper of surprise in his expression? Had he thought I’d back out? Or hoped I would?
“At least give me a hint about where we’re going.”
“It’s a place I’ve been before.”
As we followed the tunnel, I realized we were descending below the city. I’d read about catacombs underneath the streets of Paris and was itching to investigate my surroundings, yet he led me ever forward.
Ahead was a circular chamber with more torches. In the center, a fountain bubbled, flames dancing across the surface of the water. Firelight flickered over the rounded walls, illuminating mosaics. The tiles depicted lusty satyrs and maidens in coitus, the flames making it look like the satyrs were moving, thrusting.