Reign A Romance Anthology - Nina Levine Page 0,89

between our entrée and desserts.”

Imogen’s eyes gleam with conspiracy. “You think someone paid him a visit while you were in the bathroom?”

I snap my fingers. “Of course, you’re right. That has to be it. My daddy, Mr. Mafioso, squirreled his way in here and waited for the right moment to pounce on my poor and unsuspecting date to warn him off,” I say with sarcasm.

“Possibly. Who knows? Or maybe Mr. Man Bun was just a dick.” She shrugs. “I need to freshen my lipstick. Be a doll and order us another round of drinks.”

When Imogen leaves, I order another two margaritas from the waitress, and that’s the moment I see him. The man. He’s on the dance floor, but he is standing very still in a sea of people dancing around him. He looks like sin wrapped up in a custom suit and a crisp white shirt, and he is staring right at me. When our eyes meet, something runs down my spine, and the hairs on the back of my neck lift. There is something intense about him. Something dark and mysterious, and a thrill of excitement ripples in the pit of my stomach.

I can’t look away, and for a moment the club and the people in it are gone and it’s just me and Mr. Tall, Dark, and Dangerous looking at each other across the room.

Something stirs in my heart.

A name plays on my lips.

A name I refuse to say.

A name that belongs to a ghost.

Heartache tightens in my stomach.

“You want to pay for those now or start a tab, honey?” asks the waitress.

Startled back to the present, I look at her. “We’ll start a tab, thank you.”

“No problem.”

When she leaves, I look back to the dance floor, but he is gone. I scan the room, but he’s vanished.

“Who are you looking for?” Imogen asks when she returns and slides into the booth beside me.

“No one,” I say, my skin prickling with goose bumps. “No one at all.”

3

Bella

The following Saturday, I’m sitting in a limousine on the way to the annual Kitty Isle Ciccula masquerade ball at the Met.

It’s a dazzling affair that was set up by my mother a few months before her death, and one kept alive by my mother’s friend, socialite Ghislaine Bonaparte. It is for a children’s charity and is considered a must-attend event in the New York social circuit.

I’m expected to participate every year, even if rich parties and rubbing shoulders with the social elite is as much fun as rubbing salt into my eyes. But I am proud to be a part of this because it was something very dear to my mother’s heart.

Sitting across from me, Ari looks handsome in his tuxedo and I’m grateful he’s escorting me tonight. Because I’m a complete failure at dating, he is always my plus one for this kind of event, and we always have a good time together.

But as I sit there, my mind casts back to the other night at the club and to the man standing on the dance floor staring at me. I’ve tried not to think of it since. But the memory has been persistent for my attention.

It wasn’t him.

It couldn’t be him.

Because him being here wouldn’t make any sense.

Because him being here would be heartbreaking.

Our limousine pulls up to the curb and the paparazzi goes crazy. As I step into their flashing lights, I try to push him out of my mind.

It’s better not to think about him.

He was a part of my old world.

A world I haven’t lived in for ten years.

I’m a different woman now, and my new world doesn’t have room in it for him.

And the last thing I want is for those two worlds to collide.

I’m not expecting it. Not sure that I could have even prepared for it.

Among all the glitter and shadows of the masquerade ball, I don’t expect to see him.

I’ve been at the gala for hours. I’ve drunk glasses of Cristal. Danced with different people. Engaged in small talk and smiled for official photographs.

It happens when I leave the restroom.

I turn the corner but stop abruptly when I see him, and my heart leaps to my throat.

He is standing at the end of the hall.

For a moment we just stare at one another. A redhead in a strapless Givenchy gown, and a tall man dressed in a custom suit that does nothing to hide those broad shoulders and his wide chest.

It’s really him.

I try to swallow but my throat is too