Total pages in book: 59
Estimated words: 54029 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 270(@200wpm)___ 216(@250wpm)___ 180(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 54029 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 270(@200wpm)___ 216(@250wpm)___ 180(@300wpm)
It was the time of the night that this always happened to me.
I reached the point where I’d had entirely too much to drink. The sexual chemistry, the forbidden fantasies, and the absolute need to defy my father made me want to get down on my hands and knees and become a pet to the first man who would look in my direction.
It was time for me to leave.
I knew this.
It was always the same.
Plus, if I stayed too long, my father could see me, or someone he works with closely would spot me in the crowd. I didn’t want to press my luck, and as much as I wanted to act out some of these kinks around me myself, I knew that was never going to be an option.
“Not interested in being a kitty?” a deep voice asked from behind me as I took a large drink of my champagne so I could leave without wasting.
I struggled not to roll my eyes, as I was used to at least a few men attempting to pick me up during the night. Some were tempting, and others weren’t. “Just a voyeur.” That response usually worked for me, and the man typically got the idea that I wasn’t interested in having any real fun with him.
The man offered me a new flute of champagne, and I almost rejected it but saw I only had a couple of sips left in the one I held, and another drink wouldn’t exactly hurt…
“Thank you,” I said, as I placed my old glass on a table and took the one offered. I tried to never make eye contact with anyone, but for some reason, I looked up into his eyes.
They were dark. Powerful.
But I didn’t find that fact shocking. Everyone at my father’s parties was dark and powerful to some degree. I quickly looked away and stared straight ahead hoping my inattentive behavior would be enough for this man to grow bored and move on to the next party guest.
“I’m surprised your father allows you to attend his world famous pet parties,” the man said casually.
My heart stopped. The champagne flute rested on my lips mid-drink as my entire body froze. I couldn’t breathe. I couldn’t think.
The man chuckled as he drank from his own glass. “I take it from your response that Daddy Dearest is unaware of your presence here.”
My eyes darted to where my father stood by the table of expensive meats and cheeses as he laughed loudly at whatever story the people circling him were telling him—a kitty was at each foot rubbing seductively against him. He was distracted. But for how long?
I stole a glance at the man who recognized me, but I couldn’t say the same about him. I had never seen him before, or at least not that I could place. We traveled a lot and never stayed in one state long, but I was usually good at remembering faces at the very least. This mystery man even recognized me with the mask and the wig, which meant that I hadn’t done nearly as good a job concealing my identity as I had thought. If this stranger recognized me, then it was just a matter of time until my father did as well.
But who was this man?
He had black hair slicked back, a strong jaw line, thick eyelashes that hooded dark eyes oozing sophistication and wisdom. Older, but not as old as my father or even as old as most of his colleagues. I could tell from his suit and the Rolex he wore, that he possessed money, but anyone attending one of my father’s parties was wealthy to some degree. He was clearly in good shape, extremely easy on the eyes, and in any other ordinary situation, I would appreciate being in the same place as him. But not now. I needed to flee and fast. But I was also terrified he would then walk over to my father and reveal my secret. It would surely earn him some points with the feared and respected Vittorio Costa.
“Don’t worry,” the man said. “I won’t say anything.”
Keeping secrets from Vittorio Costa would get you killed.
Not wise.
This man was not wise at all.
I didn’t want to thank him because that would be admitting that he was right in his assumption that I was in fact Aria Costa.
“Excuse me,” I said as I turned to walk toward the balcony to get some fresh air. I wanted to run to my bedroom and slam the door, but I also didn’t want this man to know without a doubt that I was Aria. My ears were ringing, and beads of sweat were forming on my upper lip underneath the kitty mask. I needed to regain my composure and get as far away from this man—whom I refused to look at—as I could get.