Mistress By Blackmail(24)

And also deprived.



* * *



Who was that woman?

Darcy peered around one of several tuxedoed men surrounding her. The men she’d charmed and corralled as soon as she’d arrived at the charity ball.

To be left to her own devices.

For all the talk about being seen together, Marcus La Rocca had promptly dropped her like a stone when they’d entered the lavish ballroom. He’d disappeared into the large crowd, leaving her standing alone. A million miles away from anyone she knew. A thousand miles away from anything familiar. In the middle of a seething mass of elegantly dressed, rich people. The type of people she knew nothing about.

Driving to the ball, she’d worried and fretted over the paparazzi they were sure to encounter entering. Profound relief had swept through her when the limo had dropped them off in the underground parking lot.

But the relief had disappeared along with La Rocca. A different kind of fear had attacked, trickling down the back of her throat, making it hard to breathe. How could she cope in this strange environment, with these polished, fashionable people?

Then, like always, the fighter in her appeared to save the day.

Grabbing a glass of champagne, she’d stuck out her chin and jumped right into the crowd. Within minutes, she’d flirted and charmed and laughed and teased with everyone surrounding her. She’d become the life of the party. It was inevitable. Did her blackmailer think she’d turn into some kind of wallflower, pitifully waiting for him to come to her side? He was in for a shock if that was the case.

She watched as the woman slid a hand down his arm. The Great Man looked at the hand and then straight into the woman’s eyes.

Something clutched at Darcy’s gut. Jerking her attention away from the interplay, she focused on the men before her. Who all smiled back when she smiled and flirted with her when she flirted. Who appreciated how beautiful she was. Much to her satisfaction, they were all charmed and with infinite ease she’d wrapped them right around her pinky finger within minutes.

Unlike La Rocca.

You’ll do.

The words stung and burned, even hours later.

Darn it. The words hurt.

Which made her mad at herself. Why the bloody hell should she care what he thought of her? Clearly, her new façade was a brilliant hit with every other man she’d encountered at this charity ball. The makeup, the haircut, the lotions and potions had done their job. She’d rather enjoyed it if she had to confess. Surprise, surprise. The gown—the beautiful dress she’d fallen in love with as soon as she’d slipped it on—well, it was also perfect by the amount of attention she was receiving. She fit right into this crowd of the rich and famous. Like a duck to water.

Who cared if one man didn’t think much of her?

She couldn’t help herself. She glanced across the room once more. The woman kept pawing him. He was letting her. Darcy eyed the woman, noting the lush figure, the long, blonde hair, the height. A high-fashion model, maybe. Or a past lover? Or perhaps both.

Something ugly twisted inside her.

She scanned his face. No dimples. No grins. He looked the same as when he was stressed about some business email or text. Still, she would lay odds on the fact this wasn’t a business deal being negotiated between the couple.

But there was something important happening. Of that she was sure.

Darcy Moran knew her body language. It had been a matter of survival when she’d been a kid. One peek at her mum’s face and she’d known when to hide. One peek at her pop’s and she’d known when to run. Being an artist had only sharpened those skills. There was something going on over there. Something odd. It was almost as though she could feel the tension in his body.

Glancing back at her gaggle of men, she threw them a tease and laugh, got them chuckling, and then swung her focus back at the couple across the room.

She knew. Knew the tension streaming through him. It had only been forty-eight hours since they met and yet she sensed the taut tension radiating from his body. The woman touched him again, and he finally smiled. But it wasn’t the smile she’d seen this morning when he’d been in bed showing off his gloriousness. She’d swear his eyes weren’t sparkling.

The smile was cold and icy.

The woman dropped her hand and with a flip of her hair, walked away.

Silver flashed as he glanced over and met Darcy’s gaze. His frozen smile slipped from his face, replaced by a dark frown.

Whipping her head around, she laughed at one of the men’s jokes. She made sure her eyes glowed, made sure her grin encompassed everyone surrounding her. If she couldn’t manage to bring Marcus La Rocca to his knees before her, she would darn well get every other man at this party to do the deed. At least this would be something to crow about with the Great Man. There was no way she’d give him the idea she cared one iota about what he was doing or who he allowed to touch him.