A door to one side of the lift labelled The Black Room swung open and two men stepped onto the gangway.
One wore a gold half-mask that covered him from forehead to nose. The aura of power that radiated from him raised the very temperature of the room.
But the moment Ruby’s eyes encountered the second man, her belly clenched.
The head hostess drifted towards him but he raised a hand and waved her away. At the sight of those slim fingers, recognition slammed into her. She watched, dry-mouthed, as he sauntered down the steps and headed for her side of the room.
He stopped in front of her bar.
Silver eyes bore into hers, drilling down hard as if he wanted to know her every last secret. The smile slowly left his face as he continued to stare at her, one eyebrow gradually lifting in silent query.
His silver and black onyx mask was artistically and visually stunning. It revealed his forehead and the lower part of his face and against its brilliance his olive skin glowed in a way that made her want to touch that chiselled jaw.
Piercing eyes drifted over her in a lazy sweep, pausing for a long second at her breasts. Her breath hitched in her throat as her body reacted to his probing gaze.
Narciso Valentino. If she’d had two dollars to rub together she’d have bet on it.
Her mouth dried as she looked into his eyes and lost every last sensible thought in her head.
‘Serve me, cara mia. I’m dying of thirst.’ His voice was raw, unadulterated sin, oozing what Ruby could only conclude was sex appeal.
At least she thought so because the sound of it had transmitted a tingling to parts of her body she hadn’t known could tingle just from hearing a man’s voice. And why on earth had her hands grown so clammy?
When his brow arched higher at her inactivity, she scrambled to think straight. ‘W-what would you like?’
His eyes moved down again, paused at her throat, where her pulse jumped like a frenzied rabbit.
‘Surprise me.’
He turned abruptly and all signs of mirth leached from his face.
Across the small space between the bar and the poker table, he speared the silver-haired man with an unforgiving gaze.
The man stared back, the part of his face visible beneath his mask taut despite his whole body bristling with disdain.
Animosity arced through the air, snapping coils of dangerous electricity that made Ruby’s pulse leap higher. Her gaze slid back to the younger man as if drawn by magnets. She told herself she was trying to decipher what sort of drink to make him but, encountering those broad shoulders again, her mind drifted into impure territory, as it had outside the nightclub in New York.
Focus!
The older man had requested a Sicilian red but instinctively she didn’t think the man she’d concluded was Narciso would go for wine.
Casting her gaze over the bottles of spirits and liqueurs, she quickly measured the required shots, mixed a cocktail and placed it on a tray.
Willing her fingers not to shake, she approached the poker table and placed his drink at his elbow.
He dragged his gaze from the older man long enough to glance from the pale golden drink to her face. ‘What is this?’ he asked.