I examined the man she’d indicated—blond hair, blue eyes, model smile, early thirties. I dug my fingers into the back of the leather chair. The unfamiliar burn of jealousy rushed through my blood. I stared at her profile, but she ignored me, so I let my eyes wander down her straight back, ample breasts, and round ass.
We’d just see who was pumping whom before the ball was over.
Chapter Seven
Scarlett
Music swelled and rushed out into the cool night air as I walked into the hotel. The masked attendants took my jacket, and I adjusted my own mask before striding through the ballroom entryway. People milled around—talking, laughing, and drinking. I smiled, the black mask embellished with silver scrollwork hiding the top portion of my face.
I wore a crimson gown that draped on each shoulder, the back open almost down to my ass and the front dipping between my breasts. I’d worn it two years earlier to my parents’ ball. A faux pas to wear it again, but I assumed no one in Mr. Porter’s krewe would recognize it.
Scents of spicy seafood colored the air, and a buffet beckoned in the hallway. I took the few steps down to the ballroom, a live band playing in a back corner and a bar set up to my left.
Alcohol was in order. As I waited for the bartender to mix my lemon drop, I eyed the partiers, wondering if Kennedy was already here. We’d agreed to arrive separately and work our respective targets. With any luck, by the end of the night, we’d have enough information to file suit.
Grabbing my martini glass, I turned and spotted Mr. Rhone standing and speaking to my boss, Guy Porter. Guy had returned from his sailing trip lean and tan. I cut through some of the dancers and walked up to the men.
“Mr. Porter. Mr. Rhone.” I dipped my head in greeting, the feathers alongside the edge of my mask flowing in the slight breeze.
“Scarlett.” Mr. Rhone eyed me up and down, his face painted in stripes of gold and black. “You look amazing.”
I smiled. “You two are also quite handsome. Nice tuxes.”
“Good to see you again.” Guy clinked his glass to mine and took a swig. He wore a gold-and-purple half mask that covered his forehead and half of a cheek.
“How was your trip?” I asked, and gazed at the crowd, wondering where my mark was.
“One of my best. The winds were perfect. Caught some amazing fish. I would go on for hours about it, but I hear we’re out to catch more than fish this evening.” He lowered his voice. “The Greenwood contingent is here. The four of them are huddling near the back corner next to the atrium.”
“Has anyone spoken with them yet?”
“I greeted them, but they played dumb. Acted as if nothing were amiss.” Mr. Rhone sniffed and shook his head.
“Well, there’s no point letting this dress go to waste. Let me see if I can go chat them up.” I took a sip of my drink, the alcohol bitter but crisp on my tongue. “Wish me luck.”
Guy’s eyebrows lifted, but he didn’t naysay my plans. I turned and walked toward the atrium, my long hair free and swinging against the bare skin of my back.
“Scarlett?” A man grabbed my elbow, his dark eyes shining through a gold mask. “It’s Eric, from Rhone.” He smiled.
“Oh, hi.” I glanced toward the atrium. Four people stood huddled next the glass doors, chatting despite the mass of dance and music all around.
“Want to dance?”
“I can’t.” I gently pulled my elbow away. “I’m working.”
“Later, then?”
“Sure.” I nodded, but hoped I didn’t see him later. He was nice, but the way he was openly perving on my breasts at that moment sent a chill over my skin. Then again, if Kennedy were the one perving, I didn’t think it would have been a problem. The thought made me take another swig of my lemon drop.
I continued my beeline toward the Greenwood group and was almost to them when I saw a man in a perfectly fitted tux and silver mask stroll up to them. I edged over to one of the Roman columns lining the ballroom and stood, watching.
The woman in the group took to him quickly, placing her hand on his arm. He had them laughing within moments. He shot a glance over to me. Kennedy. He’d beaten me to them. Had he been watching me?
After a few more moments of conversation, he peeled off with the woman. They took to the dance floor, moving easily to the live band’s rendition of some Top 40 pop song. I could have sworn Kennedy smirked at me every time he came into view.
Not to be outdone, I threw my shoulders back and walked over to the group of three men. They quieted as I approached. Brandon stood with his back to the windows, the outside of the venue lit with sparkling overhead lights.