Shadow Billionaire (4 page)

“Let's go get
you dressed.” Rita took Sasha by the arm, and guided her from the
room, giving Gabriel, a reproachful glare over her shoulder as they
exited.

“Gabriel, you
shouldn't be around Miss Trenton.” Henri spoke at Gabriel as the
women left the room. Gabriel curled his fingers into fist, fighting
the urge to slug the small annoying Frenchman.

“She has a
name.” Gabriel replied through gritted teeth.

“One you
shouldn't be pining over.” The Frenchman returned his lips taut. “A
desire like yours will only mean trouble for you here.”

“Will I like
being here, and have no plans to leave.” He returned with equal
volume, staring the cook down.

“A little too
much.” With that, Henri turned on his heel, snatching up the
inventory sheets as he passed by it to leave.

Gabriel
exhaled, in an attempt to control his emotions. He appreciated the
fact Henri had appeared when he did. Another moment alone with
Sasha, and he might have had her in a much more compromising
position. He ran a hand through dark hair before glancing at his
watch.

Time to go see
his grandfather.

He'd promised
he'd drop by a few days before, not on regular business, but
because Gabriel had some things they needed to discuss.

* * *

Back in her
room, Sasha was zipped, nipped and squeezed into her dress. Despite
the worst fears of both her mother, and Rita, eating one cake and
two croissants did not make her ten pounds heavier. In fact, she
had to admit the gown was fetching – low cut enough to show a
tantalizing portion of her cleavage without being too scandalous,
clinging to her form in all the right places.

Sasha bit her
lip when shown the authentic 17th century Venetian mask she was
supposed to wear; she shrunk back, her heartbeat quickened, and her
mouth went dry. One of the secrets she’d loathe to reveal to
anyone, ever since her parents had scoffed, at her protest about
having to wear a mask. She suffered with claustrophobia, the
thought of wearing something, which covered her face all night
terrified her.

To complicate
things further, the mask, rather than having a simple single strap,
wrapped around the entire half of her face and curved along the
sides of her cheeks only exposing her mouth, closed with a series
of intricate clasps at the nape of her neck. The design allowed her
to breathe, and see, her hair remained unaffected. The top half of
her face uncomfortably insulated.

Sasha mentioned
her discomfort to her mother.

Eleanor, who
looked dazzling in a floor length crimson gown and much less
elaborate phoenix mask, waved her off.

“Don't be silly
dear. That thing cost a fortune. You should be glad it's so secure,
so you don't lose it.”

Right, how
stupid of her, forget discomfort suck it up, and don’t lose the
expensive mask, which cost oh so much money, Sasha thought rolling
her eyes.

Upon stepping
into her heels and taking full stock in the mirror, Sasha had to
admit she had a hard time recognizing herself. If anonymity had
been her mother's aim, she'd certainly succeeded.

A clock
somewhere struck the hour, the maids rushed into a flurry of
activity, escorting both Eleanor and Sasha along the corridor to
the party.

They made her
way down the steps into the Grand Hall, Sasha tried to remember
what Gabriel had said to her earlier. Her childhood friend always
knew what to say to cheer her up and tonight had been no different.
For some reason, she found herself reaching into the tiny clutch
she carried with her to find her phone. An unread message blinked
on the screen, from G.

'Don't worry
about tonight. You're the only one here that matters.'

She switched
off the phone, placed it back in her purse, and inhaled long and
slow.

“You are
radiant, Sasha.” She whispered underneath her breath, trying to
quell the butterflies in her stomach. “You are radiant and there is
someone out there for you.” Her mother shushed her just moments
before they entered the large ballroom.

Sasha had to
admit, her parents had outdone themselves. The room, packed to the
hilt with what she assumed the most eligible bachelors and
prominent socialites of the West and East coast, as well as
England, and other European countries. Everyone, true to her
mother’s wishes, sported a mask of some description. Each mask
elaborate in design and variations which included fishes, bears,
horses, clowns, fairies, swans, and a huge amalgamation of other
figures. All flitting through the illuminated ballroom to
socialize.

The huge hall
itself decorated in hues of blue and gold, several tables piled
high with the most delicious treats displayed on gold platters
shroud in color. Exhibited for mouth-watering effect.

Near the dance
floor, a live orchestra played classical music, to which a few
couples had already begun to move. Expansive windows revealed the
well-tended gardens outside, beneath balconies decked out with
fragrant lilies and roses.

All very
beautiful at a glance.

When she
reached the bottom of the staircase, her mother gave her a little
shove into the crowd.

“Go on, Get out
there!”

Her mother
might as well have been sending a lamb to slaughter. Despite a mask
that covered most of her face, Sasha cringed, sure a large number
of the men attending the party, had asked beforehand what she'd be
wearing. She stepped into the hall, immediately encircled by a
throng of them.

“Miss Trenton,
a pleasure. I'm Derek Simpson; my father is in the oil business.”
Said an impetuous young man. He grabbed at Sasha’s hand, about to
take the hand to his lips. A sudden tug, her hand yanked away in
midair, and a pair of salacious wet lips brushed across the back of
it.

“Thaddeus
Grant, Miss Trenton. My parents are in trading. We made over 3
billion last year alone. I'm sure your mother mentioned me.” Her
other arm yanked in another direction, and she had to twist to
untangle herself from the two men.

“It's very nice
to meet you both.” She finally managed, looking from one to the
other. Derek a full head shorter than her, seemed to be taking
advantage of his being vertically challenged, by staring directly
into her cleavage. Thaddeus, while having the advantage of height,
seemed to be busting out of his pirate costume.

“Um...will you
excuse me?” Sasha ducked under a meaty arm, making a beeline for
the punch bowl. She needed a drink in her, before she passed out.
Her mask seemed to be getting very hot.

Unfortunately,
on the way to the refreshment table, three more suitors waylaid
her. All eager to introduce themselves to her, boasted of high
returns businesses, and lineage going back decades. By the time she
escaped their groping fingers, she was dizzy.

Just as the
glass touched her lips, and about to take her first sip of punch.
Manicured fingers reached across, and the glass unceremoniously
plucked from Sasha's hand, and replaced with a glass of dry
champagne.

“Try this. It's
much better.” Leo Newcastle the owner of a huge textile enterprise,
worth billions. He professed, to be adamant in his love for her,
and had been for years, despite never having met her or having a
single conversation with her.

Angered by his
intrusion Sasha shoved the champagne back at him, whirled, and
practically fled back across the hall, in a bid to escape, not
slowing until she ran smack into someone at the edge of the dance
floor.

“Oh!”

Strong arms
closed around her and set her on her feet before she could take an
embarrassing spill.

“I'm so sorry;
I wasn't looking where I was going...” Sasha's words trailed away
as she took in the figure before her. A good half a foot taller
than her, the man's attire elegant. He wore dark riding pants
tucked into knee-high boots, tailored white shirt, cravat, and a
burgundy colored waistcoat. His dress was a period costume,
although Sasha couldn't quite ascertain his character.

His mask struck
her the most, completely white, decorated with only an intricate,
glistening black teardrop inscribed over the surface, just below
one eye.

Although she
had slammed into him with enough force to topple most people. He
had stood firm, barely moving. Sasha gazed up at him waiting for
him to say something. However, he remained silent, only staring
down at her, his hands rested on her shoulders. His face covering
unique, in it covered even his mouth, leaving only his deep green
eyes visible.

Instead of
fawning over her or introducing himself and his wealth, the tall
figure merely extended a hand to her as the orchestra struck up a
new tune – Bach's Brandenburg Concerto, if she wasn't mistaken.

Strange.

Every man she'd
met for the past hour had been hell bent on advertising himself,
and this one hadn't said a word. Intrigued Sasha took his hand.
With easy grace, he swept her onto the dance floor, leading her
into a simple waltz.

Other couples
fell into step around them, Sasha found herself utterly entranced
by her dance partner. He flowed around the floor as if he lived and
breathed the moves, twirling her expertly, and leading her with a
firm sure masculinity, unique in itself. One song bled into
another, still they circled the dance floor. Her feet hardly
touching the ground, as she pirouetted around the room enchanted by
eyes both mysterious yet familiar.

When they
finally came to a halt, the crowd clapped politely at the prowess
of the musicians.

Sasha, still
looking at him lowered her voice so she wouldn't be heard above the
noise, inquired.

“Who are
you?”

In answer, the
figure merely took her hand again, and led her deftly back through
the throngs of people. He grabbed a cup of fruit punch on the way,
put the cup in her hand, and led her out onto the balcony beyond
the party, leaving the din of noise behind.

The air like an
instant refresher to her disposition Sasha breathed in deep,
immediately rushing for the railing to bury her masked face in the
exquisite flowers. She’d escaped at least for the moment, thanks to
her mysterious dance partner, and Saviour.

She took a well
needed sip of the fruit punch.

Just as she'd
begun to turn and thank him, his strong hard figure pressed flush
against her back. She jumped at the intimacy of the contact, but
kept from moving further when his muscular arms twined around her
waist. As she opened her mouth to protest, his hold loosened. She
spun around, dimly aware of the soft metal clips of the intricate
clasps of her mask being undone. In seconds the period piece set
aside, and she could finally breathe.

Only a single
freeing breath allowed to escape before the mysterious costumed man
lifted his mask just enough to reveal his mouth, which descended on
hers claiming her lips. Prizing them apart with his tongue so he
could explore the warmth within.

Sasha gasped at
his boldness, and started to pull back, but his gloved hands cupped
her face and held her in place. A gentle, if firm tongue slid along
the line of her lips, requesting entrance. Startled by the gesture,
Sasha parted her lips a small gap, but large enough for him to
delve into her mouth, his tongue stroking deftly over her palate
tasting her, indulge in its pursuit to sate the need in him.

Her insides
turned to liquid. She was, not so virginal as to have never been
kissed. No one had ever kissed her like this. Her mysterious
suitor's mouth was hot, hungry and sensual in its ministration. He
bit, licked and sucked at her lips, as if she were delicacy he
couldn't get enough of. Soon Sasha was reeling from the bombardment
of sensations travelling throughout her body, alien to anything she
had ever known. She pressed herself closer, molding her body to
his.

His kisses
began to edge southward, down her neck and over her throat to nip
and lick at the small hollow there. Moaning, she let her head fall
back to allow him better access to the sensitive area around her
neck and shoulders. Drinking in the foreign sensation taking over
her body as they rushed through every fiber of her being. She
barely noticed when his deft hands reached into the bodice of her
dress to retrieve the ample globes of her breasts and exposed them
to the dim moonlight.

A halfhearted
protest left her lips as he freed one, and then the other, before
lowering his head to tease a pebbled nipple with his tongue sucking
it into his mouth. A loud moan escaped the heiress, as the night
air and his tongue wreaked havoc on her flesh. His tongue never
slowing in its ministration flicked at her aureole before circling
the tip of her breast. When he gently nibbled at the swollen flesh,
she clung to him as her knees buckled beneath her.

An intense, wet
heat was forming between her legs, growing at speed, as the masked
man's tongue wandered to her other nipple. He sucked a large
portion of her breast into his mouth to suckle as if he were an
infant, groaning as he gave himself over to the act of his obscene
pleasure. Then peppered kisses over the expansive area of her bare
bosom, his free hand crept down to find the slit in her dress,
eased her skirt apart and upward over the length of her legs.

It was on the
tip of Sasha's tongue to protest. He was going too far. Kissing was
one thing, but this was quite another. However, any protests, she
might have had died on her lips as his fingers found the slick hot
core of her, caressing her masterfully through the barrier of her
lacy underwear. Drunk on the sea of her arousal Sasha’s moans were
abandoned, free of correctness, her upbringing, and training
forgotten.

She arched her
hips into his caress, wordless in her plea for more. As many times
as she'd touched herself, she'd never known it could feel so good.
Fire danced in her veins, pooling between her legs as he rubbed
teasingly back and forth over her entrance.