Page 17 of Red Masquerade

I exhaled, sending the smoke outward. Handed him back the cigarette. “Thanks.”

Our fingers brushed.

“No problem.” Those golden eyes zeroed in on mine again.

“Hope we weren’t interrupting anything,” Flora said, sitting at the only other available spot on one of the cushioned chairs.

“Nothing that can’t be discussed later.” A man with amber-colored hair smiled, his arms braced along the back of the couch. His suit jacket had been discarded somewhere, his sleeves rolled up to his elbows, showing off the tight muscle of his forearm.

There were only four of them, all well-dressed, gelled, the smoke creating a haze in the room between all of us.

“How do you know the host?” my companion asked, nodding once at Flora. Like he knew I was the third wheeler, the plus-one.

“Oh,Idon’t.” Her hand found her chest, and she beamed at him, teeth pearly. “But my man does.”

“Your man?” He raised an amused brow. “Do I know him?”

“Do you?” She leaned forward. “Dixon.”

“Lloyd Dixon?” An incredulous laugh.

Lord Lloyd Dixon.

The hand with the cigarette fell to his knee, two fingers angling the burning paper away from his tailored trousers.

I heard a disappointed scoff from one of the other men.

“Yeah,” she said. “We came with him.”

“What are two beautiful ladies like you doing withhim?” He laughed again.

“Careful, he’s just in the other room,” one of the men mumbled over his shoulder.

“Why don’t you stay with us tonight?”

Flora grinned. “Maybe we can be persuaded.”

She couldn’t be, not when Dixon was in town. But they didn’t know that, and I was by myself,looking for a man, after all.

Music wafted through the haze, a jovial little tune from a fancy radio receiver in the corner, crackling and buzzing but unmistakable. Dinky little horns, a piano. We didn’t even have a radio—yet—but I knew Mother wanted one, if just to keep up with the news of the city. She wouldn’t admit it, but her eyes were beginning to fail her and the paper was just too small. Lucas had promised he’d order her one soon.

Flora stood and held a hand out to the amber-haired man. “Dance with me?”

He laughed but obliged, his hand finding the same spot Dixon’s had rested on. She braced her own on his shoulders and they did a slower number, swaying with both feet on the ground.

I looked away from them, to the man I was seated with. “Are you going to introduce yourself?” I asked my companion.

He had been observing them as well. Turning to me, I felt a weight present in the small creases at the corners of his eyes. He wasn’t much older than me, it seemed, but there was age in his irises; in the way he looked upon me, the confidence that had settled on his shoulders. There were centuries in those eyes, and I wondered just what he had lived through to make his soul feel so old.

He held out his hand. “Alexander Sinclair.”

“Helena,” I said, placing my fingers in his, which he brought to his lips, never taking his eyes off of me.

He hummed. “Pleasure to make your acquaintance.”

“Likewise,” I grinned, crossing my legs, causing our knees to brush. I leaned in conspiratorially. “I do hope we weren’t interrupting anything.”

Sinclair sat forward to tap his cigarette against an ashtray before bringing it to his lips again. “Just… investments and those boring ol’ things.” He winked at me, dismissing the topic. “So,shecame with Dixon,” he said, glancing at Flora. “Who didyoucome with?”