She flipped on the light and got a look at the room as she stepped inside, leaving the door ajar. It was pretty small and sparsely decorated. There was just a bed and a nightstand against one wall, a dresser against the one near the door. A standing mirror stood next to a curtained window. Everything was new so, for some reason, she didn’t feel that bad when she placed her wineglass on the nightstand.
What she was doing up in the room without permission was pretty unethical, but no one in her position would’ve passed up the chance. Both Lance and Jilly had done it—multiple times and they’d been caught a lot.
Opening her clutch, she reached inside for the voice recorder.
“Rosie” came a deep, all-too-familiar voice. “What a surprise.”
Chapter 13
Dev had recognized her the moment she walked into the grand room with the tall blonde, before she even became aware of his presence. How could he not? Every woman at the ball was dressed either to entice or impress, but no one—not a single woman here—carried it off as well as Rosie. She was walking temptation and eyes followed her.
That dress . . .
God. Unlike most of the woman here, she didn’t wear the ridiculous underdress that increased the volume of the skirt. Her dress was more of a sheath of red and black, clinging to her round hips and thighs with every step, and it was cut low and cinched at the waist by a corset. That dress . . .
Fuck.
He wanted to find a burlap sack and cover her with it.
He also wanted to rip that dress off her with his teeth.
The bourbon he drank had scorched his throat as his gaze lingered on the voluptuous swell above the delicate black lace. He’d only seen Rosie in loose shirts, but the brief moments that their bodies had been pressed together, he’d felt enough to know her breasts were plump and ample. Seeing her in that dress made it nearly impossible to ignore how beautiful her body must be, with all those hidden, soft curves.
It hadn’t helped when he was finally able to drag his gaze up to her face. Her full lips were painted a soft red and those eyes were striking behind the simple red-and-black mask. She was going against the trend in many ways. Her hair was down instead of swept up in some complicated style. Those thick curls brushed her heart-shaped face and fell past her shoulders, longer than he’d expected. Rosie wore no jewelry except the gold chain—the chain that held her deceased husband’s ring—and that made her more elegant than those with thousands of dollars’ worth of diamonds adorning their necks and ears.
Rosie was simply breathtaking.
Not that he hadn’t noticed that about her before, even when she wore loose clothing and had her hair pulled back. From the moment he’d seen her in her apartment, he’d thought she was beautiful, but he recognized now how utterly stunning she was. And he’d known a lot of beautiful women, those born that way and those who achieved it through a gifted surgeon’s hands. None of them could hold a candle to Rosie, because she was a fire.
His senses sparked alive and his body burned just by seeing her, and he knew that had nothing to do with their often volatile conversations or what he suspected about her.
Dev simply reacted to everything that was her, and damn, that was rare and he didn’t like it. At all.
That he was surprised that she was at the Masquerade would be an understatement to say the least, but he was learning that Rosie had a habit of popping up unexpectedly.
He thought about what Gabe had said to him and a twinge of guilt surfaced, but Dev doubted her appearances were so random. Possibly more like extremely calculated, because how could she not think he would be here?
When she left the room, he followed even though he knew he shouldn’t. He had no idea what Rosie was up to, but he was sure it involved that damn journalist and that meant he needed to stay the hell away from her, but curiosity had quickly taken hold when she climbed the cypress staircase and made her way to a smaller bedroom in the back of the house. What in the world was she up to? Nothing good if he was to judge the wide-eyed stare now meeting his. She looked like she’d just been caught trying to steal the queen’s jewels.
“What are you doing up here?” she demanded, pulling her hand out of the clutch.
“I have a better question.” Holding on to the glass of bourbon, he leaned against the door he closed behind him. “What are you doing at the Masquerade?”
“Attempting to have a nice, lovely evening without any drama,” she retorted, and that lovely and rather distracting chest of hers swelled when she took a deep breath. “But apparently that’s not going to happen.”
He smirked. “That’s not what I meant by the question, and you know that.” He paused. “You’ve never been at this event before. I would’ve noticed.”
“Oh really?” She snapped her clutch shut.
Dev nodded.
“There are hundreds of people down there. How would you know if I’ve been to this event before and you just haven’t noticed?”
“There is no way I would not have noticed you. Not if you were dressed like that.”
She was quiet as she appeared to decipher what he meant. “I’m not sure if that was a compliment, but knowing you, it was probably an insult.”
“It wasn’t an insult,” he replied. “You look beautiful. Stunning, really. If you’d been to this event before and looked like this, I would’ve noticed you right away.”
Rosie’s lips parted, drawing his attention. He’d never been much of a kisser. Hell, he never once kissed Sabrina, mainly because he hadn’t wanted that woman’s mouth anywhere near his, but he’d never wanted to know more what a woman’s mouth tasted and felt like than he did in that moment.
“Are you drunk?” she asked.
He arched a brow. “I wish.”
She looked around the room before her gaze drifted back to his. A moment passed and then she said, “My friend had an extra ticket and she knew that I’ve always wanted to attend the Masquerade, so she invited me.”
Interesting. “The blonde you walked in with?”
Rosie eyed him as she nodded.
“But that doesn’t answer why you’re in this room instead of with your friend and enjoying the party.”
“I am enjoying the party.”
“Alone? In a bedroom upstairs where I’m sure guests were not expected to roam?” he queried.
Those tantalizing lips thinned. “Did you think that maybe I saw you and was attempting to hide?”
“Not for one second do I believe you would ever run from me.”
Rosie rolled her eyes.
“What are you doing in here?”
“I’m measuring the door space for beaded curtains. What are you doing?”
A surprised laugh burst from him, the sound unfamiliar even to his own ears. “I’m sure the homeowners will be appreciative of the additional decor, but I seriously doubt that’s what you’re doing, or at least I hope not.”
Her eyes narrowed. “You didn’t answer my question. Why are you up here?”
“I followed you,” he admitted.
She blinked. “Well, not only is that creepy, that’s also annoying.”
“Why is that?” He took a sip of the bourbon, watching her through half-open eyes.
“Because I’m sure you followed me just so you can insult me, and I’m not going to give you that luxury.” She picked up her wineglass and stepped forward, lifting her chin. “So, could you move away from the door?”
“I didn’t follow you so I could insult you. Pretty sure we’ve established that when I said you looked beautiful.”
“Really?” came her dry response. “Considering every conversation I’ve had with you, with the exception of the day in the cemetery, has ended with you insulting me. Why would tonight be any different?”
Tonight was different. He didn’t know why he knew this. Maybe it was instinct, but he knew tonight was like no other that came before. “Are you always this argumentative?”
“Are you always such a douche canoe?” she snapped back. “Oh wait. Don’t answer that. I already know. You are.”
“Douche canoe? I haven’t heard that word since I was . . . thirteen.”