...The closest he got was five feet away. She was laughing with the blonde again, and she glanced over her friend’s head, and their gazes met. They did more than meet, actually; they locked. The full lips that gave her body a run for its money when it came to curves widened into a knowing smile, and he got to see that her eyes were brown with the thickest lashes he’d ever seen.

As she turned away, Dante could have sworn she winked.

He was so caught up in keeping track of her through the press of people that he didn’t realize she was actually leading him away from the party until a blast of cool air touched his face. Confused, and a little bit lightheaded from the rum he’d been drinking, he paused and looked around, trying to get his bearings. The fresh air was coming from the side door that led to the service hallway behind the ballroom. And the mysterious woman was gone.

Dante glanced back to the bustling party. Everything was in full-swing now, and if he disappeared, nobody would notice. She wanted him to follow her; he was sure of it. And he wanted to follow her, if only to find out her name. Who was this woman? Why had he never noticed her before? He looked over his shoulder, then pulled the door open and slipped into the cool corridor.

There were tables folded up against the wall, a rack of chairs waiting to be used if they became necessary. The party had turned into a hollow echo through the cement walls, but there, with her boot propped up on the edge of the cart to move the chairs, was his mysterious masked woman. She was bent over, fiddling with the zipper that ran up the inside of her calf. It pushed her ripe breasts up and almost out of her leather mini-dress, turning her silhouette into one of the most erotic things he had ever seen. Especially with the whip dangling forgotten from her wrist.

“Didn’t anybody ever tell you it’s not polite to stare?” Her voice was a husky alto, soft and rich, but she hadn’t even turned her head in his direction as she spoke. “Unless impolite is what you’re going for.”

Dante didn’t look away, and he didn’t feel a flush of shame at being called on for his rude behavior. “I have a feeling if you didn’t like being stared at, you would have chosen a more…modest costume.”

She tilted her head just enough to peek around her thick curtain of hair. “And how do you know this isn’t modest for me?”

Dante smiled. “To be fair, I don’t know anything about you. What’s your name?”

She clicked her tongue. “It’s a masquerade party. Tonight, everyone calls me Mistress.” Those sooty lashes ducked as her attention swept over his cape and Phantom mask. He almost wished he’d put a little more thought into the costume now. “And if you ask nicely, boy, I’ll even let you call me that.”

His eyes widened. Was it possible she didn’t know who he was? Because nobody in that building would dare to talk to him like that, even in a playful way. But despite his surprise, he found he really didn’t mind. In fact, he was taking another step toward her. “Ask nicely? I’m not really the asking type. I’m more inclined to just take what I want.”

Slowly, she put down her foot and straightened to her full height. She would have been a tall woman even without the boots, but in the four-inch heels, she matched his six-one.

“We have a problem, then.” Though she didn’t raise her voice, there was no denying the command behind her words. “Because nobody gets anything from me unless I expressly desire it. Anyone who tries usually gets punished.”

Dante’s gaze was drawn to the whip once again. It had been…years since anybody had punished him. It would be dangerous to continue this game. If word got out that the CEO liked to be bent over and paddled like a misbehaving child… But he couldn’t force himself to walk away from her.

“Punished? I don’t think you have it in you.”