Captivate Me Read online

  ALYSSA’S BUZZER SOUNDED and Megan’s muffled voice followed. “Let me in before I drop this big-ass box!”

  After last night, she’d expected Megan to show at some point. According to her phone, Alyssa had sent Megan a text letting her know her drink had been spiked and Beckett was taking her home, but her friend wouldn’t be content with those few words. She was nosy and would want the full-blown explanation.

  Unfortunately, Alyssa couldn’t remember what had happened. Anxiety and embarrassment twisted through her gut. She’d woken up in Beckett’s guest room. Alone. Still wearing all of her clothes, which was a good thing.

  She had a few fuzzy memories. Being pissed at those guys, upset when Beckett insisted on taking her to his place. And maybe...possibly...running her fingers along his naked skin. Although, it was entirely possible that had been a dream.

  When she’d stumbled into his kitchen this morning, bleary-eyed and disoriented, he’d handed her a cup of coffee and immediately promised her nothing had happened and that his neighbor said she’d be fine.

  She hated herself a little for the disappointment she’d felt.

  With nothing else to do, she’d thanked Beckett for taking care of her, refused his offer to drive her home and called a cab as soon as she could.

  Even now, the memory of those moments laden with tension made her skin heat. She’d gotten the awkward morning after with none of the mind-blowing enjoyment from the night before.

  Part of her felt robbed.

  Groaning, Alyssa punched the button that would let Megan in. Better to get this over with now. Her head still fuzzy from the drug, she’d called into the office. Staring at lines of code probably wouldn’t have been a smart decision.

  Megan, her face and half of her body concealed behind a huge gold box, tumbled inside Alyssa’s apartment. She kicked the door closed behind her, tottered into the kitchen and dropped the thing onto the counter.

  “What the heck is that?” Alyssa asked, eyeing the box suspiciously. It had to be at least three feet long and two feet wide.

  “How should I know?” Running her hands through pale blond hair, Megan pushed the wispy strands away from her face. “It’s yours, not mine. Courier arrived downstairs as I came in. Figured I’d save you the trip down.”

  This just got stranger and stranger. Alyssa’s hands slid across the surface of the box. It was slick and shiny, closed with a deep burgundy ribbon tied into a perfect, stiff bow.

  Was it wrong that she got a little thrill when she looked at it? Hoped it was from her masked stranger? She hadn’t heard anything from him in almost three days and the silence was killing her.

  Especially with visions of Beckett Kayne crowding her brain. She didn’t want them there. Didn’t want him there. How mixed up was it that a masked stranger felt safer than a man she actually knew?

  She eyed the box. Christmas and birthdays had never been her favorite occasions. While her sister had opened a pile of presents so big you could barely see her behind them, Alyssa had only received a handful. And it wasn’t that she wasn’t grateful. But compared to the expensive electronics, beautiful clothes and glittering jewelry Mercedes had been lavished with, the functional and practical gifts she’d received were a slap in the face.

  She’d always ended those days with an ache lodged straight in the center of her chest. The thing was, she hadn’t even really wanted the things Mercedes squealed over. She’d just wanted her dad to care enough to notice the difference.

  Sometime in her early teens she’d begun to realize that bone-deep wish would never come true. So she’d made the best of what she had, drawing out the anticipation and playing a little game in her head.

  Picking up the box, she said, “It’s light,” with surprise. Megan had staggered in like it harbored an elephant.

  “Yeah, but the sucker was a bitch to carry.” Megan glared at the box. “Having short arms sucks.”

  Alyssa laughed, unable to keep the bubble of excitement from slipping out. She shouldn’t. She knew better. But there it was.

  “Considering the box is almost bigger than you—”

  “Bite me,” Megan countered with a feral grin that only made Alyssa want to laugh harder.

  Megan barely topped out at five feet. She was tiny and slender, and her pale, short hair, pointed chin and wide blue eyes only added to the ethereal air that clung to her. Guys fell over themselves to take care of her. The thing was, she might look fragile, but she actually had a backbone of steel.

  Beside her, Megan grumbled something incoherent. Grabbing the glass of wine out of Alyssa’s hand, she drank the entire thing in one gulp, then gave her a look full of expectation and barely checked annoyance. “Well, are you going to open it?”

  “Yeah,” Alyssa answered, still staring at it as if she might suddenly develop the ability to see inside. “In a minute.”

  Taking a deep breath, she picked up the box and shook it. A faint rustling sounded and then a muffled thunk. The side of the box reverberated with the impact of something hard.

  “What the heck was that?” Megan asked.

  Alyssa just shrugged. Until that thunk she would have bet money the box contained clothes of some kind. She’d gotten enough socks, underwear and god-awful sweaters in her life to know the sound of material sliding against cardboard. The last sound intrigued her and made her little guessing game that much harder.

  She tilted the box the other direction and waited for the same rasping slide and smack.

  Getting impatient, Megan reached for the box and tried to rip it out of her hands. “For God’s sake, if you’re not going to open it I will. I’m dying to know what’s inside. Aren’t you?”

  She was. But she was also enjoying the anticipation...and the fantasy that her masked, mystery man was the one who had sent the surprise.

  Jerking it up and out of Megan’s reach, Alyssa glared down at her. “My pretty,” she scolded even as a silly, playful grin stretched her lips.

  Megan just huffed and crossed her arms over her chest to wait. They both knew that without climbing onto the bar stool beside her Megan would never reach the box. Alyssa had at least six inches on her...without her heels.

  Excitement swelling inside her chest to the point she wasn’t sure she could stand it anymore, Alyssa finally set the box back on the counter and tugged at the ends of the bow. The ribbon slithered silently away. She lifted the lid and didn’t even look where it landed when she flicked a wrist and sent it sailing behind her.

  Spreading back layers of tissue paper so thin she could practically see through them, she stared down at what lay inside. Not in a million years would she have guessed this.

  Megan let out a gasp quickly followed by the kind of girlie sigh that could convey so much.

  Alyssa swallowed, unwanted tears pricking her eyes. It was beautiful. Possibly the most beautiful present she’d ever received. Which was sad on so many levels, but she refused to focus on that truth. She wouldn’t let her melancholy thoughts ruin the moment.

  Nestled inside was a dress. No, a costume. The material was so delicate and airy it almost appeared to float. Her fingers slipped across it. Soft. Maybe silk, although it had to be extremely expensive to be that thin and fragile. Even the colors were light and subtle. Shades of shimmery blue, purple and black.

  The colors almost perfectly matched the fairy tattooed across her right ribs. Her belly fluttered.

  Reinforcing the thought, nestled behind the dress was a set of fairy wings, the same material as the dress stretched over metal bent into the right shape.

  Her fingers trailed along the material. He’d seen. Remembered. And given her a costume that matched the picture she’d permanently etched into her skin. A tingle spread from her fingers, across her shoulders and down her chest to settle into a deep ache right at the center of her body.

>   It wasn’t just arousal, although that was part of it. It was hard not to anticipate him taking her out of the breathtaking dress. But it was more. A ball of bliss that was scary in its intensity.

  It had been a very long time since anything had made her this happy. And it was seriously dangerous that a stranger had given her the experience.

  Alyssa didn’t exactly trust happiness. In her experience it never lasted long. Something always, always screwed it up.

  And given the complicated, crazy situation, there were so many options for how this could go terribly wrong.

  Swallowing, Alyssa forced her hands out of the box. She took a step away from the temptation it represented.

  Megan, oblivious to her sudden change of attitude, reached inside and pulled out a silvery sandal. Thin, glitter-encrusted straps crisscrossed up to a thick band that would probably hit just above her ankle. The heels were spindly and at least four inches high. And the sole was bloodred.

  With a reverent sigh, Megan held it high as if making an offering to the shoe gods. “I’d kill for these. Seriously, if we wore the same size you’d already be on the floor bleeding.”

  Alyssa chuckled, the wheezing sound just the release she needed for the pent-up angst storming her body.

  “And who, pray tell, has sent you a box full of goodies that probably cost a couple thousand dollars?”

  Alyssa’s eyes widened. Surely Megan had to be wrong.

  Carefully replacing the shoe, Megan snatched the cream-colored envelope with Alyssa’s name scrawled across it in precise letters. She should probably stop Megan, but she wanted to know just as badly as her friend.

  To fill her hands, Alyssa picked up the mask that had been sitting beside the envelope. The mask was the same shades of blue, purple and black, the holes for her eyes studded with glittering rhinestones. The bottom edge dropped down into two swirling curlicues that would cover half her cheekbones. The top half matched, the swirls most likely tall enough to thrust into her hairline. A thread of silvery glitter snaked across the whole thing.

  Alyssa stood there, staring, unable to move or think or breathe. This was the kind of thing that happened to other women. Or fairy-tale princesses. She was not the woman who received gorgeous, expensive, anonymous gifts.

  She was the woman no one noticed.

  There was no way, in that dress, anyone would be able to ignore her.

  A longing, sharp and hard, slammed into her. It threatened to consume her, choke her, devour her beneath the weight of a wish she’d spent years convincing herself didn’t exist.

  No, she would not do this. She wouldn’t let herself hope. The crushing disappointment was never worth the brief few moments of weightless wonder.

  She’d refuse it. Send it back.

  She was about to grab the lid, close the box and order Megan to put it in the hall when Megan popped the flap on the envelope and pulled out a heavy piece of vellum.

  Another paper fluttered to the counter, ignored by both of them as Megan’s blue eyes darted across what was obviously an invitation.

  “Oh, my God,” she breathed out with a burst of giddy awe that sent a shiver of unease straight through Alyssa.

  Turning her gaze, Megan asked, “Do you know what this is?”

  Obviously she didn’t. She hadn’t read it. Shaking her head, Alyssa leaned closer so that she could see. The words scratched onto the surface of the expensive paper had been hand penned in calligraphy.

  “I’ve only heard rumors about this ball, Lys. Not from anyone who’s actually been. You know, the friend of a friend of a cousin’s boyfriend kind of thing. It’s very hush-hush.”

  Megan’s gaze collided with hers, full of divine worship with a healthy dose of jealousy mixed in for fun. “How did you score an invitation? And at the last minute.”

  “I have...” Alyssa had to take a second to clear her throat. “I have no idea.”

  “Hair. Makeup. Now. According to this you have less than two hours to get ready.”

  Megan was practically vibrating with excitement as she bolted through Alyssa’s apartment, disappearing into her bedroom.

  “Wait. What?” Alyssa cried, trailing helplessly behind her friend. “I’m not going.”

  From her bathroom, Megan let out a loud laugh. “Of course you’re going. No one turns down an invite to the Bacchanalia Ball. No one.”

  “But...” Alyssa sputtered. “But I can’t be ready in time. This is too much. Too fast.”

  Megan’s head poked out around the door, her pointed features pulled into a hard glare. “You are not using that as an excuse. We have just enough time for me to fix your face and hair.”

  Alyssa didn’t have time to play dress up. She had too much on her mind. Too much to do. And the fact that her chest was so tight she was struggling to drag in a single full breath only told her she was making the right decision.

  These kinds of things didn’t happen to her.

  But it was too late. She could already hear Megan making herself at home, clanging through her bathroom drawers. Whenever she got in this kind of whirlwind there was no stopping her. Normally, Alyssa liked that about Megan. It made her efficient and unstoppable. Although this was the first time that determination had been directed squarely against her own intentions.

  Retracing her steps, Alyssa sank down onto a barstool. The uncomfortable fluttering in her stomach increased.

  The white paper that had slipped from the envelope caught her attention. Without thinking, she reached for it. Her fingers smoothed over the surface, pinching it open and revealing more of the same scrawling handwriting that had graced the outside of the envelope.

  Masculine and sharp, there were no wasted strokes or pretentious embellishments on the words. No calligraphy for him. Nope, the handwriting and the words themselves were quick and direct. Just like the man who’d sent them.

  Tonight you wear the mask.

  And only what’s inside the box.

  Tonight neither of us walks away unsatisfied.

  * * *

  HOW HAD SHE gotten herself into this mess?

  Alyssa stared down at the dress, a combination of horror, excitement and fevered need twisting deep inside. There was a sinful expanse of skin on display. Her skin.

  Inside the box the dress had looked like a dream. And it still was. The only difference was that apparently the fairy tale she was starring in would be rated R. Or possibly NC-17.

  Just what the heck happened at this ball?

  Megan couldn’t tell her, which did nothing to soothe her steadily increasing nerves. Megan had spent an hour curling, sculpting and pinning Alyssa’s hair up into the kind of artful style that was supposed to look as though it was effortless and might come tumbling down in the first stiff breeze. The ache at the back of her head was evidence it wasn’t going anywhere. She could swear Megan had jabbed several of the damn pins straight through her skull.

  Her nails were painted a soft, shimmery purple that matched her dress and the eye makeup that had taken twenty minutes to perfect.

  Several times during the torture she’d changed her mind and almost ordered Megan to stop the madness. But each time she was tempted, the words on that white page would flash across her mind.

  Tonight she’d find out who he really was. She was wearing the mask, which implied he wouldn’t. And he’d promised neither of them would leave unfulfilled. The sharp ache that had been pulsing between her thighs since the moment she’d turned and noticed him watching her from the shadows ratcheted up one more notch. Much more and she was going to explode.

  Her palms smoothed down the gossamer-soft material again. She couldn’t seem to stop stroking it.

  Really, she rationalized, the dress wasn’t as scandalous as she’d first thought. Yes, it was a little more...transparent than she would
have normally worn, but everything essential was covered.

  Layers of material floated around her body, sweeping the floor. Picking one up, she held it in front of her, her palm spread wide beneath it. It was so sheer a palmist could have told her fortune.

  The variation of color was achieved by adding one section atop another. Several were bunched together into flimsy ropes of material. They crossed over her chest, slashed diagonally across her abdomen and arched over her hips.

  Starting just below her belly button, curving up slightly at the hip and then dipping back down at the small of her back, several shorter layers of material were added to the others. They were barely long enough to skim a few inches down her thighs, but they kept her from flashing her hoo-ha and butt cheeks at everyone.

  There hadn’t been a bra or panties in the box, something she hadn’t registered until she started dressing. Although, even if they had been inside she wasn’t sure they’d have done any good. Not caring what the note said, she’d pulled out her skimpiest pair of panties and put them on. The waistband had been visible above the line of the skirt and they’d given her a hell of a panty line in the back.

  So she’d removed them again, the knowledge that she’d be walking into an exclusive ball bare underneath the sensuous dress ratcheting up her already taut nerves. Taking a deep breath, Alyssa looked into the mirror. She stared hard into her own eyes. Okay, decision time. Was she doing this or not?

  She’d never been the girl to take risks with her personal life. In business she was confident and undaunted. Outside the boardroom...

  It was difficult to shut off the little voice inside her head that sneered what will everyone think? It probably wasn’t a coincidence that the voice sounded strangely like her stepmother.

  She hadn’t worried about anyone’s opinion when she’d stripped for her masked stranger. Yes, there was a level of safety there, being in her own apartment above a controlled access alley. But that safety net hadn’t been in place when she’d let him kiss and touch her in the middle of a crowded street.

  Both of those experiences had thrilled her. The only disappointment she’d experienced with him was when it had ended.