Total pages in book: 69
Estimated words: 67966 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 340(@200wpm)___ 272(@250wpm)___ 227(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 67966 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 340(@200wpm)___ 272(@250wpm)___ 227(@300wpm)
Thorn met him with a warm smile, then stepped aside, presenting Arnold like a gift.
Arnold’s gaze locked onto Jonah the moment he arrived. Through the mask, Thorn could see it. He knew the expression well—mesmerized.
The tall man didn’t hesitate, didn’t assess Jonah with calculation. He reached for Jonah’s hand, bowed his head, and pressed a slow, reverent kiss to his knuckles.
Jonah froze, chest expanding as if he’d forgotten how to breathe.
“Jonah Matthews,” Thorn said, “this is Arnold Williams.”
Arnold didn’t release Jonah’s cradled hand right away. When he did, he extended his arm and waited.
Jonah paused, clearly panicked, until Thorn gave him a small nod.
After a shaky breath, Jonah slid his hand into the crook of Arnold’s elbow.
Thorn watched them walk to the dancefloor, Jonah stiff and uneasy as Arnold guided him with careful precision.
The tall man wrapped his arms around Jonah, as if he were handling something fragile and priceless.
There was no anxiousness in the gesture, no rush. Arnold held Jonah close, but with room for him to breathe, and began to move to the music in the gentlest of steps.
The sight pulled at Thorn’s chest. For all his wealth and influence, it was moments like this that mattered most to him. Watching a man like Jonah, who’d convinced himself for so long he was unwanted and unlovable, be treated as if he were the most beautiful man in the room, warmed his heart.
In Arnold’s arms, it was the first time Thorn saw Jonah look up.
Belladonna Mansion
Masquerade Ball ~ Ballroom
Virginia Beach Oceanfront
February 1st, 11:45 p.m.
The violins sang soft and romantic as Jonah swayed stiffly in Arnold’s arms.
Heat crept up his neck beneath the black satin mask Thorn had forced him into.
The masquerade ball was all lavish glamour, glitter, laughing, confident men masked in feathers, lace, gold, and jewels. But Jonah felt as if every eye in the ballroom had turned and locked on him.
His hands shook where Arnold guided them, one broad palm resting on Jonah’s lower back, the other holding his hand with surprising gentleness. Jonah had braced for the squeeze, for the mocking pressure against his sides, but it never came.
Arnold held him in what he called his safe places, as though he were something precious, something he didn’t dare make uncomfortable.
Jonah had to crane his neck to look Arnold in his eyes. The sharp angles of his jaw disappeared beneath the edges of a black-and-gold mask shaped like a hawk’s wings.
He spoke with a deep midwestern accent that rolled down Jonah’s spine like a slow stream of warm honey.
“How are you tonight, Jonah Matthews?” Arnold asked, his baritone so deep it vibrated through his chest.
Jonah swallowed, his voice catching. “I…I’m fine.”
Arnold’s gaze sharpened, but his lips curved beneath the mask. “I like your mask.”
Jonah ducked his head quickly. “Thanks.”
He waited a beat, then murmured, “Your eyes are pretty.”
Jonah swallowed hard. He couldn’t remember the last time someone had complimented him, not without mockery tinging it.
Arnold leaned closer, his breath grazing Jonah’s ear, smooth as silk and tempting as sin. “You feel good in my arms.”
Jonah nearly tripped. That couldn’t be true. This had to be Thorn’s doing. He’d begged this man to take pity on him. That was the only explanation.
The music faded and an upbeat rhythm surged through the room as couples broke apart and started dancing harder, faster, grinding and touching each other.
Jonah panicked, knowing he wasn’t about to attempt that.
“Th-thank you for the dance. I should… I have to go.”
When he tried to step away, Arnold clamped his hand over his, not aggressive but unyielding. “I’ll walk you to your room.”
Jonah blinked. “You…you don’t have to do that.”
Arnold inclined his head, guiding him out of the ballroom. They walked in silence, and Jonah’s nerves knotted with each step.
Instead of Arnold leading them toward the back stairs, he turned into the glass-walled conservatory.
The room glowed like a fairytale setting. The floor lights created a golden walkway through thick greenery. Flowers in every shade bloomed out of season, their fragrances mingling in the warm air as if it wasn’t late winter.
Jonah narrowed his eyes. This was his place, the one area he always came to at night when the house fell silent.
He thought no one knew.
Arnold was quiet, staying close to his side as they walked down the cobblestone path.
Suddenly, Arnold plucked a pink carnation from its stem and turned toward him, standing so close Jonah could feel his breath in his hair.
Arnold brushed the velvety petals over his cheek, staring down at him as his face warmed to an unbearable temperature.
Arnold had a calm, grounding fragrance that was all man…and so familiar. But as the flower lingered under his nose, the faint sweetness of the carnation wove into his scent, making him dizzy.
Arnold’s deep, mellow voice cut through the silence. “Pink carnations mean admiration and fondness.”