The darkened ballroom might as well have transported them back to eighteenth century Venice.
Portia Conway’s charity had gone all out for the masquerade. From the long velvet curtains draped from the ceiling and around the room, ornate crystal chandeliers every thirty feet with boas woven throughout and backlit with purple filters, and cushioned alcoves along the sides, romantic escapade and escape clearly mastered.
The dance floor took up the majority of the center floor, with both a five piece orchestra playing in the corner, and an additional DJ booth in the other. A decent-sized stage sat between with a glass podium and microphone.
Twinkle lights and more purple fabric canopied a gigantic bar towards the entrance. Six bartenders served guests and waiters at the cocktail tables surrounding the dance floor.
The only thing more ornate than the ten-foot-tall vases with fresh flowers between all the alcoves were the masks on the attendees.
The simple sequins on Vaughn’s otherwise all black mask were paltry compared to the long feathers, dazzling gems and embellishments on the masks staring back at him.
“You look like you’ve never seen a masquerade ball before.” A man strolled up to them, wearing a black tux and silver mask in the shape of a jaguar’s face that covered everything except his mouth and chin. The voice sounded just like…
“Duane?”
The mask smiled, and their boss, Duane Wilkes, removed the jaguar face.
“What are you doing here?”
“Portia Conway invited me.”
“When?”
He shook hands with someone passing by, and waited to answer until the man was clear. “When she called to verify that you really were a Knight.”
Vaughn blinked. He glanced at Dorian and Riggs, who both shrugged.
“You expected her not to have the people she hires fully vetted? Especially not after that person had been suspected and subsequently arrested for theft?”
His heart sank.
Busted.
There was no point in defending himself at this point.
“Did you honestly think I wouldn’t find out?”
“I didn’t want to burden you with it. Since it was clearly a misunderstanding.”
“A misunderstanding involving one of my Knights?” Duane stepped forward, turning sideways with a menacing stare. “And you didn’t think I’d want to know?”
Vaughn sighed, but kept his chin up. This suddenly felt like an argument with his father, being disowned and kicked out for revealing the scumbag’s indiscretions against his wife. A bit harsh by his own standards, but then his dad had the temper of a nuclear bomb on a short fuse. Much like his attention span. Duane at least had his temper on a considerably longer fuse.
“I handled it. Apologized to Ms. Conway, told her the truth, and she offered this gig tonight. The agency’s reputation is secure. With the potential for a lot more high-end clients tonight.”
His voice lowered. “Anything that involves the reputation of one of my Knights, involves the reputation of my overall agency. That is absolutely my business.”
“Understood.”
The boss sighed and nodded to Riggs and D. “Go earn your keep. Pass out your agency cards when you can.”
They nodded, and melded into the crowd seamlessly.
Duane moved in closer, and murmured into Vaughn’s side. “I’m not one to turn down any repeat cliental, but your former date is blackballed. Have I made myself clear?”
Vaughn swallowed, and kept his gaze on the crowd. “Yes.”
“Good.” The man replaced the jaguar mask on his face, and clapped him on the back. “Now, go cut up that floor, Magic Mike.”