Chapter One

“You really won’t reconsider?”

“Nope.” Danielle Kastien adjusted the lace mask covering her eyes. “Besides, he invited me to the party. It would be rude not to show up.” Especially since she had every intention of seducing the mail guy she’d been chatting up in her building’s coffee shop for the last few months at said party.

He’d spent every Tuesday and Thursday drinking her in with those warm brown eyes the same way he drank his coffee—slow and controlled, as if it were the most delicious thing in the world. If he could appreciate something as disgusting as coffee, it made her wonder what it would be like to have him focus that appreciation on her.

Yes, spending time with Grayson had the nasty habit of making her think all sorts of wicked thoughts. Considering that she’d somehow managed not to give in to the sexual tension between them before now, she was already petitioning for saint status.

That ended tonight.

Chelsea perched on the edge of the vanity and handed over the brilliant red lipstick Danielle favored. As a kid, Danielle had hated the fact that she was so short and built delicately—it meant she couldn’t keep up on the rare occasions her father actually spent time with her—but now she liked to play up her china-doll looks.

“I know you were invited,” Chelsea said, fidgeting a little, “but are you sure you’re not reacting to that blowout you had with your father yesterday?”

She flinched. Her dad, a decorated four-star general, didn’t like what she was doing with her life, and he never had. He didn’t approve of her corporate job, or the fact that she was twenty-six and still “mucking about” with various men instead of settling down with a good provider. He’d actually used that term—a good provider. As if they were still living in the fifties, and her place was to be pregnant, barefoot, and in the kitchen. He’d be thrilled if she ended up with someone like him—some man in a powerful job who’d steamroll her until she fit the perfect little mold he thought she should.

Danielle had never been all that good at coloring inside the lines.

“The one where he informed me all my life decisions to date are pathetic and worthless, and I’ll never amount to anything?” She finished with her lipstick and rolled her lips together. “Would that be the conversation you’re talking about?”

Chelsea gave her a look filled with concern. “Ah… Yes.”

She made an effort to keep her carefree smile in place, despite the fact that she felt like breaking something. If she was immature enough to be throwing tantrums, she was playing right into his beliefs that she was failing at life. Just because she didn’t have a soft and feminine job—what the hell did Dad even know about soft and feminine? Any appreciation he’d had of those things died along with her mother twenty years ago.

She might not have the most glorious of jobs, but she was putting herself through night school so she’d have the qualifications to be eligible for promotion. Not that she’d told her dad about night school—or anyone else, except for Grayson. He’d thought it was great that she was bettering herself. Hell, he’d even seemed to understand her reasoning for not sharing that fact with anyone else in her life. He also understood why she liked working in an office, pushing paper. She was pretty good with numbers, and liked how they were confined to a very specific logic.

But there was no use thinking about it now, especially when fights with her dad usually left her feeling reckless, which led to all sorts of stupid decisions. “I’ve had my eye on this guy for a while. My jumping him has nothing to do with my daddy issues.”

“Are you sure you don’t want to come with Nathan and me tonight?” From her best friend’s tone, she knew the offer was a lost cause.

Danielle’s smile was a bit more real this time. “Nah. You guys are great and all, but I’m not really into the whole third-wheel thing—or seventh-wheel since you have all those other couples with you.” Chelsea had recently made the decision to move in with the love of her life. This weekend was her last here before the movers showed up for the big pieces of furniture, and she finally settled into the gorgeous condo in the same neighborhood as the gallery she now shared with her husband.

“Are you sure? The bar we’re going to is filled with gorgeous single men who don’t work in your building.” Chelsea stood and smoothed down her Lucille Ball dress. With her red hair done up in the familiar style, she looked like both a blast from the past and a chic present-day model. The woman was made to wear that style.

“I’m sure.”

She frowned. “What happens after tonight? I don’t suppose you’re going to date this one?”

Date? Danielle paused and let herself actually consider it. She and Grayson had shared coffee twice a week for the last few months. It had started when he caught her checking out his ass on the elevator, and they just kept running into each other. She’d never admit it, but she caught herself lingering in the lobby longer than was strictly necessary just to see if he’d show up and give her that look, the one that made her knees turn to Jell-O.

He always did.

And then there were the conversations they had. What started out as a stolen fifteen minutes to down her energy drink while he had coffee sometimes turned into a full hour. A few times they’d even talked longer. When she sat across the table from Grayson, time seemed to stand still. He made her laugh, and he made her hot, and she found herself telling him things he had no business knowing—like her frustrations with her father, and her tentative plans for the future. He’d even gone so far as to give her a few different options to look into beyond the one she’d been considering.

But dating was something else altogether. Dating meant bringing him home to Dad and trying to build a relationship, which she’d never been all that good at doing. Relationships meant putting herself in someone else’s power, which was something she’d gone out of her way to avoid ever since she moved out. She liked not having to answer to anyone.

“Danielle?”

What was the question again? Oh, right. Dating. She plumped her boobs and then checked the effect in the mirror. “Don’t be ridiculous. You know me. I don’t date.”

“Not yet.” Chelsea laughed at the look on her face. “You never know what could happen if you meet the right guy.”

“Now you’re starting to sound like Dad.” Danielle stood up and turned a quick circle. “What do you think?”

“You look amazing, and you know it.” Chelsea smiled. “Catwoman was a stroke of genius.”

Danielle wasn’t going to deny it—the whole black catsuit and killer heels thing made her feel like a vixen. Grayson wouldn’t know what hit him. “I do my best.” She made a shooing motion. “Now get going. You don’t want to be late for your shindig.”

“Be safe tonight.” Chelsea squeezed her shoulder and then stepped into her heels. “Text me when you’re in for the night, so I know you’re home.”

“Honey, chances are I’m going to be late.” If she played things right, she wouldn’t be home at all.

“I know, but I worry about you.”

“I’ll text, I promise.” Danielle slipped her ID and credit card into her super sweet utility belt, and then picked up her bullwhip. It was a smaller version of the comic book character’s, but she hadn’t been able to find a full-length one in the amount of time she’d had. After taking one last moment to check to make sure she looked as fantastic as she felt, she headed for the door.

Tonight she was going to get her some hot mail guy. She’d worry about the consequences later.

…

Tonight would be the night he told her the truth.

Grayson Harper shook his head, amused at his melodrama. He wasn’t the type to leave anything to chance, and the same rule applied to Danielle, the sassy little thing he’d run into a few months ago. She’d made a sarcastic comment about him checking her out—which was exactly what he’d been doing—and he’d been intrigued despite himself.

Because she clearly hadn’t known who he was.

How she’d managed not to know surprised him since he owned the damn building, but he couldn’t turn down a chance to have coffee with her—to have a conversation with someone who didn’t know him as Grayson Harper, CEO and all-around corporate hard-ass.

Not that he minded, most days. He’d built up his corporation from little more than nothing. Doing so hadn’t left much time for friends or casual socializing, though he hadn’t felt the loss until the last few years.

Truth was, having coffee a few times a week with Danielle filled a need he had barely been aware existed. She treated him as if he was just a man and she was just a woman. When he was with her, his job and his very identity took a backseat to his personality. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d met someone who hadn’t recognized him instantly, and he hadn’t felt the weight of it until he’d met her. Over the years he’d stopped dating altogether because of the way women looked at him—as if he were a ladder into the life they wanted. When they saw him, they saw money signs and a position of power. While he didn’t think Danielle was the type of woman to cling to a man for those reasons—or any reason at all—he was almost afraid of the opposite reaction.

Perhaps he should have told her the truth the second time they met in the coffee shop, but Grayson refused to run the risk of her changing how she felt because of who he was. He enjoyed her company far too much to sacrifice it.

It didn’t hurt that he wanted her with a desire that nearly swept away all his hard-won control. Every time she looked at him, her independence and don’t-give-a-fuck attitude sparking in those dark eyes, it was everything he could do not to drag her into the nearest empty room and act out every single fantasy he’d had with her in it.

The last month had made it even more difficult to maintain control. She’d begun touching him with purpose. It started innocently enough, her fingers brushing his when she passed the sugar, her ankle pressing against his calf, her shoulder rubbing his when she leaned against him to laugh at a shared joke. But recently there’d been no mistaking her intent. She’d meet his gaze as she traced circles on his wrist. Just this week, she’d spent their entire time together sitting as close to him as she could while being in a separate chair, her shoulder brushing his constantly and her perfume teasing him.

But she’d turned him down every time he asked her out, claiming a variety of excuses. If she didn’t keep showing up for coffee, he’d have thought she wasn’t interested.

Until now. Just this week she’d made a loaded comment about how she hoped both their desires would be fulfilled this Halloween. There was no mistaking that.

But even without sex in the picture, he wanted to spend more time with her—outside of the building’s coffee shop. The problem was, he couldn’t do that without telling her exactly who he was. Oh, he could, but lies had the nasty tendency to breed and cause problems later down the road. He hadn’t exactly lied—she’d seen the stack of mail in his hand that first day and automatically assumed he was the mail guy—but after a few conversations he’d realized what her opinions on powerful men were, and he’d chosen to stay silent.

Enough was enough, though, and tonight would be the night he came clean.

The Halloween party was a charity event they put together every year, but this was the first time they’d put together a full-on masquerade ball. It’d also be the first year he attended. His secretary had been thrilled about the entire thing, and the office was buzzing with speculation about who would show up as what.

He couldn’t help wondering what Danielle would choose as her costume. After several months of stolen hours and conversations, he should have a good enough read on her to know. That he didn’t delighted him to no end. She was a constant surprise, from what she’d say to what she’d do—a breath of fresh air in the stagnant swamp his life had become. He might be successful but, before he’d met her, he’d been so damn bored.

Not anymore.

Being around her was a growing addiction he didn’t want to fight. To have all that fire and lightning of a personality in his arms—and under his control in the bedroom—was something that had started consuming him. Christ. He rubbed a hand over his face, pushing down the desire threading through him at the thought of her on her knees, looking at him in open defiance even as she submitted. He wanted that badly.

Grayson adjusted the cloak about his shoulders and fixed the mask against his face. He’d always been a fan of The Phantom of the Opera, and lately he’d felt a keen familiarity with the man behind the mask. Everyone saw what they wanted to see—a terrifying creature bent on destruction—not what he really was, a damaged man driven mad by loneliness. That one he could relate to.

Not to mention he admired the Phantom for his willingness to do anything to get the girl.

Grayson had plans to do exactly that.