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  Couples strolled with twined hands, laughing and talking and halving fun. For a moment, a split second only, I let myself wonder what it’d be like to have a normal life, a respectful boyfriend, and a regular job. But my life was nothing close to normal, and the fewer people who knew the truth, the better. Besides, I wasn’t ready to move on. I wasn’t sure I’d ever be.

  “Airport, please,” I said to the driver.

  “My pleasure,” the middle-aged man replied, holding my gaze for a bit longer than I felt comfortable with. This was the moment I resented not changing into my jeans, and so I crossed my legs, stretching them out to conceal my panties underneath my mini. I didn’t trust the black window between us either and unfortunately in this short skirt I would have to stand any glares until I returned home where I could transform back to a twenty-eight-year-old Skyler Waters.

  CHAPTER 2

  I hated flying. Every time I got on a plane, nausea filled my throat. Apparently everyone in my family had the fear, and anti-nausea medication didn’t help. The entire flight my stomach was tied in knots; the same kind you get when going down the first hill of a steep roller coaster with your hands up. The problem was that when you get paid ten percent of a nearly five million dollar profit, you learn to tolerate anything. So I did the only thing I could and sucked it up for the money. Money that had kept me alive thus far.

  Most seats on the airplane were empty. I closed my eyes to get away from my fear and slept through the flight. The pill I’d been prescribed had definitely helped, especially when I dreamed about Harry. There must have been an idiotic smile stretching my face too, because I couldn’t help smiling. In my dream, Harry appeared much different than the boy I met last month. I was looking out the kitchen window in my secured neighborhood when he came from behind me, wrapped his arms around me, and nuzzled his nose into my neck. Those arms were strong—stronger than I originally imagined. He turned me around, lifting me up to the kitchen counter, pushed my knees apart, and slid his body in between my legs. The heat of him penetrated my skin. His mouth skimmed over my neck where he inhaled. The same rush of hormones I’d felt in Vegas invaded my bloodstream. He gently skimmed his hand along the inside of my thigh until he reached the band of my panties. Tugging it to the side, his finger slid forward, prodding my entrance before lifting my wetness up to my clit. While he strummed with perfection, his lips teased my neck before reaching to my ear to whisper, “May I offer you—”

  “May I offer you a hot towel, miss? We’ll be landing soon.” The flight attendant woke me.

  I nearly jumped out of my seat, quickly remembering where I was. Thank goodness I was covered with a blanket, otherwise she’d see my scrunched-up skirt and my hand massaging my swollen mound right through my panties. Shit! Was I about to have a wet dream? From the feel of my panties, the answer was yes.

  “Yes, thank you.” I exhaled, and reached from underneath the blanket for the towel. Grateful for the darkness that hid the shame on my cheeks, I slid back into the seat.

  What the heck was that all about? Feeling the remnants of my pill, my eyelids lowered again, and I forced them to open. I gulped the leftover cold coffee. Why would I dream of Harry? I’d met attractive men before, and none of them had left a lasting impression on me. But Harry was different. There was an old-fashioned feeling about him, the same kind I remembered the men from my little town having, that kept my interest for longer than any of the New Yorkers I’d met. Should I have given him a chance? No, that would have definitely been too complicated. These were the moments when I regretted so many choices. But my past could possibly haunt me for a long time, and I couldn’t allow a man in my life. I had to remain objective and focused. Harry was already preoccupying my mind for longer than he should have.

  I landed in Newark on Wednesday, just after five in the morning. The streets were filled with rushing businessman on their cell phones. It took me over an hour to get home, which thankfully left me most of the day to rest before I had to report to my boss. I stuck my suitcase into a corner, wondering why he’d invited me to the charity dinner on Saturday night. I thought he wanted me to keep a low profile, and this was definitely a first. I promised myself a long-awaited vacation afterwards—one where no one could find me and I could finally get some rest. Barely sleeping through the nights was beginning to take its toll. I was pretty sure that I was addicted to the sleeping pills too, because without them I couldn’t close my eyes.

  After twisting my five locks closed and hooking all three chains on my door, I sat down on the edge of my bed. I couldn’t wait to get the new security alarm. With the money Mr. Wagner, my boss, would pay me after this job, I’d last for a long time on my own. I sipped cold water from a bottle and looked out the window. From here I could see the building beside mine and the one across the street, and I was pretty sure they could see me too. I lowered the drapes, sealing off the morning light. As soon as I lifted my feet to the bed, my white fur ball made itself comfortable on my lap. He massaged his favorite sleeping place with his paws, needling me gently with his nails. I set him to the side before pulling the cotton blanket to cover us both. I popped two white pills, stretched out on my bed, cracked my spine once to each side, and curled up beside my cat. His nose stuck out from underneath the blanket.

  “You’re such a homebody,” I whispered, and he purred in response. It wasn’t long before I fell asleep. Unfortunately, this time I didn’t dream about Harry. Instead, my mind took me back to the most dreadful day of my life; the one when I lost my fiancé, our baby, and killed a man. In my dream, his twin brother was after me with a dozen scalpels in his hands.

  It’d been almost two years since I left Ogden. My new family begged me to stay. They promised to keep me safe, but they didn’t know that it was me who had to ensure their safety because Mateo Menzos, the living twin, made sure I knew that he was after me. He said he’d hunt me and kill me. But thankfully he knew nothing about the new family I’d gained and left behind. He had no clue that our father raped my mother and I was the product. And he had no clue that I’d not only found my mother and her family but also gained a sister and a brother. They gave me more love in the few months I’d known them to be my siblings than anyone else had my entire life. I owed them to stay away. I would never put them in harm’s way. Thus, with an excuse to move on after Blake’s passing, I left for New York.

  It took me a long time to get used to city living, almost forever, but I had no choice. New York gave me more options than I’d had in our little town of Ogden. While my current job included risks, the money I made allowed me the luxury to hide. And while Mateo Menzos would be looking for a shy girl from a small town who didn’t know how to dress, playing the exact opposite would throw him off completely. I bet if I were standing in the same room at a party with him, he’d never recognize me. But I could never allow him to get that close to me. Besides, with the rare exception of this weekend, of course, I didn’t attend many parties.

  The sound of a phone ringing jolted me from my dream. At least I thought it had. Well, it would take much more than a few rings to get me up

  Hello? Hello? I heard my own voice, but couldn’t open my eyes. I was at that point of halfway to waking, aware that I was in my bed, yet couldn’t get up. The phone stopped ringing for a minute, and just when I began falling asleep, it started again. This time the ringing seemed louder and forced me to open my eyes. I sat up in my bed and Milky jumped off, stretching his body on the carpet.

  “Hello?” I said to the receiver.

  “Sky, your dress is ready for pickup for Saturday’s gala.”

  I wiped my eyes, trying to put together a calendar in my mind. What day was it? “Gala?” I whispered.

  “Sorry to wake you, hun.” I recognized my assistant’s voice. “Yes, the Gala you’re supposed to be at on Saturday. Listen, I’ll pick it up for you and drop it off. It’s really not a problem, Sky.”

  Since I didn’t dare go outside to get groceries or shop, personal assistants were t
he way to go. That’s not to say that I stayed locked up all the time. But there were bad days, and then there were days straight from hell, when stepping out rushed anxiety through me at the speed of NASCAR race cars and I couldn’t breathe. It felt weird to have a PA at first, but given that I had the money to do so, I could not imagine my life without Sonia.

  “Yes, of course. I had a late night.” I peaked over at the clock. It was already two in the afternoon. “Have I told you how much I love you lately?”

  “No, and I love you too. I’ll have the dress to you on Saturday morning, and the limo will pick you up at five.”

  The great thing about Sonia was that while she knew a lot of my business, she didn’t get into it too much.

  “Yes, thank you for your call, Sonia.”

  “There are fresh groceries in your fridge, and I bought you two new dresses. They’re in your closet.”

  “Will you marry me?” I joked.

  “Aren’t we already married? And I’ll see you the Saturday after.”

  Saturday, Saturday, Saturday....

  “My birthday party,” she said in a quieter tone. “You’ll be there, right?”

  Shit! I knew I was forgetting something. I took out a marker and scribbled on the envelope on the counter. Once done, I hoped the sharpie didn’t leak through.

  “Yes, of course. I wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

  “And, your sister-in-law called me asking about you. Emma wants to talk to you.”

  “All right, thank you, Sonia. I don’t know what I would do without you.”

  “You’d be a very disorganized mess.”

  Was she ever right! While I could hide better than anyone, organizing my life in the big city was much different than taking care of a general goods store back home.

  Home... I sighed at the thought. I was pretty sure I’d never see home again.

  As soon as I hung up, Milky rubbed himself against my leg.

  “One second, Milky, let’s get some light in here.” I pulled the window covers to the sides, hoping the vitamin D would act as caffeine today.

  “Meow.”

  “I know you’re hungry.” I picked up the fur ball, scratching under his chin. “Here.” I set him back down to the floor, reached for the can and scooped the stinky salmon-flavored cat food into his bowl. He didn’t bother chewing and swallowed every last chunk I didn’t crumble.

  I stretched my arms up and cracked my spine once again. I wondered how the real estate moguls and business men with noses bigger than their egos would react to the anonymous donation of over four million dollars. Most of all, I wondered why in the world my boss wanted me to attend the gala in the first place.

  CHAPTER 3

  The champagne swooshed around in my glass. It was my third one, and I was finally beginning to feel the alcohol working its way through my veins. A waiter handed me the first drink as soon as I entered through the heavy wooden door of the gala room at The Plaza Hotel. The smell of money wafted around me as I skimmed the faces of the celebrities. I didn’t normally consider myself starstruck, but the energy in the room that screamed millions in jewels, designer gowns, and tiny gleaming purses I wouldn’t fit a lip gloss in was a little intimidating even for me.

  People get used to money quickly—heck, I sure did even if it wasn’t a lot. But if they don’t know how to handle themselves while swimming in cash-brewed honey, they can lose it even quicker.

  Tonight, the entire hotel was exclusively reserved for an event that would never be repeated. A gala fundraiser that cost my boss fifty thousand dollars for a plate of dinner I could probably eat in less than ten minutes. This made me wonder exactly why I was asked to come here. After all, the donation was anonymous. Why in the world did he want me there when the whole pretense of my job was to stay unrecognizable? But would you question your rich employer? Heck, I wouldn’t, and to describe Mr. Wagner as rich was an understatement. He could have had toilet paper made from thousand dollar bills, use it for the rest of his life, and still wouldn’t know what to do with the remaining money. So I made a point to come but still maintain my anonymity.

  This gala was supposed to help soldiers who fought for our freedom and returned home with permanent disabilities. It was one of the most extravagant parties I’d ever been to. Everyone was here: the crème de la crème of Hollywood, governors, senators, state heads and officials. They mingled, nibbled little hors d’oeuvres, and greeted one another with a firm hand shake or an impersonal kiss on the cheek—the kind where their lips hovered just above the skin. It was rumored that the president would also make an appearance, which would explain the heavy security checks. Anyone wishing to make the news, a gossip column in the morning’s paper, or simply make some sort of a statement would show up tonight. And that wasn’t too good for me. I needed to keep a lower profile.

  With the quality of guests here, though, it wouldn’t surprise me if someone mistook me for one of the staff.

  Maybe I should just go to the kitchen? My second champagne glass chimed against the mayor’s to make a toast for the victims and heroes at Ground Zero. I don’t quite remember how I got to be in his company but made up a story that I was representing one of the organizations making a donation tonight. While I wasn’t specific as over four million dollars would definitely turn some heads, I couldn’t help but feel that everyone was looking at me. After my boss cut my paycheck and took his share, that’s all that would be left from my Vegas sweep. If I could only get through tonight without a hitch, my money would be deposited to my bank account in the morning.

  In the main hall, the sun was low and shined beautifully through the tall windows, bouncing off the marble posts and illuminating sprayed-on sparkles on the palm trees. I peeked at my watch. It was already after seven, and the donation announcements and speeches would begin right after dinner, in less than two hours. I scanned the Botox-filled faces with paste-like makeup from one end of the grand hall to the other. Shades of black tuxes and black silk dresses blended together. Tonight’s black-and-white theme was taken way too seriously by most. The extravagant gowns and revealing floor-length dresses could have easily been worn to a red-carpet event. From feathers, to sequins, silks, and Swarovski crystals, it seemed every woman was trying to outdo each other.

  I took a deep breath and then exhaled through tight lips, letting the air escape with a soft whistle. I switched the champagne glass into my left hand and fisted my right to cut off the small jitters. If I acted any more anxious, the stiff guards at the door would ask me to walk through the metal detectors again.

  People will just assume the donation is from a movie star, I thought. I’m no one special. I don’t even have to acknowledge it. They won’t pay attention to me.

  Part of my contract required me to stay anonymous. What was Mr. Wagner thinking? How the heck was I supposed to do my job if he sent me to events like these? Anonymous my ass! But the less people see me, the better. I sneaked behind a column and watched the party from there. I’d been an expert at blending in and going incognito for two years now. That’s how I survived. Disappearing off the face of the earth was like a gift and a talent combined into one. Some people can paint, others act or sing—I become invisible. Not literally, of course.

  Show up. Blend in. Get out, I repeated in my mind.

  At that point, I was glad I wore a simple white, floor-length dress. The silk curved around my body in all the right places and hid my most provocative feature just below the neck: my boobs. A tightened tension bandage was sewn into the dress, right around my chest and the lower section of my back. It flattened my front just enough for the twins not to spill out.

  I’d grabbed my third glass of the evening from a waiter’s tray and replaced an empty one on top without him even noticing when a familiar face skimmed through the crowds. And I lost him just as fast. Forcing the full drink down in three gulps, I set aside the empty glass on a side table. The champagne bubbles didn’t get a chance to diffuse. I covered my mouth to camouflage an i
nnocent burp and headed toward the far end of the room.

  “Excuse me.” I pushed through the crowd. The dark head came into my view between the other guests and disappeared again. I stood on my toes, straining my eyes, and then stepped back down, rushing towards the spot at the end of the hall where I last saw the mystery man who looked so familiar. I wasn’t too sure why I’d done that. Running into anyone I knew was a fat chance, but I didn’t even want to take that chance. I just needed to be sure. I’d probably just check out who he was when I was closer, realize it wasn’t anyone I knew, and then I’d go looking for my assigned seat at one of the tables.

  I halted when I finally reached him, simply staring. My mouth nearly dropped down to the floor, and I wondered whether someone would pick it up before I got a chance to close it. He hadn’t seen me yet, and my body disobeyed my command to move out of view. In fact, it was doing everything in its power to get closer.

  But the man a few feet away from me did not look anything like the young, flirtatious Harry I met in Vegas. This man charmed the ladies around him with the dimples in his cheek as if they were some kind of aphrodisiacs. The women on his arms melted, hanging on to him like permanently fastened Christmas ornaments. They straightened their bare backs and inhaled deeper to lift their bosoms, giggling as if he were the funniest man in the world.

  I rolled my eyes. Oh please!

  He did not shy away from the attention either.

  What the hell is he doing here? And why did he dye his hair? What about those blue eyes I’d seen? What happened to them?

  Standing at well over six feet, Harry’s stance gave the illusion of even broader shoulders and wider chest than what I remembered in Vegas. He sported a custom-cut black suit with a bow tie. When he spoke to the woman hanging on his right arm, I noticed that the straight row of veneers had been replaced by naturally perfect teeth. His eyes were a deep hazel that held power and dominated the room. And those cheeks—oh my!—they were way more defined and chiseled than I remembered, hosting those delicious dimples. His skin appeared a tone lighter under the frame of his brown hair that’d been slicked back to appear short, although I knew it wasn’t. A slight wave of curls twisted at the right side of his face. He looked absolutely breathtaking, and definitely not as innocent as when I’d met him in Vegas. In fact, if he made that same offer now as he had in my room, I wouldn’t even hesitate. My body would slap me around if I did and would never forgive me.