Silas didn't move. He stood so close I could feel the heat radiating off his tailored suit. In this room full of people who smelled like old money and expensive champagne, he was the only one who didn't look away from my dark makeup.
"You're bold," he murmured, his eyes scanning my face, lingering on the silver hoop in my lip. "But boldness usually gets people thrown out of my galas."
"Try it," I challenged, tilting my chin up. "The press is right outside. I'm sure they'd love to see the 'Perfect Billionaire' manhandling a girl in a leather jacket."
A small, dangerous smirk played at the corner of his mouth. He didn't call security. Instead, he reached out and took the half-empty glass of champagne from a passing waiter, handing it to me.
"I don't manhandle anyone, Vexie. I negotiate." He lowered his voice so only I could hear. "Who sent you? Was it the Italians? Or are you just a stray cat looking for a warm place to sleep?"
My grip tightened on the glass. He had no idea. He didn't recognize me. He didn't remember the name of the man whose life he'd ruined five years ago.
"I'm no one's stray," I hissed.
"Good," Silas said, stepping even closer, his hand briefly brushing against my leather sleeve. The contact sent a jolt of electricity through me that I hated. "Because I've never liked things that were easy to tame. Come with me. The real party is upstairs."
He turned and walked toward the private elevator 'without checking to see if I was following. He knew I would. He was a predator, and he'd just invited the prey into his den.
I took a deep breath, fixed my hair, and followed him. Phase one complete, I thought. Now, I just have to make sure I don't fall for the devil while I'm trying to burn down his hell.