Chapter 2
A faint, golden light illuminated the contours of the man’s face, sharpening his
striking features. He looked distant, his expression cool and detached aloof restraint that was both forbidding and irresistibly alluring.
He frowned slightly, about to turn and leave.
an air of
Suddenly, Effie’s slender, pale fingers gripped the sleeve of his dress shirt, clinging to him as if he were her last lifeline.
Her heart raced, and the man’s unique scent seemed to swirl around her, clouding her senses. Flashes from the private lounge replayed in her mind, and she found herself thinking-if Mitchell could do it, why couldn’t she?
“Let go,” the man said, his entire being radiating an icy, implacable chill.
“No,” Effie replied, her voice as soft and teasing as a kitten’s purr, the kind that tugged at your heart and made you want to draw closer.
He glanced down at her, the corners of his mouth curving faintly.
“No? Do you even know what happens next if you don’t?” His tone was laced with danger and a dark, magnetic charm.
“Would you be interested in marrying me?” Effie’s eyes were rimmed with red, but she gathered all her courage to get the words out.
She knew it sounded insane.
But she just wanted someone-anyone-to marry. This wasn’t a drunken impulse; she was entirely serious.
Her grandmother was getting old and always wished she’d settle down. She was supposed to marry Mitchell, but after tonight, that was never going to happen.
Effie didn’t want her grandmother to worry, and she didn’t want to give herself a chance to look back, either.
Any man was better than Mitchell, that cheating bastard.
She noticed the man wasn’t wearing a ring. Probably single.
She had to try, right?
Besides, his crisp, clean scent wasn’t unpleasant to her at all. If anything, it made her feel oddly at peace.
For the first time that night, her mind was perfectly clear.
He spoke, his voice cool and steady. In the next moment, he lifted her chin gently with his fingertips, forcing her to meet his eyes. She took in his refined, almost otherworldly features-eyes clear and deep, face a blend of innocence and seduction, the kind of beauty that could drive a person to sin.
It was him.
“Are you sure? Do you even know who I am?” His voice was low and resonant, thick with a magnetic pull that made her heart skip.
Effie’s head jerked up in shock.
Lyman Etheridge.
How could it possibly be Lyman?
Who was Lyman, anyway?
He was the famous prince of Neo-Arcadia-enigmatic, influential, and rumored to have conquered Wall Street at fifteen. When he so much as tapped his shoe, the entire city paid attention.
With striking looks and a fearsome reputation, Lyman was the sort of man socialites lined up to marry. Brilliant, ruthless, utterly untouchable-crossing him usually meant disaster.
He was the last man anyone in their right mind would dare provoke.
Effie stared at his cold, sharp profile, her lashes trembling minutely. Every instinct screamed at her to run.
In fact, she’d met Lyman twice before.
The first time, she’d been cornered during a business negotiation, and it was Lyman who’d come to her rescue.
Later, at a formal gala with Mitchell, she realized the mysterious man who had helped her was Lyman. He gave off an aura of bone-deep chill, dark and impenetrable.
No one with sense would ever cross him.
A cold sweat prickled down her spine, and regret twisted in her gut.
Had he recognized her already?
But then she remembered everything Mitchell had done to her, and she straightened her back, her voice firm and unwavering.
“I’m sure.”
Even if it meant walking straight into the lion’s den, she wasn’t afraid anymore.
She wanted Mitchell to see that she didn’t need him-that she could move on.
Worried he wouldn’t take her seriously, Effie snuck a glance at Lyman, then drew another deep breath.
“I mean it. I’m not joking.”
“Why?” Lyman’s gaze was searching. “You seem like you already have a
boyfriend. Or am I just your backup plan?” He remembered seeing her at the gala with another man.