Page 111 of Ballrooms & Blackmail

Instead, I sip punch and decide that I’m moving back into the penthouse.

He has to come home eventually, right?

Except, he’s a billionaire. He can go anywhere…and if the last week has shown me anything, it’s that the man is good at hiding.

“So what?” I whisper. “Am I just going to give up?”

No. I’m not.

I’m going to make the man see reason even if I have to slap him in the face with it. Even if?—

The music shifts, the fast upbeat pop song shifting into a slower, romantic ballad.

More couples move toward the dance floor, and my gaze drifts to the entrance again.

Nothing.

“Dammit, Thorn,” I whisper, turning away, my chest tightening, my eyes stinging.

And suddenly it’s all too much.

The ballroom is too big.

The music is too loud.

The lights are too bright.

Setting the glass of punch down, I turn and slip through the crowd.

Past the dancers.

Past the musicians.

Onto one of the balconies that overlooks the gardens. It’s another painful reminder of the man who holds my heart, but at least it’s quieter out here, the cool night air stroking over my skin, the music fading, the yearning for my own personal fantasy not quite as intense.

For a moment, I simply breathe, willing the knot in my throat to loosen, the tears in my eyes to dry up.

I will not be crying at a fabulous fantasy ball.

“I won’t,” I whisper, blinking rapidly as I smooth my hands over the voluminous skirts of my dress.

The balcony door opens behind me and I whip around?—

Not Thorn.

Just other attendees, a group of friends who have their arms looped around each other, their laughter ringing through the air.

One looks up and smiles at me. “I love your dress!”

Another points to my earrings. “Those are gorgeous.”

“And that color,” the third says, “is beautiful on you.”

Girls’ girls.

“Thank you,” I push out. “And all of your dresses are amazing too.”

We chat for a couple of moments longer and then I tell them to have the best time before I leave them to keep cooling down on the balcony.