An Extravagant Tryst: A Prologue (The Extravagant)

  An Extravagant Tryst

  A Prologue to One Exquisite Touch

  Lauren Blakely

  Little Dog Press

  Contents

  Also by Lauren Blakely

  Dear Reader

  About An Extravagant Tryst

  1. Sage

  2. Cole

  3. Sage

  4. Daniel

  5. Cole

  6. Sage

  Also by Lauren Blakely

  Contact

  Copyright © 2020 by Lauren Blakely

  Cover Design by Helen Williams.

  All rights reserved. Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without the prior written permission of both the copyright owner and the above publisher of this book. This contemporary romance is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, brands, media, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of various products referenced in this work of fiction, which have been used without permission. The publication/use of these trademarks is not authorized, associated with, or sponsored by the trademark owners. This book is licensed for your personal use only. This book may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person you share it with, especially if you enjoy sexy romance novels with alpha males. If you are reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then you should return it and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the author’s work.

  Also by Lauren Blakely

  Big Rock Series

  Big Rock

  Mister O

  Well Hung

  Full Package

  Joy Ride

  Hard Wood

  The Guys Who Got Away Series

  Dear Sexy Ex-Boyfriend

  The What If Guy

  Thanks for Last Night

  The Gift Series

  The Engagement Gift

  The Virgin Gift

  The Decadent Gift

  The Extravagant Series

  One Night Only

  One Exquisite Touch

  One Time Only

  One Alluring Chance

  One Shameless Secret

  MM Standalone Novels

  A Guy Walks Into My Bar

  The Heartbreakers Series

  Once Upon a Real Good Time

  Once Upon a Sure Thing

  Once Upon a Wild Fling

  Boyfriend Material

  Asking For a Friend

  Sex and Other Shiny Objects

  One Night Stand-In

  Lucky In Love Series

  Best Laid Plans

  The Feel Good Factor

  Nobody Does It Better

  Unzipped

  Always Satisfied Series

  Satisfaction Guaranteed

  Instant Gratification

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  Never Have I Ever

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  The Sexy Suit Series

  Lucky Suit

  Birthday Suit

  From Paris With Love

  Wanderlust

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  One Love Series

  The Sexy One

  The Only One

  The Hot One

  The Knocked Up Plan

  Come As You Are

  Sports Romance

  Most Valuable Playboy

  Most Likely to Score

  Standalones

  Stud Finder

  The V Card

  The Real Deal

  Unbreak My Heart

  The Break-Up Album

  21 Stolen Kisses

  Out of Bounds

  The Caught Up in Love Series

  The Pretending Plot (previously called Pretending He’s Mine)

  The Dating Proposal

  The Second Chance Plan (previously called Caught Up In Us)

  The Private Rehearsal (previously called Playing With Her Heart)

  Seductive Nights Series

  Night After Night

  After This Night

  One More Night

  A Wildly Seductive Night

  Dear Reader

  I’m so excited to share The Extravagant series with you. This is a scorching, red-hot world filled with billionaires, high stakes, and wild nights! This free novella is just the beginning, and it’s actually the first part of ONE EXQUISITE TOUCH, the first standalone in the Extravagant series. I hope you enjoy a taste of this sexy, seductive world.

  If you want to be the first to learn of sales, new releases, preorders and special freebies be sure to Sign up for my VIP mailing list here!

  xoxo

  Lauren

  About An Extravagant Tryst

  A prologue…

  The night of the ball, I had one mission and one mission only. Find a most wicked man. Someone who’d bring me decadent pleasure, the likes of which I’ve never felt before.

  What I didn’t bargain on was how much pleasure I’d experience in that secret alcove of the masquerade -- more than I ever thought possible with my masked strangers.

  But when the clock hits midnight, I must go. Will I ever see my wicked men again?

  From #1 NYT Bestselling author Lauren Blakely, experience your first taste of The Extravagant series, a scorching, red-hot world filled billionaires, high stakes, and wild nights!

  1

  Sage

  Tonight, I am my opposite.

  First, I start with my makeup.

  I smooth on foundation, dust on powder, then set to work on my eyes. I turn them smoky, seductive, lined with black, winged at the corners.

  They’re cat’s eyes, and seeing them like this sends a dangerous thrill through me.

  A thrill I want to feel.

  This is not how I look in the boardroom. There, I am subtle, all beige and nudes, blouses and suits.

  After-hours, on nights like this, I become midnight and shimmer.

  Next, I run the mascara brush through my lashes, over and over, making them thick and long, and transforming them into a look-at-me style. When I’m done, I dip another brush into a shiny powder and slide the faintest dusting of glitter across my shoulders, making my skin glow with gold.

  I shiver, picturing lips on my shoulders, hands on my back, fingers on my waist. Briefly, I close my eyes, my imagination running wild, escaping to places I haven’t traveled in a long time.

  Visiting far-off lands rich with pleasure, and islands teeming with bliss.

  I open my eyes and let out a long exhale, settling back into the moment.

  Blush comes next, as I highlight cheekbones I’d never dare to make so noticeable during the day. Sure, the blush won’t be visible, but it’s necessary like this as I change from day to night.

  As I peer into the mirror, I check my reflection from the right, then the left.

  Do I look like the co-CEO of one of the premier hotels on the Las Vegas Strip? I ask that question to the woman in the mirror, and with a devilish grin, I answer out loud, my lips quirking up. “I better not look like the owner of The Extravagant, and I don’t think I do at all.”

  I run an old-fashioned silver brush through my hair, and the smoothing sensation gets me into character too. Everything about this evening belongs to a character.

  A character who craves.

  A character who didn’t crave for
a long time.

  Tingles rush through me as I slide further into the seductive world of make-believe, pinning up my blonde hair on one side, leaving it long and wavy down the back.

  Yes, this too is the opposite of my workday self.

  By day, I wear my hair up in a French twist or a low knotted bun. Those are my daytime styles because they say business.

  Tonight, I personify pleasure. Or at least the pursuit of it.

  That’s what I need desperately. Need it for my heart. Need it for my mind.

  And so I RSVPed to the invitation my friend Eliza sent me to a fundraiser for a local charity we both support, one that provides scholarships for female athletes who can’t afford college otherwise.

  You are cordially invited to a black-and-white masquerade. Elegant attire required. Don’t forget your mask.

  As if I’d forget my mask.

  The mask is my permission slip. The mask will let me be this other self, the one who’s only now discovering the delight of this late-night masquerade.

  And I’m nearly ready. But I need my good luck charm. My silver hair clip.

  I glide through my suite in The Extravagant, finding it on the marble coffee table in the spacious sunken living room, when there’s a rap on the door.

  Three raps, a pause, followed by two.

  It’s Eliza.

  Smiling, I head to the door, check the peephole, and nearly squeal when I see my friend.

  I yank open the door and gasp, the only suitable reaction to her costume. A white strapless dress clings to her trim frame, hugging her breasts, her waist, her hips, her thighs. The skirt stops at her knees, but the bustle flares out behind her all the way to the floor. The white dress is etched in black lace. A butterfly mask adorns her green eyes. She is a vision in black-and-white.

  “Guess who it is?” She’s all coy and playful, jutting out a hip.

  I tap my chin. “Hmm. Could it be the sexiest woman at the ball tonight?”

  She laughs, a smoky sound, as she sashays into my suite. “Flattery will get you everywhere. Except, well, my chariot. I gave Johnson the night off. Any chance we can use yours?”

  “Of course we can use my . . . carriage,” I say, letting the door fall shut behind her as I beckon her into the place she knows well, since we’ve been best friends for several years.

  As the door snicks shut, her eyebrows dance, and she waggles her fingers in my direction. I’m wearing only my underthings. “You do know ballroom attire is required, right? You’re not just showing up in your lingerie?” Eliza asks.

  I feign surprise. “No! Really? I thought a white lace bra-and-panty set would highlight my mask so perfectly. You think not though?”

  “Oh, well, if you’re aiming to complement the mask, then surely a bra made of feathers and a thong made of gems would be a better ensemble,” she says, faux serious as she flicks a strand of her chestnut hair.

  I cringe. “Ouch. That hurts just hearing it.”

  “Imagine wearing it.”

  I shake my head. “Never. Thongs should be abolished,” I say as we cross the living room, returning to my dressing room.

  “I’ll sign that petition. Hell, I’ll start the movement.”

  “You have my full support in the anti-thong crusade.” I gesture to my white lace bra. “But don’t worry. I have the perfect costume for the theme of the party.”

  Tonight’s masquerade ball is themed “Imagine,” something I’m particularly skilled at lately. My imagination is a fertile ground for so many things. “I just haven’t slipped into it yet. The hair always goes first. It’s a rule.”

  “You love your rules. You have rules for so many things,” Eliza says playfully.

  “And rules for fun are good too. Especially this one.” I stop in the dressing room and raise a making-a-point finger. “Always leave them wanting more.”

  Eliza nods, a wise look in her green eyes. “Those are indeed words to live by.”

  I peer into the mirror, then click open the silver hair clip with an inscription on the inside, reading it once more. Brilliant for brilliant. The words tug on my heart. They always do, from the very first time I wore this years ago.

  I slide the silver pin into the side of my hair, then clip it, loving the way it catches the light just so, loving, too, how it’s another way to remember those I love.

  “Gorgeous,” Eliza proclaims.

  “Thank you,” I say, and I want to feel gorgeous. I crave lushness.

  And lately, I’ve needed it.

  It’s become necessary to be able to live this life, to balance everything. To take over the reins of my parents’ hotel as I’ve done, and run the financials. To strike deals, to negotiate, to crunch all the numbers.

  The world I inhabit all day is oak and chrome, numbers and sums.

  For a while, that pin-striped, spreadsheeted world soothed the ache in my heart.

  Profit and loss statements were my balm.

  And they worked well enough.

  They helped me move on from the pain and grief, then from an unexpected heartache too.

  Now, I’m here. On the other side.

  So I’ve begun exploring a world at night beyond the boardroom. A party here, a party there. I’ve enjoyed a few evening fetes as an observer, donning a mask, a costume, and a new hairstyle. Going for a whirl on the dance floor in a ballroom, letting music and champagne whisk me away to another time, to the Renaissance, to Venice, to Victorian England.

  What wonders a party can work on a wounded heart.

  A party can play its part in mending the soul.

  “And now, perhaps for a little costume. Emphasis on little,” I say saucily to my best friend as I yank open the closet door.

  Her jaw comes unhinged as she surveys the shelves and racks glittering with gowns, dresses, and finery.

  “Girl, have you been buying out all the sexy costumes in this city?” She strolls in, checking out my walk-in wardrobe, filled with corset after corset, dress after dress. Vintage, Victorian, Venetian. Brocade, gothic, leather.

  What can I say? Dress-up has always been my thing.

  I bring a hand to my chest. “Moi? Would I do such a thing?” I bat my lashes.

  Rolling her eyes, Eliza shakes her head. “You? Never.”

  “Never say never,” I chide, as I run my fingers along a lacy number. “That’s another good rule to live by.”

  “Indeed, it’s an excellent one,” Eliza says.

  I shed my white bra, then grab the costume I picked for tonight. I remove it from the padded satin hanger. Stepping into the short skirt, I pull up the dress, adjust the folds of lush black satin and taffeta under it, then tug on the steel-boned corset. I suck in a breath and lace it up in the back, tie after tie.

  This is no easy feat, strapping myself in.

  But I’ve done it before, practiced it many times, and now I can tie up a corset solo. Skills—I’ve got ’em.

  Still, Eliza sets down her clutch with a tut. “Allow me, friend,” she says, moving behind me and giving a final tug on the ties in the back. “Some things require two sets of hands.”

  I glance behind me, casting her a naughty look. “Are those your words to live by?”

  She laughs, then lets go of the ties. “You know, I think if I were to have words to live by, that would be a damn guideline.”

  “I’ll consider adding it to my list.”

  “You do that.”

  Next, I adjust the slim shoulder straps, thin lace ones that barely cover my skin. The better to show off the shimmery gold powder.

  I add stockings next, gently rolling up the lace, then attaching the tops to my garters.

  Shoes come next—Victorian lace-up boots.

  I swivel around, waiting for the appraisal.

  Eliza whistles her appreciation.

  I curtsy.

  “I just have one question for you,” my friend continues as she gestures to my outfit. “How exactly do you plan on keeping the men at bay tonight?”

>   “Whoever said I’d be keeping them at bay?”

  “So you’re ready, then?” Her intense gaze penetrates my sassy side. “This time, you’re ready? You’re sure?”

  I swallow, thinking of why I’m ready, of how I’ve hurt. I nod, keeping myself together. “So ready.”

  She squeezes my shoulders. “Good, Cinderella. I know the last few times we went out, you were all about watching from the sidelines, checking out the scene. Now you can spread your wings, let them unfurl.”

  “This bird is aching to fly.”

  A smile comes my way. “That makes me happy to hear. And judging from the way you look tonight, you’re going to have many takers.”

  I eye her stunning attire. “And the same to you. I bet we’ll both be collecting numbers.”

  A soft smile curves her glossy lips as she shrugs, a little helplessly. “Too bad I have my eye on only one number.”

  I pat her arm, sighing sympathetically. “I know, Eliza.” Do I ever know? The man she longs for is all kinds of off-limits. Isn’t that often the way it goes with the ones we want the most? “Maybe tonight someone else will catch your fancy.”

  “A woman can dream.”

  Leaving my closet, I head to my jewelry box, selecting a delicate diamond choker.

  I slide it on, the metal cool against my warm skin. I fasten the clasp at my neck, admiring it in the mirror, the way the stones catch the light.