Free A Deceptive Attraction: The Wilsons, Book 3 by Alicia Roberts Page A

vowed not to make the same mistake ever again. She stepped into the shower and got herself ready to go out on the town.
    As she emerged from the apartment building, she saw a town car waiting at the curb.
    “Car’s for you, Ms. Wilson,” the doorman said. “Sent by a Mr. Girard.”
    Violet was pleased. She used taxicabs as her primary mode of transportation. Usually they were fine, but they were noisy and not always the cleanest. With a cab you never knew what you might get. The town cars were run by a limousine service and were much more pleasant for riding to a gala event.
    The doorman helped her into the car and she settled in for the ride back to the hotel.
    ***
    Leon emerged from the shower in the master bath of the suite and toweled himself dry. He noted with a grimace that Hugh had called him and left a message.
    While he put on the various pieces of his tux, he considered whether to return his partner’s call. The evening’s work really was routine, no matter what bizarre ideas the American might have in his muddled head. Hugh would work the crowd, using the contacts in the investment world that Leon had been obtaining for him over the previous months. Leon would introduce Hugh to new prospects, and when enough alcohol had flowed, the chubby little American would dispense some unsolicited trading advice and provide an anonymous phone number. More often than not, human greed took it from there.
    All this was well and good, thought Leon, except that Violet was one of their prospects.
    Even before he had met her, he had told Hugh it was a dumb idea. Violet Wilson wasn’t a trader, and in Leon’s eyes she was much too far from where the action was to have any influence. But Hugh had insisted, and stupidly, Leon had gone along with it. Now it was too late for him to back out.
    Or was it?
    Leon fastened the white cummerbund of the tux and knotted the black bow tie, leaving Hugh’s message to wink away on his cell phone like a ship passing in the night. They would see each other soon enough.
    When the phone rang again, it was the front desk notifying him that the town car had arrived. Pocketing his wallet and phone, he made his way to the lobby, anticipating with pleasure his upcoming evening in Violet’s company.
    The driver opened the door and he got in next to Violet. “Mon cherie,” he murmured and planted a quick kiss on her lips, taking care not to disturb her lipstick. “My God, you look absolutely stunning.”
    “Merci,” Violet said, lowering her lashes down over those enormous blue eyes that already were haunting his dreams at night. “And where are you taking me this evening, Monsieur Girard?”
    “To the stars, my dear, to the stars.” When Violet looked quizzically at him, he said, “Actually, to the Edison Ballroom here in Midtown.”
    “That will do,” Violet said, “if the stars aren’t within reach.”
    “Ah, but they are,” Leon said. He banished the thought of Hugh and his job from his mind, put his arm around Violet, and pulled her close to him for the rest of the ride, as if he was afraid she would get away from him.
    They arrived at the ballroom and the driver let them out. Inside the hall, the big lighted ball spun, casting tiny lights around the dance floor, and the band was already warming up. Leon found them a table in the back where it was quieter. When the waitress arrived, he ordered a gin and tonic for Violet, along with a club soda for himself.
    “No party for Leon tonight?” Violet inquired.
    “I’m afraid not,” Leon replied. “I had to take some medication.”
    It wasn’t a lie, he thought to himself. He had taken a sedative yesterday as soon as he learned that the bus would be going to the Rockefeller Center. It just hadn’t taken effect quickly enough to keep him from having a panic attack.
    No, his reason for not drinking was merely dishonest as hell. The medication was absolutely not the reason he was abstaining from alcohol this evening.
    He wasn’t