Free MasterofSilk by Gia Dawn

forgot to breathe. Instead she turned and walked away, feeling
his eyes linger on her until she’d been safely secured in the backseat of his
car, missing his company with a desperation that made her want to cry.

Chapter Seven
     
    By the time the night of the fundraiser arrived Isabella
hoped she had everything planned, although the thought of all that could go
wrong was enough to keep her tossing and turning well into morning.
    She had decided to wear her hair in a simple knot at her
neck that could be taken down for her dance and easily put back up again. A
plain black dress and heels completed her ordinary attire and she had opted to
wear a galabeya dress for her costume, a one-piece gown and hip scarf in
traditional Egyptian style, which could be put on and taken off within a couple
of minutes.
    Her veil was a single swath of silk she attached to her hair
with a comb on top and then draped around her face. But the galabeya was
slit on either side most of the way up her thighs and her hip scarf jingled
with tons of coins and beads and bells.
    Stashing her costume in the trunk of her car—she had sternly
declined Zayne’s offer of his limo—Isabella sat behind the wheel and gave
herself a last look in the visor mirror. She had mostly recovered from the
nightmare of the week before—at least the dark circles beneath her eyes were
less noticeable beneath a layer of concealer and powder. Her makeup was simple,
as befitted Dr. Seda, but she had several pieces of stick-on rhinestones she
could use to add pop to her appearance during the performance.
    All in all, she was satisfied she could play both her
required parts that night with no one leaving any the wiser. Especially Zayne
Saladar.
    And after tonight they would be finished.
    Disappointment threatened to drown her completely as she
started the car and made her way across town. She had tried to find another
solution to the situation. When they’d had their last dinner together she’d
wanted to confess innumerable times but humiliation had made her mute in his
company. How do you admit to a comparative stranger that you dream of being his
slave forever and you will never find another man who knows just exactly what
you need in bed? Or that you deceived him and broke several ethical and
professional policies in the process and that you wanted so much more if only
he would give you a chance at a normal relationship?
    And he hadn’t made a single effort to contact her in days.
No calls, no texts, no risqué invitations. Well what had she expected—him to
fall to his knees and beg for Silk’s affection or woo the scarred Dr. Seda in
her place?
    Not in the real world.
    With her head held high she walked into the Gaston
Plantation restaurant, awed by the amount of local celebrities present. She saw
Ryan Marquis and his fiancée Alaina Winter drinking champagne with Manette
Brisson, who had a magnificent Asian American man on her arm. On the other side
of the room was a veritable throng of people she recognized as being born into
old Charleston money, who were listening to Zayne as if he’d cast a desert
spell upon them. Which he had. His voice was magic. She’d heard it often enough
to know.
    Music was already playing on the temporary stage as she
accepted a glass of wine from a passing server. She had worked with the band
before and they already knew Silk was dancing later in the evening. Satisfied,
she made her way to the elaborate buffet. Plenty of protein and vegetables ,
she noted in approval, grabbing a huge cocktail shrimp and dipping it in the
spicy sauce. Then she checked her watch, noting it was nearing eight and
wondering if Zayne had eaten yet.
    It took most of her willpower not to corner him and ask what
he’d had to eat and when, as though she had a personal right to the
information. So she made herself a plate instead, sitting in a corner where she
could continue to watch Zayne and his retinue.
    But as eight thirty rolled around with Zayne having