Read Easy Virtue for Free Online

and I hate it. I tighten my hold on the crystal flute. I want to look away, but I can’t. The way he’s staring at me makes me want to squirm.
    “I wonder … do you have one?” he asks softly before turning to examine the piece of jewelry once more.
    “A what?” I ask, momentarily stunned.
    He smiles. “A price.”
    “For the right amount … I just might,” I say quietly, my heart beating so fast it feels as though it wants out of my chest. As soon as the words leave my mouth, there’s no shock coursing down my body, no rolling waves of shame pulling me down for having said that to a complete stranger—nothing.
    And why should there be? I am who I am.
    I’m staring at his profile, waiting for him to acknowledge my answer, when a breeze of cool air floats past us, making me shiver. About to chase the goose bumps on my arm with my hand, I watch as he slowly turns to look at me, catching me staring at him. Time stands still as I watch him raise his large tanned hand and touch my bare shoulder, his fingertips lightly grazing the temporary small bumps covering it. Then he smiles as if he knows that my skin is tingling from his scalding touch, and looks away.
    “I thought so.”
    We remain standing next to each other for another minute or so, the distance between us almost nonexistent. It would be so easy to reach out and hold his hand. The sound of an incoming call breaks the silence, bringing us back to reality.
    He takes his cell phone out of the inner pocket of his tuxedo jacket and ignores the call after noting the name of the caller. He lifts his gaze to meet my own.
    “Sorry about that.”
    “It’s okay. I should go … I’m here with someone,” I reply, not really wanting to leave him just yet.
    “Yes, that’s probably a good idea.”
    I frown. He didn’t have to be quite so blunt. The stranger extends a hand toward me, holding something in his fingers.
    “Here … ”
    I open my hand as I feel the edges of what I assume is his business card poke the skin of my palm. “What’s this?” I ask stupidly.
    “My business card, of course.”
    “Obviously … but why?”
    He smiles, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. “Let’s just say that I’m an interested buyer.”
    And then he’s gone.
    He turns and walks away from me, disappearing into a sea of colorful gowns and black suits. As the sounds of the party infiltrate my ears once more, I lower my gaze to stare at the simple cream-colored card in my hand. Its simplistic and elegant design draws attention to the name printed in bold black letters on the paper.
    Lawrence Rothschild.
    I smile and let my fingertips trail his name. It depends on what you’re willing to pay, Mr. Rothschild.

    I’m still reeling from my encounter with the stranger when I spot Walker standing in the same place and with the same crowd as before. I run a hand through my hair nervously as I try to quiet the voices inside my head. Should I go back? Will I see him again? Afraid that I’ll turn around and go in search of Mr. Rothschild because, let’s face it, I’m fickle, I decide to join Walker and his friends.
    Eyes on me, gazes filled with admiration or disapproval, it doesn’t matter one way or another—I’m untouchable. It also doesn’t change the fact that they can’t look away from my body exposing itself through the thin layer of lace that covers every decadent inch of pale skin.
    Walker looks my way, his ice-blue eyes finding mine and darkening with ravenous desire. We smile at each other. We can’t look away. We fuck each other with our eyes while filthy images of his cock and where I want it flash through my mind. Dirty, so dirty. Gradually, I observe a smug smile as mouthwatering as the sweetest of sins spread across his face and it makes me feel like I’m flying. Yet, as I close the distance between us … as the buzzing of voices gets louder in my ears … as I grow wet with the promise of his taste on my tongue …
    I decide not to throw Mr.