The Billionaire Gets His Way by Elizabeth Bevarly

cherubs peeking over the clouds. The walls on three sides were papered to look like luscious gardens, and the fourth was composed of arched, beveled windows that looked out onto a massive courtyard below. Violet had just enough time to look outside and see that it was as beautifully landscaped as the wallpaper gardens were, lit by torchieres and candles, since some of the partygoers had spilled out there to chat and smoke.
    Then Gavin was dragging her toward the group of people whom he’d deemed it so necessary must see them together. She figured out why immediately, since three members of the group were drop-dead beautiful women, all of them sporting form-fitting dresses of eye-popping color and gemstones that Violet was reasonably certain were real—and she wasn’t talking real cubic zirconium, either. She had thought Gavin would simply walk right up and insinuate himself into the conversation, so it took her by surprise when he stopped a good fifteen feet away from them, removed her champagne from her hand to place it alongside his drink on the tray of a passing waiter, then swept her into his arms and began to dance.
    It took him by surprise, too, since she had no ideahow to dance, something that became obvious when she immediately brought her foot down on top of his—hard.
    â€œOuch,” he muttered, halting at once. He glared at her. “Why the hell did you do that?”
    â€œWell, I didn’t mean to. You might have warned me that you wanted to dance.”
    â€œHalf the people in the room are dancing. Why would you need a warning for that?”
    She didn’t want to tell him it was because she didn’t know how to dance. She was suddenly embarrassed to be at a party like this, in a place like this, surrounded by people like this, and have no idea how to perform any of the customs that were a part of this world. She was already keenly aware of how much more stylish the other partygoers were, and she was confident none of them had stopped by Talk of the Town to rent a gown before coming. The way they smiled and chatted with each other, it was obvious they all knew each other—or at least knew of each other. Even their posture and the way they walked and sipped their drinks was different from the way normal people—people like Violet—performed such tasks.
    She was so out of place here, in a house like this, with people like Gavin. This might be the sort of thing she wrote about in one of her books, but her fictional version was nothing compared to the real thing. At least, in her fictional version, her characters—people like her—found some way to feel at home and be a part of things. The reality…
    â€œViolet?”
    Gavin’s voice brought that reality crashing on her like a ton of ill-fitting dresses and cheap rhinestone jewelry. She remembered then that he’d tried to dance with her, and she’d failed abysmally, and now he wanted a reason why.
    â€œWhat do you need, sweetheart, an engraved invitation?”
    She sighed softly. “No, but a few lessons would help.”
    Her admission seemed to take him by surprise. His dark eyebrows arrowed downward. “Are you telling me you don’t know how to dance?”
    â€œNot this kind of dancing. Not where your bodies have to touch.”
    He opened his mouth to say something, but no words emerged. Then, after a moment, he closed it again. Once more, he took her hand in his, but this time, he led her in the opposite direction from which they’d been traveling. He didn’t stop until he’d led her into a small alcove off the ballroom that led to a broader passageway beyond. There, he stopped, dropping one hand to Violet’s hip, holding the other up at his side at chest level.
    When she did nothing but stare at him, he expelled an impatient sound, wiggled his fingers as if waving at her, and instructed, “Take my hand.”
    â€œWhat about all those people in the other