The Allure of Julian Lefray (The Allure #1)(3)

“Name?” the event coordinator asked in a clipped tone as I approached the front of the line.

“Josephine Keller.”

She scanned down her clipboard, using a small penlight to illuminate a giant list of names. I saw a few surnames starting with K but she scanned over them, flipped the page, flipped another one, and then flipped back to the front.

“I don’t see it, next please,” she said, uttering the very words that had been my worst nightmare in the days leading up to the event.

I broke out in a cold sweat immediately.

“There must be a mistake,” I said, holding up my rolled invitation—which now looked like I’d nabbed it from someone’s curbside trashcan. Dammit.

I could hear the annoyed people muttering behind me in line, but I didn’t dare turn around and show my face.

“Just step aside for a moment,” the event coordinator said, turning on a radio attached to her shoulder strap and using it to summon an assistant to the front entrance.

This would be my luck. I was this close to really taking my career to the next level and then life decided to give me an ol’ “not so fast, sister” slap in the face. Life is an evil bitch sometimes.

For ten minutes I stood to the side of the line, beneath the hotel awning, fidgeting from one heel to the other as guests rattled off their names and were ushered inside without a hitch.

Five more minutes and I’ll leave.

Five minutes came and went and I stayed, growing more mortified by the second. Where the hell is her assistant? I made it a point to keep my face mostly hidden so that no one would recognize me inside as “that poor girl from the outer borough”.

Finally, a petite blonde dressed in simple black slacks and a matching button-down ran through the front door clutching a clipboard with wide eyes and a frazzled look.

“Madeline!” the event coordinator snapped as soon as the blonde came into sight. “Check to see if there’s a—” the event coordinator paused and turned to find me standing a few feet away. “What was your name again?”

“Josephine Keller,” I answered, trying my hardest not to look past the coordinator. Everyone in line had turned in my direction to see what the commotion was about.

“I’m sorry. I couldn’t hear that,” Madeline replied, looking like she was on the verge of tears.

That’s because I whispered it, you hard of hearing whore. Please stop drawing attention to me.

I coughed and took a step closer. “Josephine Keller.”

Madeline nodded and got to work, flipping through her notes.

“Just a second,” she said.

I was crossing my fingers behind my back, repeating the phrase “Please find my name, please find my name,” over and over again in my head, when I looked up and met the eye of a man standing in line.

My gut clenched.

HOLY GUACA-DO ME.

He was third from the front of the line and watching me with a bemused smile. Where all the other stares had been easy to ignore, his devoured my attention to the point of discomfort.

I swallowed slowly as I scanned over him. Handsome only brushed the surface. He was a vision in black. He had everything down to a T: a fitted tuxedo, silver cufflinks, and impeccably polished designer shoes. His arms were crossed over his chest and his wide shoulders blocked out the streetlamp behind him so that he seemed to glow against the bustling backdrop of limousines and hotel attendants.

I let myself glance over him for three intense seconds and then forced myself to look away.

Enough.

I’d stared too long.

But he’d been staring back.

I forced myself to watch Madeline scan through the list of names until the line moved forward again. I peered up from beneath my lashes, using the opportunity to see him one last time before he went inside and disappeared into the crowd forever.

I tried to memorize every feature as quickly as possible. His black hair was thick and styled flawlessly, a bit shorter on the sides with a smooth wave on top. His cheekbones were so defined that Webster’s surely had an entry for them. As he spoke to the guests in front of him, a permanent pair of dimples framed his cheeks. His jawline was sharp, clean-shaven, and inexplicably alluring.

I watched him for another moment before he finally detected my stalker-stare and turned my way.

Hazel eyes locked with mine and I froze as my world slipped right out from under me.

“Ah! Josephine Keller! I finally found you,” Madeline exclaimed. “Someone put your name down as ‘Josephine Geller’.”

Typical.

“Okay,” she said, offering me a relieved smile. “Right this way.”

I followed behind her as she beckoned me toward the hotel doors. I knew the man’s gaze was following me as I stepped past him. I could feel his eyes on me, heating my cheeks to a cruel, rosy blush that I prayed he couldn’t see.

“The step and repeat is there to the left,” she said, pointing to a small section of the hotel lobby where a few celebrities were getting their photos taken by the paparazzi. “And the ballroom is just beyond the lobby.”

I glanced past the black marble floor to where she was pointing.

I could see a glimpse of the party, hear the pulsing music streaming out, and smell the delicious hors d’oeuvres sweeping into the room.

For better or for worse, I’d arrived.