The Deal with the Billionaire Devil

TARA

What the hell am I even doing here?

 I asked myself a couple of times the moment I walked inside the venue. First, this wasn't my scene anymore. I left that life eons ago. Second, I felt too exposed even with the mask as everyone turned in my direction. Truth be told, it wasn't my fault.

 Apparently, the woman behind me barely covered her chest, exposing her voluptuous, round breasts. I envied her, though, compared to my B-cup size. But you'd do anything for a cause, even if you had to sacrifice something, like leaving my couch and the show I was binge-watching. So here was I, trying to embarrass myself before these strangers.

 The ballroom was spectacularly decorated in white, gold, and black. The orchestra played classical music in the corner. 

Some people might find a masquerade ball boring, but the donations could make a difference, considering that climate change was a real threat to human existence. Thinking of the greenhouse gases and ocean heat at record highs, it should be scary.

 As waiters circulated with drinks and Hors d'oeuvres. I snatched a champagne flute from the waiter, sipping a little just to wet my throat. Some guests moved to the center and started dancing.

 Yes, I could dance, which had been taught since I was a kid, but I tried hard to avoid mingling. I knew one or two of my people were here to support the Habitat Restoration Fund.

 As I stepped back, I accidentally bumped into a huge tree that had me gasping. At least that was what I felt, but the tree, apparently, had hands and a voice, holding me on my hips. 

So much for staying in the background.

My hand went to my chest as my heart hammered. 

 "I got you," said the man with a deep baritone voice.

 "Oh, my God." My face heated in embarrassment, and I almost dropped the champagne. I still spilled it, though.

 And I just caught everyone's attention, the very same situation I was avoiding.

I turned around and faced him. I was wearing four-inch heels, but he was still taller. My gaze barely reached his chin.

 The man's five o'clock shadow made his jaw prominent and strong. Those full lips spread to a cocky smile that looked soft and kissable, and a perfect set of white, straight teeth like he had a regular dental appointment.

 "I'm sorry. I wasn't careful where I was going." My accent thickened. I was nervous. Why was I even nervous?

 "I'm not," he said unapologetically. "Maybe we're meant to be."

 "Meant to be?" I chuckled. I was too focused on my apology that he already snatched the flute from my hand and gave it to the waitstaff. Then he held my hand, placing the other on his broad shoulder.

 "Dancing."

"Dancing?" I gasped a little as I felt his huge hand on my bare back, spreading heat through me, equal parts excitement and trepidation.

 "Just follow my lead." He must