“You know, I was going to leave,” the guy starts, and his gaze drifts down to his fingers where they brush against my knee. His eyes snap back to mine. “But then I saw you. And I suddenly changed my mind.”

My heart flutters from the way he’s staring into my eyes, making me feel like I’m the only person in the room. “Then I guess it’s a good thing I ran into you.”

“Literally,” he adds, and we share a hushed laugh as the bartender slides our drinks to us.

The mystery man takes his and raises it with one hand, so I lift mine and clink it against his. Then he leans closer to me, letting his mouth hover over my neck. He’s so close that I can hear his breathing, feel it on my skin.

“To chance encounters,” he whispers, and I shiver.

“To chance encounters,” I agree, and the masked man pulls away with a smile. I gulp down a healthy sip of the whiskey sour just to collect myself, and hum in satisfaction at the wonderful way it tingles on its way down.

“I never introduced myself, by the way,” he says after taking a sip of his own drink. “I’m⁠—”

“Wait.” I lift a hand, my pulse picking up a little as I interrupt him. “Let’s… let’s not do real names. This place is all about being free and letting go, so for tonight, why don’t you just call me… Isabelle.”

His lips twitch upward, his eyes glinting with something I can’t quite name as he nods. “Okay. Then you can call me James.”

“Nice to meet you, James.”

“The pleasure’s all mine, Isabelle.” The way he says the fake name makes it sound like he’s savoring it, and I almost wish I could hear him say my real name in that way.

The man watches my every move with focused attention, his amber-flecked eyes seeming to take in every detail as they gleam in the flickering light from a nearby candelabra on the bar. Anticipation of what’s looming between us makes my nerve endings light up, my body hyper-aware of his proximity. But he takes a sip of his drink and sets it on the bar, temporarily breaking the tension.

“So,” he says slowly, “tell me about yourself.”

I meet his gaze over the rim of my glass, giving him my best flirty look. “What do you want to know?”

“What do you do?”

“I don’t want to talk about any of that tonight,” I answer, a bit too quickly. Then I add, “It’s too much… reality for a place like this, don’t you think?”

The masked man smiles and nods. “I see what you mean. Okay, then tell me something else about yourself. Something like…” He pauses, considering. “What would be your perfect day? Describe it to me.”