“You can’t believe everything you hear these days, can you?” The woman’s voice drew closer behind him, followed by a soft, subdued ring of laughter. “And if I were to have that conversation, Mr. Matthews, I’d like to see it written into my calendar first—”
A small weight bumped L’zar’s back, and he tilted forward to keep his champagne from spilling.
“Oh, I am so sorry.”
He turned, the pull buzzing in his chest.
She laughed again. “I didn’t see you there.”
L’zar Verdys stared at the woman patting the back of her neck, dark curls piled atop her head. She wore a simple black cocktail dress and functional pumps, a string of pearls and matching earrings. Her blue eyes shone up at him above her hesitant, apologetic smile.
I found her.
“You didn’t…I didn’t spill your drink, did I?”
The drow blinked and raised the champagne flute toward her in an un-sipped toast. “Not a drop.”
“Oh, good.” Her eyelashes fluttered, and a small flush of color rose to her cheeks. “Have…we met before?”
Only in a future foretold.
L’zar smiled. “I would remember if we did. My name’s—”
“All right, Ms. Summerlin.” A man wearing a ridiculous top hat interrupted them and dipped his head at the woman. “I’ll have my secretary call your office and set something up. You look a little busy.” He winked and turned away without acknowledging L’zar’s presence.
“I look a little…?” She blinked and gave a startled giggle. “It’s a party. And I’m…I’m sorry.” When she looked up at L’zar again, her blush deepened. “You were about to tell me your name.”
“Leon Verdys.” L’zar offered his free hand, and he would have tossed the champagne flute behind him if that wasn’t sure to make them both the center of attention. That’s the last thing we need.
“Leon. You know, I’m very good with names, but I don’t remember yours. And you still seem so…” The woman licked her lips and shook her head, trying to clear it of the most robust sense of déjà vu she’d ever had. “Bianca Summerlin, Mr. Verdys. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”
The minute she slid her hand into his, the world might as well have stopped turning. A jolt of centuries-old certainty coursed through L’zar’s entire being, and Bianca Summerlin gasped.
“Did you…” She stared at their clasped hands, then cleared her throat. “Did you feel that?”
“Feels like the end of the world.” He didn’t let go.
“I’m sorry?”
“Y2K and all that. Right?” The drow smiled with a human face that was not his, then gently released her hand.
“Something like that.” She turned her head and studied him sidelong, then glanced at the champagne in his hand. “You’re not drinking?”
“I was about to. Then you found me.”
Bianca licked her lips, eyed him up and down, then lifted a hand toward the server coming by with another tray of champagne flutes. “I’ll join you.”
“I was hoping you would.”
Bianca went to step toward the server. Before she could do so, L’zar reached out and deftly plucked a champagne flute from the tray as the server walked past. The man strode on, oblivious to the bubbly’s weight having left his tray.
Bianca laughed when he handed her the drink. “Smooth.”
He lifted his flute and toasted her. “To new beginnings.”
“And hopefully not the end of the world.” They clinked glasses, and before she raised hers to her lips, L’zar took a brazen step toward her.
“You know, I’d almost given up hope tonight.”
“Oh?” Though she stared up at him without looking away, her breath hitched in her throat. “Hope for what?”
“That I’d find the perfect person to bring in the new year with.”
Bianca laughed and lifted her champagne flute higher. “That’s an excellent pickup line.”
“Only if it’s working.” L’zar took his first sip without breaking her gaze. Beneath his illusion spell, he was still a good six inches taller than her.
She peered up at him over the rim of her glass. Another breathless laugh escaped her. “I can’t believe I’m about to say this, Mr. Verdys—”
“Leon. Please.”
“Leon. It might be working. Your line, that is. But don’t let it go to your head.”
“I would never.”
“And I’ve had too much to drink.” Grinning, caught in the web of destiny ensnaring them, Bianca sipped her champagne. She nearly spilled it down the front of her dress when the mic squealed and the ballroom announcer’s voice cut through the end of the song.
“Dear friends, honored guests, and gracious benefactors, we are nearing the last minute of the century.” A screen lit up over the doorway to the ballroom. “Please join us in counting down to the new year and the beginning of a new millennium!”
A cheer went up around the room, followed by laughter and a round of freshly poured champagne making its way through the crowd.
L’zar bent toward Bianca’s ear and muttered, “You look nervous.”
“Oh, I do, do I?” She offered a polite laugh, but the returning blush gave her away. She didn’t lean away from his lips, which were nearly brushing her ear.
“I promise you don’t need to be nervous. Not tonight.”
She looked at him and blinked. “And what—”
“Ten! Nine! Eight!”
When L’zar winked, she looked away, only to down the entire glass of champagne in two gulps.
“Six! Five!”
“A night like this only happens once in a—”
“Century?” Bianca’s smile returned, fueled by the same unquestionable pull that had brought the drow thief from the confines of Chateau D’rahl all the way to the St. Regis. “That’s hardly an excuse to throw all caution to the wind, Mr. Ver…Leon.”
L’zar leaned closer. “But you are.”
“Three! Two!”
She was trapped in his gaze. “I…”
“One! Happy New Year!”
Amid the tinkle of cutlery chiming against crystal glass stems, the cheers and hoots, the laughter and uncorking of a dozen more champagne bottles, L’zar placed a hand on the small of Bianca Summerlin’s back and bent to press his lips against hers.
What little willpower she’d held onto after three hours of drinking with Washington’s political elite evaporated. The empty champagne flute slipped from her fingers and broke on the
