A past I run from, a mistake I can’t forget, and the man I never stopped loving…

Years ago, I lost him.

I was young, reckless, and stupid enough to think love would wait. But Bill Carson had dreams bigger than me, and I was too scared to reach for something real. So I walked away.

Now, I’m lost in Mardi Gras—draped in silk, drowning in champagne, and playing pretend with people who don’t really see me. Until a man in a black mask stops me cold.

One glance. One knowing smirk.

And then he speaks… and I know.

It’s him.

But he’s not the college boy I left behind. Bill is powerful now—rich in ways I can’t even fathom. The kind of man who commands a room without trying. The kind of man I have no business wanting.

I should walk away again.

But then he kisses me… and suddenly, I can’t remember a single reason why I should.

I tell myself it’s just one night. Just a stolen moment in the chaos of Mardi Gras. But the more time I spend in his arms, the more I realize I was a fool to let him go.

Because this time, he’s not the one who’s leaving.

I ran from him once… but now I’m running out of reasons to reject him.

Nadia

A heavy air of Mardi Gras hung in the air, thick with the smell of stale alcohol, and yet unlike in the past, I felt no excitement. I was twenty-three, with seemingly endless funds from my credit card, yet no job to speak of.

My two best friends chattered with the familiar enthusiasm I knew so well, but when Zoey mentioned the words “college”, it hit me like a ton of bricks, and my heart sunk into my stomach. The memories came flooding back: the late-night study groups, the hurried mornings of grabbing coffee between classes, and the buzz of excitement that seemed to linger in the air. Most of all, I remembered Bill, who had seen me in a different light than anyone else. The thought of those days made me ache with longing.

“Remember back in college how you flirted with the taco guy?” She asked me, her voice bright and her eyes twinkling with a hint of mischief. Bill had hated me when I’d rejected him, but unlike me, he had his whole future ahead of him, and the ambition to make it happen. The only time I ever enjoyed life was when I was running some charity event. I clenched my jaw, the anger rising in my chest. I glared at her and stood abruptly, my chair scraping against the hardwood floor. “Why are we talking about college again?” I said, my voice heavy and low.

Madison’s lips puckered into a pout as she begged me to join the festivities. I gave her a reluctant nod, a mask of complacency cloaking my reluctance. Zoey held up a pink silk mask, the color of strawberry candy. I reluctantly took it and tied it around my face before entering the hotel bar.

The room was ablaze with energy, and I moved through the crowd like a wisp of smoke. I shifted my gaze to the golden bar encased in faux jewels, and settled myself upon the seat beside a mysterious figure wearing a black mask. Ignoring him, I called out to the bartender, “Champagne!” The liquid bubbled and ran down my throat, bringing with it a thrill of anticipation.

The stranger’s deep, steady tones sent a shiver down my spine. When I raised my eyes to meet his, I was startled by the deep amber gaze that had a sense of home that peered back at me. His strong jaw flexed as he gave me a knowing smile. “Why not opt for a Hurricane, Red Snapper or Mardi Gras Flasher – all drinks that get you into the spirit of the season,” he said, his voice dropping low. I could have sworn I’d felt those lips before – like a reminder of something forgotten.

The stranger’s deep tones reverberated in my ears, “You’re not getting the local flavors?” he queried. When I glanced up into his brown eyes, I wondered if I’d met him before. My heart beat in anticipation as I said, “What drink should I get?”

He shrugged and a knowing smile spread across his face. “Why not opt for a Hurricane, Red Snapper or Mardi Gras Flasher – all drinks that get you into the spirit of the season.”

My nose scrunched up at the thought of drinking rum; The last thing I needed was to wake up with a pounding headache in the morning. “I’m not into rum and the like though,” I explained.

He gestured to the bartender, his smile twinkling with mischief. “Princess is sticking to champagne,” he declared as he turned to me, his eyes sparkling with challenge.