Cinderella After Midnight. Lilian Darcy

gripped her by the shoulders, rounding his hands softly over those warm, smooth knobs of muscle. Then he looked into her eyes as if he could hypnotize her into trusting him. All around them, dancers gyrated or spun, and colored lights swathed the darkness with their dazzling beams.

      “Catrina—and will you please damn well let me leave off the Lady!—you have to trust me!”

      “Why?” she demanded simply.

      “Because—because you have no choice, my lady,” he repeated, now with total confidence. He could see the logic of it in his head like a game of chess. “Either I’m a complete scum who’ll blow your cover to Wainwright because you won’t sleep with me tonight.” The wicked part of him made him add, “By the way, I’m right in that, aren’t I? You won’t sleep with me tonight?”