Who's Crying Now, Ex-Husband?

Chapter 505

She had no idea who the man was.

But one thing was certain-he wasn't Forrest.

Mila's first thought was that he was probably another one of the young men her great-aunt had invited, hoping to set her up. Whoever he was, his presence was unsettling. Without hesitation, she shook her head in refusal.

But as soon as she did, a hand closed tightly around hers.

In the next instant, the stranger yanked her into his arms and swept her straight onto the dance floor, sending a flurry of rose petals skittering across the polished wood.

Mila's eyes went wide in shock.

She could hardly believe someone could be so brazen at a formal ball. Hadn't he seen her refuse? How could her great-aunt possibly think this man was suitable?

Her body responded out of habit, following the first few steps of the waltz so she wouldn't embarrass herself in front of the crowd, but as soon as her mind caught up, she began to struggle. It was useless-the man's grip was unyielding, his strength almost frightening. Gritting her teeth, she hissed in a voice only the two of them could hear:

"Let me go!"

Couldn't he tell she didn't want to dance?

But the man said nothing. His gloved hand settled firmly at her waist, guiding her through the music as if her resistance meant nothing.

Enough was enough. Mila stopped caring whether she made a scene. She slammed her heel down onto his foot and ground it in, her voice icy and low: "Let me go!"

But before she could react, his hand tightened around her waist, and in a sudden, dizzying motion, he lifted her effortlessly off the ground, spinning her through the rest of the dance. Her black chiffon dress fluttered as though she weighed nothing at all he didn't even need her cooperation.

A chill shot through her.

She didn't know why, but a wave of panic crashed over her, a sharp sense of déjà vu that left her breathless. As her body pressed against his, she caught the overwhelming scent of roses in the air-but beneath it, so faint she almost doubted herself, was a trace of cold sandalwood.

heart hammered in her throat, her blood running

Impossible.

was no way

No way.

tightly she could barely breathe. Her body was rigid against his, ice creeping into her veins. All the half-formed suspicions she'd forced herself to ignore suddenly crashed into reality, shattering every defense

Fear won out.

farther and farther away, leaving only the ghastly white mask before her-a mask streaked with blood-red tears. The empty,

She couldn't move.

time the music faded, Mila was slick with cold sweat, her back

off the dance floor before panic jolted her awake.

he was, she couldn't let him

glanced back at her. Beneath

not to look away, staring straight into those abyssal eyeholes, fighting down the terror and confusion churning inside

Is it you?

Suddenly, he raised her hand, lifted the edge of his mask to reveal a sharp jaw and cool, thin lips, and pressed

as cold and soft as

scalp prickled. That kiss-down to the exact spot-was identical to the one Forrest had

slammed against her ribs, her temples throbbing. The possibility hammered at her so hard she nearly lost her grip on

Is it you?

before she could act, the man released her hand, reached up, and plucked the pink-and-white rose

rooted to the spot. Just

"Mimi?"

the ringing in her ears, she

Stunned, she turned.

in a jet-black suit embroidered with silver thread, a vivid red tie at his throat, and a black mask edged in gold. The colors were

made her shrink back

again, his voice tender, cutting through the static in