Lexi continued across the crowded room, taking in the sights and sounds as if she'd just arrived at the party. The stranger returned her smile before moving off. "Ce n'estpas grave," she assured him, the words rolling smoothly off her tongue.
Lexi smiled beneath the jeweled white mask that covered the upper half of her own face. Which meant that Lexi could be rubbing elbows with the likes of Miuccia Prada and John Galliano without even-Ī man in a feathered black mask suddenly jostled her, murmuring apologetically, "Excusez-moi." The glitzy soiree was the hottest ticket in France every year, attended by everyone who was anyone in the fashion industry. Lexi could think of no better way to celebrate than by attending a masquerade ball at a luxurious chateau owned by legendary fashion designer Asha Dubois. In half an hour the clock would strike twelve, ushering in a new year. Black, white, sequined and feathered masks everywhere Lexi Austin looked.Īs she waded through the crowd of revelers, excitement pulsed through her veins.
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