Chapter 56

“Quit bitching,” I retorted, handing him a glass of champagne. “Nobody can tell who you are under that mask.”

Even with the black hood over his entire face, John had nearly refused the costume. While the original executioner had worn a tunic over his pants, John’s regalia was missing that item—and I’d substituted a black leather harness. He looked like a leather daddy lumberjack with the fake axe from our props department slung over his shoulder.

“Now.” I pretended to survey the crowd. There were certainly enough hot cubs in attendance. If I’d been serious about this little game, I’d have had a tough time choosing just one. “Let’s see who I want you to take to that romantic honeymoon suite for a night of unbridled passion.”

John snorted. His skepticism was somewhat marred by the fact that he had to slap yet another hand off his chest. The cubs liked what they were looking at. This made the fifth slap that I’d counted since we’d come in. And I wasn’t really counting.