Chapter 35
Cal
I’m not sure what the fuck I think I’m playing at, wearing this mask when I’m supposed to be maintaining very clear boundaries around Aida tonight.
Those boundaries are, in a nutshell, not to behave like a fucking animal.
I had the Phantom mask all ready to go. It’s a winner—the previous times I’ve worn it to this event, women have gone feral for it. I suppose the Phantom was a dirty, repressed bastard with a kidnapping kink, so I get it.
But yesterday, on a whim, I Primed a shitty ten quid polyester balaclava, and when I tried it on this evening, it felt right.
I can’t say why. It felt... freeing. I’m not sure that’s a good thing when I’m supposed to be on my best behaviour, but when I saw Aida clock me, I knew it was the right call.
‘Did you recognise me?’ I asked her as I drew her over to the bar to get her a sharpener.
‘Not immediately, no,’ she admitted. Just as I suspected.
I, of course, recognised her at once. The gorgeous red dress that showed off her curves.
The killer legs. Strappy heels. That fucking mouth.
She looked expensive and classy and fuckable as hell.
But her expression didn’t change behind that intricate, red-feathered mask until I approached her, and I knew she was ogling my sexy Organised Crime persona and not Cal.
I still have major misgivings about her coming along to this fuck-fest, but I’ll admit the masked dress code is great for her. She doesn’t have to worry about everyone recognising her. When we go through, she’ll realise how liberating it is to hide behind a mask. How refreshing.
‘You ready?’ I whisper in her ear. We’ve finished our first drink and caught up with Gen and Anton, who look like they’ve just stepped off a fucking gondola or escaped from a Ferrero Rocher ad.
Both are groomed and glossy and dripping in designer threads with proper old-school Venetian masks on that Anton probably had flown over from a Venetian artisan on his jet.
There’s no sign of the others yet, but I like it that way. I want tonight to feel anonymous for Aida when we head next door. Having the place thronged with my mates won’t help.
‘Ready as I’ll ever be,’ she murmurs, and I watch those red lips move. Christ, she’s sexy. I take hold of her hand and brush my thumb over her knuckles.
‘I’ll be right there with you the whole time,’ I say. ‘We won’t get our room for another thirty minutes, but if you don’t like it next door we can come back out here till then, okay?’
‘Okay.’ She gives a curt little let’s do this nod.
‘You need a safe word,’ I blurt out. I should have thought of it earlier, because she definitely fucking needs one with me in this mood.
‘A safe word,’ she repeats. ‘Um, all right then. Shit, I can’t think of one.’
‘Don’t overthink it. It just needs to be something you wouldn’t usually say in bed.’
She purses her lips before answering. ‘Huh, that’s a pretty long list. Um, fine, what about… parliament.’
I laugh. ‘Parliament?’
‘Sure. I don’t plan on talking about our government institutions while we’re, you know.’
‘I should fucking hope not,’ I mutter. ‘Parliament it is. Nice job. That’ll definitely stop me in action if you say it.’
And with that, I lead her to the huge double doors of The Playroom.