CHAPTER THREE
LILA
My watch buzzes. A sharp vibration against my wrist, reminding me that my heart is racing. But this isn’t panic fueling my adrenaline. It’s something else.Something forbidden. Something unknown.
“Streets” by Doja Cat pulses through the speakers, thickening the tension in the air and cloaking the sound of my entrance. I linger just beyond the doorway, concealed by the corner’s shadow, unnoticed.
Unlike the rest of the museum-like mansion, this bedroom oozes dark sexual desire but feels emotionally cold. Nothing about it suggests intimacy, only indulgence. It’s bathed in shadows, where elegance and darkness blend into something dangerously beautiful.
A towering black upholstered headboard dominates the space, its luxurious bedding a siren’s call, luring anyone reckless enough to sink into its embrace.On the nightstand, a crystal vase overflows with fresh, full, and almost too vivid red roses, which stand out against the moody palette.
Above the bed, a skylight allows a sliver of moonlight and stars to seep in, casting silver streaks across the silk sheets. Velvet curtains cascade in dramatic waves behind the bed, framing the space like a stage because that’s what this feels like.
A private performance. And maybe, for this moment… it is. This is a room built for pure seduction. A hideaway from reality.
And at the center of it all, a brunette bombshell, dressed in a slutty maid costume, kneels before a masculine silhouette. Her black-and-white lace mini skirt barely conceals the curve of her ass, and her dark brown curls bounce with each movement. I freeze.
What is she doing?
Is she okay?
Oh no… what is he doing to her?
I step closer, the shadows shifting, revealing the scene with sharper clarity.
His head tilts back, eyes closed, mouth slightly parted, his expression dripping with pleasure.
He is dressed as the Phantom from The Phantom of the Opera .
But his mask isn’t the usual plain white; it’s custom, extravagant, black, adorned with intricate gold roses.
It hides both eyes, most of his nose, and half his mouth, but leaves just enough to reveal the faintest curve of a dimple on the left.
Rich bastard. It’s probably real gold.
The mask conceals most of his face, deepening the mystery… but my eyes drift lower. Helplessly hungry. Hungry for more.
His white dress shirt hangs open, framing a bare chest that glistens with sweat under the flickering candlelight. His black vest is pulled back, like it’s been shoved aside, ready for what's to come next.
The tie around his neck loosened as if someone had tried to rip it off but gave up halfway. But it’s the ink that stops me cold. A tattoo sprawls across his chest… bold, dark, commanding. I can’t make out the design.
The lighting is too low. Too shadowed. But I see enough to know it’s not small. Not subtle. Thick lines curve over muscle, disappearing beneath his shirt like secrets hiding in plain sight. There’s something emotional about it.
Grief?
Sadness?
Pain ?
My eyes narrow, trying to piece it together, desperate for just a little more light. But the shadows are greedy, and the sweat sliding down his chest only blurs the lines more. Still, I can’t look away.
It moves with him as he shifts. My breath catches. Whatever the tattoo is… itmeanssomething. I can feel it.
His leather-gloved hand flexes at his side while the other grips the back of the brunette’s head, guiding her each and every controlled movement. My gaze drops, and my eyes widen. His black dress pants are resting at his ankles.
Damn, no underwear?
The realization slams into me, sending heat racing up my spine.
Shit... She’s giving him head… just my luck.
Lila, this is wrong. You need to get the hell out of here.
But I don’t move. My chest rises and falls in perfect rhythm with her movements. My legs are frozen, my shocked eyes lock onto the scene unfolding in front of me. Every part of meknowsI should turn away. Ishould leave. But the wetness pooling between my legs says otherwise.
No, no, no. This isn’t happening… not here, not now.
My tongue flicks out to wet my lips as I bite down on the corner of my mouth, heat rushing through me. I’ve never done that before. But God, I can’t stop imagining what it would feel like to do it to him.
My gaze trails along the sharp line of his jaw, the stubble only enhancing every perfect angle. My pulse quickens as I take in his veined arms and the way his neck muscles flex with every stroke she gives him. And the way his muscles tense beneath the sheen of sweat? It steals my breath .
A surge of need flares within me as I watch his body respond to her, but my body is responding to him.
His tall, dominating presence fills the room, swallowing the space, smothering me like he’s my personal sauna.
His dark, slicked-back hair gleams under the moonlight, and my entire body ignites with want.
Then he lets out a low, throaty moan. Deep and raw as his head falls back. And I feel it… everywhere.
He’s intoxicating .
Everything about this moment feels surreal. Dreamlike. Drawn into the seductive rhythm, I lose myself. My fingers move before I can think, tracing the softness of my lips, then dragging lower down my neck, over my breast, teasing along my curves before grazing my thighs.
What kind of person does this make me? Watching a stranger like this, letting myself be consumed by a need I can’t even understand. But my body doesn’t care about right or wrong.
It only wants him. Is this how far I’ve fallen? Deep down, is this really who I am?
The heat between my legs pulses, demanding attention. My fingertips skim the delicate ruffles of my skirt, dipping beneath the lace of my thong. Aster had insisted I wear something sexy tonight.“Just in case you get lucky,”she’d teased.
I’ll have to thank her later.
I caress the thin material, then slowly shift the thong aside as I slip my fingers in.
The teasing stroke against my clit sends a shiver through me, my body betraying every ounce of common sense I have left.
I don’t even realize I’m moving, thighs parting slightly, the pressure of my hand against the lace growing bolder .
Across the room, the Phantom throws his head back again, his Adam’s apple bobbing as another groan rumbles from his throat.
I surrender to seduction, my body no longer my own as I close my eyes and listen to his panting. My fingers slide lower, dipping into my wetness, exploring, teasing,
Until a soft-whispered moan slips past my lips.
I freeze.
The music thrums through the speakers, but time stops in my mind. The brunette is still lost in her task, unaware of my intrusion…
But he isn’t.
My gaze drifts up. And then I see them… Piercing through the shadows. Ice blue eyes locked onto mine. Watching me.