7. Mona #2
“Mona.” It’s breathy and fraught with emotion. This is it; he’s ending things. “You will never ever owe me a single thing. Ever. I will buy you the goddamn world and say thank you for letting me. These gifts, they are nothing.”
“They are everything,” I correct, feeling incredibly emotional. Overwhelmed that I might have ruined this sweet gesture. Vulnerable like I’ve been skinned alive. Petrified that whatever is brewing between us will come to an end.
“Baby, I’m so sorry they did that to you. Never. Never again will you be in a situation like that. I will make damn sure of it,” he promises.
And for some odd reason—maybe it’s because I’m pretty sure he’s the only person who’s ever truly cared for me—I believe him.
“I’m always here for you, Mona. And if you want to take things slower—”
“God, no,” I cut him off, wiping the tears from beneath my eyes. “No. I want all of the fantasies I told you. Please don’t hold back because I told you about those ... douchebags from my past. It would only make me feel worse.”
I can almost hear the smile in his voice when he says, “That’s my girl. Brave. Strong.”
“Starved,” I add, feeling my cheeks warm, like his gaze is somehow on me, skirting down my body.
“Oh, I’ll take care of that hunger; don’t you worry,” he exhales. “Now, come on. You have one more box to open.”
“Yeah.” I try to shake myself from the heaviness of the conversation when it suddenly dawns on me. “Wait, how do you know I have one left?”
His answer is fast—almost too fast. “You mentioned the boots, and there was a little jewelry box packed beneath it.”
“Hmm.” I let it go for now, knowing that even if he had cameras hidden in here, I wouldn’t care. Honestly, it would bring me a sense of security, knowing he’s watching over me. “One more. And then no more presents ever again.”
“Oof.” He clicks his tongue. “I absolutely cannot promise that.”
I roll my eyes and retrieve the small box, flipping the lid on the hinge. “No way.”
“Oh, way.” He chuckles, and I can’t help but giggle. “I know my girl doesn’t play when it comes to her crystals. And I noticed you didn’t have a necklace with one.”
“I wish I knew your name so I could whisper it over and over in disbelief.” The genuine opal necklace shifts in the light, catching fire. “It’s so beautiful.”
I lift it from its prison, unclasping it and putting it around my neck, letting it settle against my skin, hanging between my breasts and my collarbone.
“Thank you. For all of this. Seriously, it’s the best gift I’ve ever gotten.” I plop down on my bed beside the pile of new clothes and shoes, feeling like a princess in a fairy tale.
“Seeing you in that outfit tonight is my gift. And I can’t wait to unwrap it.”
Music is thumping throughout the house, and I’m starting to think that I should’ve emerged from my room long before now in case people are hanging out on the third floor.
I can’t hear any voices after pressing my ear to the door for a solid moment, so I’m about to throw caution to the wind and go for it.
Sliding my hand up the wall, I press the button, and the door clicks out of place. Go fast. And I do, slinking into the hallway and sealing the door behind me in one fell swoop.
Thankfully, the upstairs is empty, and I quickly make my way to the staircase and down into the chaos on the second, then first floor.
I don’t know where he is, if he's wearing his dark purple mask or something else entirely to take me by surprise. I’m hoping that when I see him, I’ll just know it’s him, regardless of his attire.
That’s exactly what happens.
I’m behind one of the large posts of the main staircase, slightly out of view from the front door, where a familiar mask is passing beneath the crown molding.
But he’s not alone, and the intimidating sight of his friends at his side sends a shiver down my spine.
Did they make them at a fucking factory?
Why are they all giant and ripped? And why are there so many of them?
I didn’t even know he was bringing friends.
Or that he even had friends. Although I don’t even know his first name, so I guess it’s not that crazy.
But still, apparently, I need to ask him more questions about his personal life.
The guy to his right is the only one with a date—a stunning redhead with her hair pulled back into a high ponytail. Their costumes match, although I’m not entirely sure what they are.
His mask is burgundy, with heart cutouts on the eyes, the craftsmanship reminding me of my masked haunting’s mask, with the same neon outline on the eyes. The girl’s mask is similar, but it only covers her eyes, the rest of her face and red-painted lips exposed.
It kind of makes me want a matching purple one with him. My gaze drifts back to him. His head is on a swivel, like he’s searching for me. I love that I’m hidden, like I’m the stalker this time.
I don’t want to waste the time I have to inspect him thoroughly, and, good God, it’s an impressive investigation.
His full torso is exposed, and I might have to take my Ghostface mask off to wipe the drool dripping off my chin. I knew he was ripped—I could tell when I felt his shirt—but, holy shit, seeing his physique in person is an entirely different experience.
I didn’t even know muscles could look that juicy and thick on a body before. Let alone on five guys’ bodies. I don’t have to look around the room to know they have everyone’s attention.
The other three guys are wearing off-the-rack Halloween masks, no shirts, and matching joggers in various shades of dark gray and black.
Tingles skitter across my shoulders as the realization dawns on me, satisfying a tickle in the back of my mind I’ve had since they walked into the room.
They look exactly like how I described cliche masked men to my masked haunting on the phone earlier—complete with the fake blood dripping down their firm pecs and mounded abs, disappearing into the dip of their V-lines.
The group of them look ridiculously hot, and I can’t stop staring at my guy, in awe that he’s mine at all. Hopefully, the fake blood is cherry-flavored and edible because I want to lick it off his body.
Someone shoves me from behind, and I’m launched into the entryway with no shot at avoiding the run-in with him. It’s not that I was avoiding it entirely, but I just needed a minute to take it in and regain my confidence.
“Hey, Scaredy-Cat.” He steps forward as I catch myself from toppling over, my face burning a thousand degrees.
When he reaches out for my hand, his muscles flex, giving me a good look at the detailed ink embedded in his arms. But before I can get a closer inspection, an idea bursts into my mind. I don’t overthink it or question it. I just act.
Hooking my fingers in the waistband of his gray joggers, I tug him toward me, feeling tiny in his shielded view. I roll up on my toes, my face still inches from his. “You want to fuck me, Spooky Boy?”
A mix between a grunt and a groan vibrates through him. “I mean, right here’s pretty public. But if you want to give the entire party a good show, I can’t tell you no.”
“Shut up.” I huff, glaring at him and hoping he can somehow feel it. “Play a game with me. I hide. You seek. Better hurry. Or I’ll have to find someone else.” Planting my hands on his bloody chest, I giggle and shove him backward, hearing his sexy chuckle break free.
“I’m taking my time when I catch you, so I hope you know what you’re starting because we will be finishing it.” He catches my wrist, pulling me back in. He lowers his voice so deep that it rattles my bones. “Careful what you wish for.”
“Oh, I know what I’m doing.” I pull my wrist from his grasp and drag my finger down the middle line of his chest. “Do you?”
I absolutely don’t, but I want to bring the darkest, most depraved side of him out to play, and I have a feeling this will work wonders. A feeling that he quickly proves right.
A terrifying chuckle vibrates against my finger, now resting above one of his abs. The eeriest singsong voice sends shivers down my spine as he reaches out and spins a strand of my hair around his finger, his mask only an inch from mine.
“Run, run, run, Scaredy-Cat.” His voice lowers into an almost growl, dropping the musical rhythm as he continues, “Go and hide. You have a three-second head start, and then you’re all mine.”
Spinning on my heel, I take off, weaving through the gathered crowds and swarm of people mingling the night away.
Oh no, a hot masked man is chasing me. What is a girl to do? Maybe I should take my clothes off and throw them at him—to try to trip him up, obviously.