Chapter 32 Masks #2
His vodka was getting warmer by the minute, but he didn’t mind.
The thought of alcohol didn’t sit right with him anyway tonight, Anika still lingering in the back of his mind.
Cristiano had slipped off with a couple of other friends, and if he had to guess, they were playing drinking games out in the elaborate sunroom.
While wandering through the house, Mikko took his time looking past the Halloween decor and digesting the curated art hanging on the walls.
Many were one of a kind pieces speaking to Weston’s taste and bank account.
Beyond that there were sculptures and statues decorating the halls, some made of marble, others made of bronze.
He’d even stumbled across a couple of knights’ armor, their pieces and parts polished in the candlelight.
It was a beautiful distraction from the loud music and rowdy crowd downstairs.
And it was a collection his mom would’ve loved.
Brushing a gloved finger over the marble forearm of a statue in one of the many halls currently strung with orange and purple lights, Mikko admired the craftsmanship.
“Please tell me this city is bigger than I think it is,” a feminine voice spoke from behind him. His hair prickled, her proximity undeniable.
Turning slowly, Mikko faced Anika with his helmet cocked in curiosity.
As soon as his eyes landed on her, his chest clenched. Every thought that had her in it, came rushing to the forefront of his mind. His mind whirred, stuttering like a bike chain seconds away from derailing itself. He swallowed.
And her Halloween costume didn’t help.
A navy jumpsuit clung to her figure, the zipper running up the front showing ample cleavage that had Mikko clutching his plastic cup tighter.
Fuck.
Leather fingerless gloves covered her hands and ended below her elbow. Cheap silver grommets and buckles decorated them. A flimsy belt modeled from similar material slung low on Anika’s hips, a baton and handcuffs holstered there.
His dick was paying attention, more than he’d fucking like.
A black garter gripped her thigh, its purpose for a toy gun, but all it did was squeeze the lush meat of her thigh, making his mind wander while he stared, imagining sinking his teeth there. Knee high boots and a police hat sitting crooked on her head in a maddeningly cute way completed the outfit.
“No real gun?” he asked, words finally forming on his tongue. “I’m disappointed.”
“Consider yourself lucky.”
“Oh?” he set his nearly full drink down on the plinth of the statue hovering above him before stepping closer with his hands raised in mock surrender. “You’re saying you’d shoot poor, lil’ ‘ole me?”
“Wouldn’t think twice, actually.”
“Has anyone told you that you don’t think at all?” He said it to piss her off knowing the opposite was true. Her fingers played absentmindedly with the handcuffs at her waist, annoyance swirling in her eyes.
God, what I’d do to have those cuffs bite into my skin right now…
“Then you’d be appalled to hear I’ve been thinking about you,” Anika muttered dryly.
He cracked a smile she couldn’t see behind his helmet. “Sounds scandalous. Do tell me more.”
Click.
She unhooked the handcuffs and his heart thrashed in his chest. “Seems like police brutality always works in your favor, so why don’t I give it a try.”
“A typical Friday night for me, malyshka.” Mikko didn’t make a move to step away, sharp eyes tracking her every movement from behind his visor.
“Is coming all over someone’s things a part of that routine too?
” She stopped an arms length away, smiling with faux saccharine sweetness.
“Although Levi bought me a whole new collection of cosmetics to make up for it.” His gloved fist flexed.
“And since you sign off on his paychecks, should I also be thanking you for the eight hundred dollars worth of items he bought?”
“Oh? I suppose my gifts aren’t even worthy of being mentioned?” She sneered at his words. “I guess it’s good to know he’s putting my money to use.” His eyes hardened. “Goes to show he’d be nothing without me.”
“Daddy Alek’s ideals really have been ingrained into your pea brain, haven’t they? But that can be fixed with training.”
Mikko scoffed, his brain fixating on the word daddy and how it sounded coming from her lips despite his best efforts. “This outfit is giving me other ideas.”
Rolling her eyes, she let him visually drink in his fill before talking again. “Took a page out of your book,” she taunted, “and decided to play cop for a night. You can ask Ivan how well that went for him…”
It was the first time she’d admitted to it, even slightly. Mikko pushed on. “The city is the safest it’s ever been,” he mocked. “Especially without Ivan.”
“That’s cold.” She twirled the fake handcuffs around her pointer finger while he shrugged. “But it’ll be even more safe once I put you away too.” Her glare was obvious, dark makeup allowing her molten eyes to flash in the light.
“And just where do you keep your prisoners, miss officer?”
“My basement.”
God, I’m gonna lose it.
He’d go with her willingly, let her tie him up and do whatever as long as she was there to accompany him.
With his helmet in place, he was able to trace the outline of her figure as she stood there unaware of his stare. Images flooded his mind, his fingertips grazing her warm skin, goosebumps rising to meet his touch. The scent of her soap clinging to him for days. The way she’d moan under his to—
“There you are,” Levi said, appearing from behind her, his breaths slightly short as if he’d searched everywhere for her. “I was looking…” he met Mikko’s menacing gaze beyond the tinted panel of his visor and trailed off. “Oh.”
Mikko waved his fingers coyly in hello, but his jaw was tight with annoyance. An orange jumpsuit covered Levi’s body, the word “prisoner” stamped across his chest.
Classy.
“Care to introduce me to your friend,” Levi spoke first.
“Oh? You don’t recognize your own boss, Mikko?” Anika asked. Her knowing smile made it feel like she was toying with them.
“Uh, I—” Levi stumbled as Mikko’s blood pressure skyrocketed.
“Of course, I guess, it’s just, erm, been a while since I’ve seen him in his helmet,” Levi rested his hands on Anika’s shoulders, trying to turn her away from him and his monumental disaster of a conversation.
“But we’re gonna head back downstairs, yeah?
” The last part was aimed at her, his eyes conveying discomfort.
“Yeah, sure. You both are acting weird anyway,” she retorted.
Relenting, they both turned, cordial nods exchanged before they walked away. Mikko watched as Levi’s mouth brushed along the side of her temple, his lips mumbling something to her. A soft smile edged across her face when she looked up at him.
Red dimmed along the edges of Mikko’s vision.
As soon as they disappeared around the corner, Mikko slipped his helmet and balaclava off over his head, the accessories suddenly too tight and claustrophobic. Running his free hand through his hair, he tried and failed to tame it.
It was time to find Cristiano since this party was boring him.
Walking down the hall, trailing after Anika and Levi, Mikko found himself scenting her perfume lingering in the air. He needed to find his friend and fast, or else he was going to do something he’d regret—or worse, that he wouldn’t regret.
Slipping past costumed bodies dancing and talking in various parlors and living rooms, Mikko wasn’t immune to the stares he was getting. Now that his helmet and balaclava had been torn off, people started realizing he was a Romanov.
Ugh.
A group of young women turned to look and kept staring unabashedly. He wasn’t in his usual polished suit, but he found that the helmet and riding gear always caught the attention of women—and men.
“Nice costume,” one of the women commented, dark hair making him think of Anika. He smiled tightly, nodding once at them, but broke eye contact.
Only one woman occupied his mind.
A woman who couldn’t even stand to be in his presence for long.
A woman who prefers that sleazy bastard Levi over me.
Preposterous.
Quickly striding down the main staircase, Mikko was deposited into the lavish foyer.
A fog machine kept the space on theme. Only a few people loitered there and none of them were Cristiano.
Pushing on, Mikko checked every damn corner in the large house before finally deciding his friend must have wandered farther out into the manicured lawn.
Slipping his balaclava back on, Mikko was careful not to step on anything or anyone littering the yard. Weaving between trees, props, and clusters of people laughing and drinking, he started slowing down.
I’m going to make this man swallow an Airtag next time.
With his patience running thin, Mikko began to ask around. His friend’s laughter could usually be heard above the din of a party, but this time, Mikko heard nothing. It made his blood freeze.
It’s fine, Anika just set you on edge.
When Mikko’s eyes caught on the makeshift maze toward the back of the property, his mind clicked. Cristiano had to be in there; there was no other option. Hand painted signs splattered in red paint mimicking blood pointed toward the haunted hedges.
Great.
He could hear a fountain bubbling nearby and excited squeals of laughter coming from inside.
“Klyanus’ Bogom…” Mikko muttered before stepping in. I swear to God…