CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
LILA
I hate him.
That smug, manipulative bastard. He knew exactly what I wanted, and I played right into it like a na?ve little puppet.
I waited. And waited. And he never came.
No punishment. No knock. Just silence. I thought I was taunting him.
But really, he was the one taunting me. Watching through his perv cameras, probably smirking while I tossed and turned in a pathetic swirl of frustration.
Until I finally shoved a pillow in front of the lens and flipped him off.
Take that, pervert.
I spritz myself with cotton candy perfume, slip on my white ruffled work dress, and lace up my heels. Grabbing my purse, I pause at the door. I glance left. Then right. I’m still on edge. Every man feels like a suspect. Could one of them be Volkov’s? Could all of them?
I skip the rickety elevator and take the stairs, careful not to snag my hem as I descend one cautious step at a time. When I push open the grimy front door, I freeze.
Clint’s leaning against a cherry-red Mercedes like he’s starring in his own music video, sunglasses, arms crossed, wind flirting with his perfectly messy hair.
God, give me the strength to handle this diva.
“Hey, douchebag,” I call. “You’re not a pop star. Dial it back.”
He slides his glasses down and smirks. “Thought I’d have to wait all day.” “I thought you didn’t pick up trash,” I toss back. He winks. “Little did I know you were a treasure. ”
I hate that he’s kind of charming. That smirk should be illegal. “Seriously, Clint. Why are you here?”
“It’s supposed to rain,” he says, shrugging like it’s no big deal. “Figured I’d give you a ride. Didn’t want your princess hair getting ruined.”
I narrow my eyes. I don’t trust him. Not completely. “What’s the catch?”
“No catch. You seemed off yesterday. I was… worried.” He shrugs again, then clasps his hands under his chin like a pleading schoolgirl. “Please?”
I sigh. “Fine. But if people talk, I’m blaming you.”
“Fair,” he says, already strutting over and opening the passenger door.
He swings it wide with a wink, and I can’t help but roll my eyes at his arrogance.
I slide into leather and gasp. It feels just like Aster’s G-Wagon.
Everything about it screams wealth. And maybe it is just me, but there is something about these expensive cars that feels sensual on purpose.
Like they are designed to seduce you the second you sit down.
Or maybe I see the world differently than the women who bury their desire because society tells them it’s wrong.
I used to hide that part of myself. But now I couldn’t care less what anyone thinks.
“One day I’ll have a car like this,” I murmur.
“You will,” he says easily. “I already know you’ll work your ass off to get what you want.”
Weirdly, his comment sounds sincere.
He hands me a bag. “Got you a bagel. And an iced caramel macchiato.”
I blink, caught off guard. He just assumed I would say yes to the ride. And he knew exactly what to get me .
Is that because he is the Red Mask and he’s been watching me through the cameras? Or because we did kind of date for a few months… and he actually paid attention?
“You didn’t have to,” I murmur.
He smirks. “I know.”
I take a sip, and it’s perfect. My exact order from my favorite café down the street from my apartment. “How did you know?”
“Maybe the version of me in your head was conjured up before you actually got to know me. And maybe I’m not so bad…”
We pull into traffic, the city buzzing with people rushing to work. Horns blare in the distance, but when the rain starts, I can’t help but feel at peace, like a little slice of heaven. But then I remember I’m with Clint.
“I should probably say this before it gets weird,” I start. “I am truly sorry but… You know I don’t like you like that, right?”
He bursts into laughter. “Lila, please. You nearly tased my balls off. I knew right then I didn’t stand a chance with you.”
We both laugh. “But seriously,” I say. “Why the sudden shift?”
He goes quiet, gripping the wheel. “Because I judged you. Just like you judged me.” He exhales slowly.
“I said some really ugly things to you in that maze… and I regret it.” His voice lowers.
“You didn’t deserve any of it. I was just pissed at the world, and you caught the worst of it.
I took it out on you.” He glances over. “I’m sorry, Lila. ”
My breath catches. “I was scared too, you know,” I whisper. “That maze wasn’t just a game for me. It brought back things I’ve been trying to forget.”
“Yeah,” he says softly. “Same. ”
We sit in silence, but it’s not awkward. It’s comfortable. Something soft and real is growing between us.
“So, you really want to be friends? Like you’re not screwing with me?” I ask.
“Best friends,” he says. “I need someone to keep me humble when I’m being a complete jackass.”
“I’ll keep you in line. Don’t worry,” I smirk.
He grins. “Good.”
We turn into the employee garage, and all the warmth in my chest turns to fire as heat rushes to my cheeks.
Parked in front of the glass elevators is a Bugatti Divo, deep navy blue like the night sky.
Kage steps out of the driver’s seat while Beck gets out of the passenger side.
They stand like Greek tragedies dressed in Dior, destined to ruin anything that gets too close.
Beck is the sun. Glorious. Warm. Golden. But Kage...
Kage is the night.
All shadows and tension, he stands in a black button-down tucked into dark gray slacks, the sleeves rolled to his elbows like he is deciding whether to punish someone or fuck them senseless.
His dark brown hair falls carelessly across his forehead, jaw clenched tight.
And when he slips his hands into his pockets, those veins flex just enough to make my mouth water. His hands belong in a museum.
Or on my throat. There is no in-between. And he is glaring straight at me… well, at Clint.
Welp.
Clint mumbles under his breath. “Oh damn. They look pissed.”
“What did we do?” I whisper.
Kage taps his polished shoe. Beck’s jaw ticks. I grab the handle and push the door open. We step out. My knees wobble, and I can’t tear my eyes from Kage. He’s a walking red flag, and part of me wants to fix him… but the darker part of me wants him exactly like this. Cold. Dominant. Untouchable.
Clint tries to salvage the moment. “Morning, guys. Great day for a storm, huh?”
Silence.
Then Kage speaks, his voice low and sharp like a blade, slicing the air clean out of my lungs. “Why is she with you?”
“I… uh… I gave her a ride. It’s supposed to rain…”
Beck crosses his arms slowly, voice cool. “You do realize it’s against company policy to sleep with a coworker, right?”
My stomach drops.
Oh hell no. Did Beck’s sweet, golden-boy self really assume I was sleeping with Clint?
“Ew. I’d rather die than sleep with him. Did you forget I literally tased the guy?”
Kage’s lip twitches. Almost a smile, but it fades back into his emotionless, hard, statue-like frame.
“Princess,” Clint groans. “Can you not roast me in front of our bosses?”
My heart hammers in my chest from that one word.
Do not call me that in front of them. They really will think we are a couple.
Kage’s body tenses. I can feel it.
“I told you I’d throw you under the bus if you keep calling me that,” I say sweetly. Beck chuckles, eyes gleaming. “So, Lila… your nickname is Princess?” His grin turns slow and wicked. “That’s cute.”
My stomach drops. That word. Again. But it sounds so sweet rolling off Beck’s tongue .
Kage’s breathing shifts. Subtle but there.
His chest rises and falls like he’s trying to hold something back.
His eyes lock with mine. Ice and fire all at once.
And I know that look. That is a man doing everything he can to hide his emotions.
But wow, he looks irresistible. His body speaks in a language I shouldn’t understand, but my thighs are fluent, and I am dripping for this man. Good thing I wore panties today.
Kage steps forward. “Since you two are such close friends, you’ll be separated today.” He turns to me. “Lila, you will be handling ballroom logistics on the 2/3 floor. Clint, come with me… Now.”
He doesn’t wait for a response. Just walks away. Lethal and beautiful. A thunderstorm in a tailored suit.
Clint grimaces. “Pray for me.”
I watch Kage leave, still unable to take my eyes off him.
He may hate me for whatever reason, but God, I would do anything to have a second alone with him.
A single breath. A single look. A single chance.
My pulse is thudding. My legs feel weak.
And then I see it. He glances over his shoulder. Looking at me.
Did I imagine that… or did that really happen?
Beck steps beside me. “Don’t take it personally. He didn’t sleep much last night.”
My throat tightens. Because maybe, just maybe, I’m the reason he couldn’t sleep. Maybe he replayed every second in that elevator the same way I did. Maybe he wanted to text me. Touch me. Kiss me. Destroy me. Maybe I’m the thing he can’t get out of his system. And if that’s true?
I’ll make damn sure he remembers me every time he closes his eyes.
We step into the elevator, and he presses a single gold button. 2/3 .
I squint. “What does 2/3 mean? Why isn’t it just the second and third floor?”
Beck chuckles. “This is going to sound over the top, but… we merged both floors to create one massive ballroom with cathedral ceilings. So… 2/3. It was Kage’s idea.”
I laugh under my breath. “That’s a little extra, don’t you think?”
“You’ll understand when you see it.”
Then, it hits me. This is the first time we’ve been alone since the Halloween party. Since the dancing. The grinding. The moment he made me feel something before I spiraled and bolted. That was almost five weeks ago. And somehow, that memory feels fuzzy now. Distant.
Does that mean I’m not into him?.
The elevator hums around us, and I realize I don’t feel that same intensity with Beck. It’s not fire and suffocation. It’s calm. Comfortable. Safe.
Beck clears his throat. “This is the first time we’ve been alone since the party,” he says, side-eyeing me with that slow, seductive grin.
I look up at him, and butterflies flutter somewhere in my stomach, but they’re nothing like what I’ve felt before. Not the ones that choke me. Not the ones that possess me. Not the ones that consume me.
I smile politely. “I had fun that night. I tagged along with Aster. I swear I’m not a stalker.”
He laughs, biting his lip.
I made him smile again. Isn’t that better than the toxicity the Red Mask offers?
“I know… I looked into you before hiring you,” Beck says softly. “Can I ask something?”
The elevator beeps. The doors slide open. We step out, and his fingers brush my arm. Warm. Smooth. Thoughtful. “Why did you run that night?” he asks. “Why did you disappear?”
I pause. My stomach tightens. “Honestly? I don’t have much dating experience, and when you asked me out… my body panicked. My brain spiraled. I had a full-blown anxiety attack. I just needed to breathe. I didn’t want you to think I was crazy, so… I disappeared.”
His gaze softens. He glides a finger down my arm, slow and gentle.
It’s nice. Sweet, even. But it isn’t electric. It isn’t ravenous.
“I wish you’d told me,” he says. His voice is low, almost regretful. “I would’ve understood. But I’m glad I found you in the maze.”
Wait. What?
My pulse stutters.
“You… found me in the maze?” I ask slowly. He doesn’t answer. The elevator dings, a soft chime that signals we’ve arrived. I turn around, needing air, and come to a halt.
The 2/3 ballroom spreads out before me like something out of a dream. It’s divine. Like something God Himself sculpted with His hands. Heavenly. It’s a perfect distraction from the truth crawling beneath my skin.
If Beck found me in the maze… then what mask was he wearing? And if it wasn’t him behind the red mask… then who the hell was?