CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
LILA
It’s breathtaking. Everything about this man’s life is breathtaking.
I bet he had it easy growing up. Tuition covered at some elite academy.
A future laid out like a red carpet, silver spoon in hand, a company waiting for him with a bow.
No panic over rising bills. No graveyard shifts to keep the power on.
No teenage years stolen by three jobs to keep food in the fridge. What a life that must be.
The ballroom looks like something plucked straight from a period film or a history book. Vaulted ceilings. Shimmering chandeliers. Intricate gold trim. Clouds and angels swirl elegantly across the ceiling, matching the same opulent aesthetic as Beck’s mansion. Every inch whispers heaven on earth.
It screams royalty. Supremacy. The elite.
Perhaps Beck is royalty and no one bothered to inform me.
“Why didn’t you mention you were royalty?” I tease.
He chuckles softly. “You think I did this? No, this was all Kage’s work.”
“Kage?”
“Yeah… I owe everything to him.”
That’s an odd thing to say. What does he mean by owe? What did Kage do?
Curiosity sparks, not for Beck but for Kage .
I clear my throat. “What do you need me to do up here?”
“To the right, there’s a hallway with bathrooms and a storage room full of decorations, chairs, tables, everything you might need. I trust you to handle the decorating. Just let me know which flowers you want for the arrangements.”
“Why would you trust me with all of this?”
He shrugs casually. “I looked over your transcript and resume. You ran multiple clubs in college, graduated valedictorian in high school, and…” His grin tilts, mischievous. “I asked Aster, and she said you live for this kind of thing.”
“Hey, that’s cheating!” I giggle. “You can’t ask her!”
“Well, that’s the perk of being CEO.”
He gestures toward a cable near the sound system. “Also, feel free to play your music. Just connect your phone, and it’ll play throughout the entire floor.”
“Thank you, Beck. Seriously. For the job, for your kindness, for just being… you.” I smile shyly, suddenly self-conscious.
Great. That totally sounded like I’m hitting on him .
“I swear I meant that in the most professional way possible.”
He doesn’t reply. Instead, he extends his hand toward me. “Would you dance with me?”
I glance around, giggling nervously. “We don’t have music, Beck.”
His hand remains patiently outstretched, waiting.
“Hey Siri, play 'Somewhere Only We Know' by Keane.”
Dammit. How am I supposed to say no when he’s looking at me like that, with this song playing ?
It feels like a moment destined to become a core memory. Slowly, I place my hand in his, and he pulls me gently into his arms.
“Do you know how to dance?” he asks, smirk curling like a challenge. “Princess.”
God, not that word again.
“Don’t all princesses know how to dance?” I retort playfully, batting my lashes. He lifts an amused eyebrow. “I’m kidding,” I clarify. “But yes, I know how to dance. I went to a fancy Academy, and unfortunately, dance lessons were mandatory.”
“Oh, so you grew up in that life?” He sounds genuinely surprised.
“Something like that,” I murmur vaguely. It feels oddly uncomfortable sharing details of my past with him, not because I’m ashamed, but because it feels too intimate. “The real question is,” I say, tilting my chin up defiantly, “can you keep up with me?”
He chuckles softly, guiding our movements across the polished floor. His dark blue eyes hold mine, sensual yet safe. Comfortable, but not dangerous or dark like the Red Mask.
Beck isn’t him. I know it. Even holding his hand feels different. Should I confirm it?
“You mentioned seeing me in the maze,” I start hesitantly, watching him carefully. “But I don’t remember seeing you.”
“How could you forget, Lila?”
My heart pounds erratically. My thighs clench.
Could he actually be…?
“I was wearing black,” he says, swirling me gracefully. The Red Mask was also in black. My pulse quickens with anticipation. “I was the one in the plague doctor costume… the one who took Aster. ”
My stomach sinks in disappointment. Beck is wonderful, smart, kind, handsome, dependable, but… he’s not the one haunting my dreams.
He’s not the one I want to make mine.
My body stiffens, and I know I need to shut this down before feelings take root and turn into heartbreak.
"Oh, right. I remember now—" My words are cut off by the sharp clack of designer shoes on polished floors.
CLICK. CLACK. CLICK. CLACK.
“What the hell are you two doing?” Kage’s voice slithers through the ballroom, low and predatory, sending chills down my spine.
Beck doesn’t break stride. "We’re dancing. What are you doing, Kage?"
His eyes are following our every move. "Trying to run a fucking business, but I have to babysit every man here from trying to get into her pants," Kage growls, nodding toward me.
Arrogant prick.
I halt abruptly, feeling heat rise in my cheeks. "Excuse me, are you implying I’m the problem?"
Kage stalks closer, deliberate and merciless, eyes narrowed with lethal intensity. “Keep your head down and get your shit together. If you’re that desperate to get laid, go to a sex club. Or do you want me to fire you myself?”
"Relax, man. I’m not going to fire her," Beck begins.
Kage silences him by stepping closer, invading my personal space. His sandalwood cologne wraps around me, rich and inescapable, pulling me under like a tide I can’t fight.
I tilt my chin up, matching his glare. "Hmm. Sex club? Do you think I’m some whore?
" I pause, locking eyes with him, daring him to say yes. "First, you accuse me of lying about my story. Now, you’re insulting me. Let me guess. You either hate women, or you and Beck are an item, and I’m just in your way. "
And for the first time, his composure falters. Anger flashes in his eyes alongside something else. Something vulnerable and unexpected.
His jaw tightens as he leans even closer, his voice dangerously low. "Don’t worry about coming to work tomorrow." He turns sharply and heads toward the elevator.
My stomach drops.
I’ve really done it this time. I said too much and let my other side get in the way. I need this job.
"Wait, Kage, please. I didn’t mean—"
He cuts me off, not even turning around. “Be at Beck’s house in the morning. Don’t be late.”
Even from behind, I can feel the smug satisfaction rolling off him.
"Thank you," I shout sarcastically as he enters the elevator. Kage turns slowly, his green eyes locked on mine, a triumphant smirk on his lips.
He’s playing mind games, and this round goes to him.
As the elevator doors close, I exhale a breath I didn’t realize I’d been holding. Beck rubs his forehead wearily. "I’m sorry about him. Kage can be… a lot. Even for me."
The moment has faded, but three things are now crystal clear.
Beck is not the Red Mask. Kage is an infuriating tyrant. And I’m utterly, completely mesmerized by him.
"I’m sorry that moment was ruined," Beck says with pure disappointment. I know I need to break this off, but honestly, my body is still humming from that encounter .
I feel like I have whiplash.
“It’s okay… I… better get started so everything will be perfect for next week.”Oddly, I want to be done with this conversation to get my mind off of all of this.
“Well, if you need anything, here’s my number.” He grabs my phone, enters it without asking, then lifts my hand and brushes his lips over my skin in a way that lingers.
Then he walks away, not before looking over his shoulder one last time, eyes tracing every inch of me as he steps onto the elevator. My phone feels heavier in my hand now, his number glowing on the screen like an offer I’m not sure I want.
I exhale, finally able to breathe again. “Shit… that was intense.” My hands rake through my hair as I try to cool off. My skin is still tingling where he touched me.
I connect my phone to the ballroom speakers and set my playlist on shuffle. A slow, sultry rhythm pours through the room. I slip off my heels and let my bare feet touch the marble, my hips swaying, as the music peels away the tension wound tight in my chest, as I head for the supply closet.
The space is massive, with wire racks stacked with every imaginable kind of décor. I drag the boxes out one by one, and when I glance down, my faint reflection stares back at me from the polished floor. That’s when it hits me.
If it weren't for the people in this company, I might not be here. That night could have ended differently. It could have ended me. But it didn’t.
I’m still here. Still breathing. Still alive.
And even if decorating is not glamorous, it’s more than I ever dreamed I would have.
I’m grateful for another day of life, and it’s because of this company.
I dig through each box, pulling out tablecloths, holding them up to catch the light as I try to imagine which colors will set the right tone for the theme.
My hands sift through fabric, textures slipping between my fingers, but then one box in particular catches my eye.
My pulse quickens as I slide it closer and lift the lid.
Costumes.
The clown suit Clint wore.
The plague doctor mask Beck had on.
Others I don’t recognize.
The stack of employee masks sits neatly arranged. All accounted for except his.
A chill creeps up my spine, the air shifting heavy around me. I freeze, breath caught, as the ballroom lights flicker and dim.
Slowly, I turn.
And there he is. On the far side of the ballroom, cloaked in shadow like he was born from it.
Am I dreaming?
The Red Mask.
He wears a black turtleneck beneath a tailored suit, leather gloves fitted to perfection. His designer shoes whisper against the floor as he advances. It’s eerie, yet he steals the breath from my lungs… and I haven’t even seen his face.
We don’t speak. We don’t move. But the tension between us is unbearable. My body is fire, and he’s the match.
The music pulses in the background, and my heart beats in rhythm with each step he takes. He’s coming for me. No more games. No more teasing.
He stops close, so close I can feel the heat rolling off him, seeping into my skin like a warning. His chest rises and falls like he ran through a dream to get here. His voice is low, modulated. Smooth like aged whiskey, and I’m already drunk on the sound of it.
“Did you miss me, Princess?”