Chapter 25 #2
Security is everywhere. It's not obvious, but noticeable if you know what to look for. Men in sharp suits linger at the edges of the crowd, and it's obvious they are meant to blend in.
Two men in tuxedos stand on either side of the massive entrance, pulling the doors open in perfect synchronization. They bow slightly as we pass.
“Ladies.”
Rachel squeezes my arm, barely containing her excitement. “Shut up, shut up! I love this so much already.”
I bite back a grin. Same.
The double doors swing open, revealing a short corridor lined with flickering sconces that cast golden light onto the walls. The anticipation thickens, humming in my chest like a second heartbeat.
Then, another set of doors swings wide, and I physically stop in my tracks.
The ballroom is massive, every inch of it is glittering with elegance.
Chandeliers dangle from the high ceilings, casting a soft, golden glow over the spinning dancers and lavishly dressed guests.
The gleaming floor reflects the twinkling lights above, and the musicians in the corner play a haunting melody.
Rachel lets out a breathless laugh.
“We definitely didn’t see this when we were here before,” I murmur, taking it all in.
Couples twirl in effortless synchronization, while others mingle in clusters, blending seamlessly with the music. It’s like stepping into a dream I never want to wake up from.
Rachel leans in, and a smile tugs at her lips. “Good thing we took those dance lessons. I’d rather not be the only ones here who can’t do the waltz.”
I laugh, adjusting my mask. “You’re welcome for that brilliant idea. Though, no promises I won’t twirl right into a wall.”
We step off the last stair, blending into the throng of guests. The energy in the room is magnetic. Everything glows, from the extravagant table settings to the shimmering champagne pyramid, to the soft sway of skirts and whispers of silk.
A slower, more romantic tune begins, and couples flood the dance floor. My gaze drifts toward the grand double doors leading to the gardens, and their glass panes reflect the full moon. The night is clear, and I already know I’m going to sneak out there before the night’s over.
But before I can dwell on it, someone catches my eye.
There's a tall man in a mask, gliding through the crowd with unmistakable ease. People can't help but turn as he passes, and whispers cling to the air he leaves behind. He moves like he belongs here.
His steel-blue eyes lock onto mine, and something dark flickers behind his twisted smirk. It vanishes quickly, smoothed by a look of intrigue. His eyes flick between me and Rachel, and then he heads straight for us.
Rachel stiffens beside me. Not obvious, but I feel it.
The man stops close enough to test a boundary, and his head dips in that too-smooth way men use when they think charm is currency.
His attention shifts toward Rachel. “You both look stunning tonight,” he smiles. “Enjoying yourselves so far?”
Rachel tilts her chin up, offering him a polite but carefully measured smile. “Thank you, and yes, we are. What about you?”
Her tone is controlled. But I know her well enough to catch the unspoken edge. The man’s predatory gaze drags over her before coming back to me with the same unreadable glint in his eyes.
“Oh,” he murmurs. “I have a feeling the night is just getting started.”
His unsettling smile doesn’t waver or slip. But before I can respond, two more men step up beside him. Their attention is locked onto us, like they’ve just stumbled across their next conquest.
I wonder if they are his friends, or just more guys looking to chat?
The first to speak is the tall blonde, flashing a grin so smooth it might as well come with a warning label.
“Don't the two of you look absolutely dazzling tonight,” his British accent is smooth and rich with an effortless charm.
Rachel and I exchange a look and I can already see the wheels turning in her head.
“Where are you gentlemen from?”
The playful blonde leans in slightly, grinning. “London,” he answers. “And you?”
“Oooh, London boys! How positively dashing!” Rachel croons, her British accent damn near perfect. She even adds a ridiculous curtsy for good measure, drawing a low chuckle from the brunette to his right.
I choke back a laugh. This girl is unhinged, and I love her for it.
“Not bad,” he muses, eyes twinkling as he extends his hand. “For an American. Care to dance?”
Rachel doesn’t hesitate. She looks at me, checking in, and I roll my eyes, nudging her forward.
“Go.”
“I’d love to,” she grins, letting him lead her onto the dance floor, vanishing into the sea of swirling gowns and masked strangers.
Which leaves me with the remaining two.
They both shift slightly, opening their mouths at the exact same time.
“Would you—”
They exchange a glance and I burst into laughter, unable to contain myself.
“Rock, paper, scissors?” I suggest with a grin. “Winner gets the first dance.”
Their expressions are priceless. It's the perfect mix of amusement and disbelief. “You should see your faces right now.” Another laugh slips out.
To my absolute delight, they recover quickly. Without hesitation, they go straight for it.
Rock. Paper. Scissors.
Mr. Mysterious lands on rock.
The friend stares at his defeated hand, shaking his head slightly before retreating with a small, amused smirk.
“Looks like I’m the lucky one.” The mystery man says, stepping closer. He extends his hand, and I can see his eyes gleaming behind his mask with the same twisted smile.
“Would you do me the honor, love?”
A ripple of anticipation skates through me as I place my hand in his, offering a polite smile. “Lead the way.”
The music swells and my partner moves with precision and practiced ease. But beneath it all, I feel an odd chill snake down my spine, prickling my skin like invisible hands brushing too close.
Can’t I have one night with no weird shit?
It’s been happening more frequently now, an unseen presence just out of reach. But every time I turn, there isn’t anyone there.
Still, it lingers. Tightening around my ribs.
I force my focus back on the dance, to the music, and on the way my partner’s hands guide me through each step.
Everything starts to shift when the sound around me dulls. The ballroom lights dim as a sharp, high-pitched ringing floods my ears, drowning out the laughter, the music, and the murmuring voices. The world around me blurs, and the colors fade, while the movement around me slows down.
I blink hard, and my footing wavers. The floor is suddenly unsteady, like reality itself has tilted. My partner’s lips move, but his voice doesn’t reach me.
I shake my head, blinking again. The moment snaps like a rubber band, and the ringing fades as the music filters back in.
His words cut through the fog. “... you alright, love?”
I exhale, forcing a reassuring smile, though my pulse is still thundering. “Yeah, just a little… distracted.”
I can tell he's not convinced. “Tell me,” he muses, titling his head as if trying to read through my expression. “Do you ever feel like places like this are haunted with old memories?”
I blink. Not the question I was expecting.
“I suppose it’s possible,” I answer slowly, choosing my words carefully. “Especially places with so much history.”
“Exactly.” His voice dips lower, almost to a purr. “It’s like certain people are more open to it, more attuned, you know?”
I shrug, “Could be.”
“I get the sense you might be one of those people.”
I shiver, trying to decide if I like this conversation or if I should be walking away already.
“Interesting observation,” I let out a small laugh. “But I think I’d notice if I were… attuned.”
The song winds down, and I step back, offering a polite smile.
“Thanks for the dance, have a great night.”
I dip into a graceful curtsy, hoping to make my exit feel like a choice, not a retreat.
“If you’ll excuse me, I promised my friend I’d find her after each dance.”
I turn around and slam straight into a wall of solid muscle. A sharp inhale catches in my throat.
Warm hands find my waist and it sears straight through me, sharp and sudden.
I look up and freeze.
His mask is dark and sharp edged. Even in the shadows of the dance floor, his gold-flecked eyes cut through the dim light. They're impossible to look away from.
For a second, the entire room tilts. The music fades, the world narrows, and I’m locked in the weight of that stare. It's different than when it hit me on the dance floor a moment ago. This one digs in, demanding I pay attention.
They remind me of Kane’s eyes, but there's no way.
Before I can shake myself loose, the next song starts in a low, sultry, way, humming with something I probably shouldn't want to feel.
He steps closer with his hand outstretched in a silent command.
I freeze, scanning his face for a tell, for any sign of what game he thinks he's playing—why every nerve in my body is suddenly staging a coup against me.
But I find nothing. Just a low chuckle that rumbles from his chest.
Against my better judgement, I place my hand in his.
The moment our fingers connect, the world shifts.
Every instinct I have screams at me to run.
To fight. To do something. But I can’t move.
His grip is firm, his presence is an unshakable force, and his gaze locks onto mine like he’s searching for something I can’t see.
With a fluid motion, he spins me, pulling me into the rhythm of the music like he’s done this a thousand times before. I barely have time to process the strange pull tightening around my ribs.
I let my gaze drag over him. He's in head to toe black, and looks tailored within an inch of perfection. It's not a suit, it's a declaration.
This is the kind of man who doesn't stumble into attention, he bathes in it.
And damn it, it’s working.
Is it just me, or is it getting hot in here?
Heat rises up my chest, creeping up my neck, and I can’t tell if it’s from the dance or something else entirely.