3. Nora #2
I shook my head despite smiling slightly. Valentina grabbed her mask from the counter and slid it into place.
“Anyway, stop pretending you don’t want your men.”
“Again, they are not my men.”
“Mhm.”
Before I could argue again, she kissed the top of my head quickly and headed for the door. “Come downstairs before I let Moreno ruin my life.”
“That sentence should concern you more.”
“It concerns me exactly the correct amount.”
Then she disappeared, heels clicking down the hallway outside while I stayed in the bathroom alone.
I stared at myself in the mirror for a long moment after the door shut.
The mask transformed the uniform somehow.
Without it, the outfit felt revealing. With it, the whole thing became character instead of person.
Fantasy instead of reality. Maybe that was the point.
The blonde woman in the mirror looked softer than I usually allowed myself to look.
Curled hair spilling over bare shoulders.
Black satin hugging my body. Blue eyes brighter against dark lace and gold detailing.
Pretty enough to feel dangerous. I adjusted one strap unnecessarily, then forced myself away from the mirror before I started overthinking again.
I carefully avoided their side of the ballroom for almost two hours.
Not obviously. I still worked the room normally, still rotated tables and refilled glasses and smiled at wealthy strangers discussing things that sounded vaguely illegal between bites of expensive steak.
But every single time my assigned path drifted too close to the far left side of the ballroom where they’d been sitting the night before, I redirected without thinking.
It was pathetic. Especially because I knew exactly why I was doing it.
If I went over there, they’d pull me in again.
And worse? I wanted them to. That was the problem.
I’d already had three glasses of champagne over the course of the evening, enough warmth under my skin that my usual caution felt quieter around the edges.
Not gone. I wasn’t stupid enough to get drunk at a place like this. But softened.
Muted enough that every time I thought about Stryker watching me over the rim of his whiskey glass or Viper smiling like he knew things about me I hadn’t admitted yet or Blade touching my ankle beneath the table last night while checking if my heel was rubbing blisters into my skin, my body reacted before my brain could organize a practical response.
Which was deeply inconvenient. Because jumping three strangers in a ballroom was insane behavior. Especially for me.
I’d slept with exactly one person in my life. Ethan had been patient. Careful. Sweet, honestly. He always checked if I was comfortable and kissed me afterward and bought Valentina groceries without making her feel bad about it.
The problem was mostly that every sexual encounter with him felt like following assembly instructions somebody else wrote. Predictable steps. Predictable ending. Predictable emotions.
After a while, I started volunteering for extra shifts to avoid disappointing him by clearly not wanting sex as often as he did. That probably should’ve told me something sooner.
“Nora,” Colette called quietly as she passed behind me. “Table twelve needs another bottle.”
“Got it.”
I grabbed the tray automatically and moved back into the crowd.
The ballroom looked even more surreal tonight.
Rich guests, wearing elaborate masks, drifted beneath chandeliers, while servers carried silver trays through pools of gold light.
Music pulsed softly beneath conversations happening in at least four different languages.
Somewhere across the room, Valentina laughed loudly enough that I found her instantly.
She stood between three men near one of the lounge sections, dark curls spilling over bare shoulders while one of the men leaned close enough to murmur something against her ear.
She looked happy. Actually happy. Not performing happy.
That settled something uneasy in me. Then immediately unsettled something else when my gaze kept drifting farther left despite myself.
Don’t.
I kept walking.
Don’t be stupid.
Another few steps.
You’re working.
Then I looked up and realized I’d drifted directly into their section anyway.
“Careful,” Viper said smoothly from somewhere too close. “You looked seconds away from walking into that column.”
I stopped short so fast champagne sloshed against the tray.
All three of them sat around a circular table near the edge of the ballroom exactly like last night, except tonight their jackets were gone and their ties loosened slightly.
Same tuxes. Same masks. I noticed immediately. Which meant they noticed me noticing.
“You wore the same thing,” I said before I could stop myself.
Viper looked delighted. “So did you.”
I blinked once. Then Blade laughed quietly into his drink, while Stryker watched me with that same steady attention which made me feel overly aware of every inch of exposed skin.
I sighed. “I walked into that.”
“You really did.”
“Nora,” Blade interrupted mildly before Viper could keep going, “come sit down before he gets worse.”
“Too late." Stryker said.
My stomach tightened embarrassingly at hearing my name in his voice again. Which was ridiculous. Absolutely ridiculous.
“I’m technically working,” I reminded them weakly.
“You’re holding a nearly empty tray,” Blade pointed out.
I looked down. He was unfortunately correct.
Viper leaned back in his chair. “This feels promising for us since there’s exactly four flutes left for the four of us.”
“You’re all terrible.”
“And yet,” he said.
And yet here I was anyway. I should’ve walked away then.
Instead, I sat. Immediately I regretted it.
Not because it was wrong exactly. But, because the second I lowered myself into the chair beside them, something shifted in the atmosphere around the table that made my skin too aware of their proximity.
Stryker sat close enough beside me that the heat from his arm brushed mine occasionally whenever either of us moved. Blade occupied the chair across from me, calmer, but somehow more observant tonight. Viper lounged beside him with cards spread loosely between his fingers.
I frowned at the table. “What is this?”
“Poker,” Viper said.
The cards looked different than any deck I’d seen before. Black with gold edging, symbols instead of standard designs. Not that I knew much about cards. My extent of card games was Uno and Go Fish
I looked closer. “I don’t know how to play this.”
“That’s fixable,” Viper said immediately.
Blade reached over and slid part of the card spread toward me. “Come here.”
The words were simple. Still, my pulse jumped stupidly anyway. I shifted closer to look at the cards while Blade explained the basics patiently, his voice low enough that the ballroom noise softened around it.
Viper interrupted constantly.
“Don’t listen to him, Nora. He plays like somebody’s disappointed father.”
Blade ignored him smoothly. “You’re trying to make pairs, straights, flushes?—”
“I know some of those words.”
“You’re beautiful,” Viper told me solemnly.
I laughed despite myself. Stryker’s hand settled lightly against the back of my chair while I studied the cards, not touching me directly, but close enough that awareness crawled over my skin anyway.
“You’re distracting her,” Blade said.
“That’s because she’s cute when she’s confused.”
“I’m not confused,” I argued automatically.
Viper pointed at the cards. “Then what beats what?”
I looked down. “…That feels irrelevant.”
Blade laughed quietly again. Somehow, impossibly, the next hour became genuinely fun.
They taught me slowly without making me feel stupid.
Blade explained rules patiently while Viper intentionally exaggerated everything dramatically enough to make me laugh.
Stryker mostly watched, occasionally correcting one of them or reaching across me to rearrange cards with large steady hands that kept pulling my attention away from the actual game.
I lost almost every round. Badly. At one point I accidentally folded a winning hand and Viper nearly choked on his whiskey laughing at me.
“You had a straight,” he managed.
“I don’t know what that means.”
“It means you beat him,” Blade explained calmly, while Viper still looked personally offended.
“Oh.” I looked at the discarded cards. “That does seem important.”
Stryker’s mouth curved slightly beside me. “Little late now.”
“Helpful,” I muttered.
The champagne kept appearing somehow. Not enough to make me sloppy. Just enough that my body stayed warm and loose instead of tight with constant awareness.
At some point during another game, Stryker’s fingers brushed the inside of my wrist while reaching for chips. Neither of us moved immediately afterward. The contact lasted maybe half a second too long. Then Viper noticed. Of course he did.
His gaze flicked between us once before he leaned slightly toward me slightly. “You’re flushed.”
“It’s warm in here.”
“Mhm.”
Blade slid another card toward me. “Ignore him.”
“I’m trying.”
“You’re failing,” Viper informed me.
Unfortunately true. Because by then, attraction sat thick enough beneath my skin that every casual touch felt intentional even when it probably wasn’t.
Blade’s knee brushed mine under the table.
Viper leaned close enough while explaining a rule that his shoulder pressed briefly against my arm.
Stryker’s hand stayed on the back of my chair like he’d forgotten to move it.
And I liked it. That was the real problem.
Not the attraction itself. The fact that being around them felt easy enough that I stopped fighting it.
“Nora.”
I looked up. Stryker watched me steadily from beside me while the others argued about rules again.
“What?” I asked quietly.
“You stopped paying attention.”
I swallowed slowly. He noticed too much.
Before I could answer, Viper tossed his cards onto the table. “Alright. Important question.”
“That sentence never ends well,” Blade muttered.
Viper ignored him completely. “Do you wanna get out of here?”
I stared at him. Then at Blade. Then finally at Stryker beside me, whose expression barely changed, except for the fact that his attention sharpened slightly. My entire body went hot immediately.
“You cannot ask things like that so casually,” I told Viper.
“Why not?”
“Because normal people need emotional preparation.”
“We could give you five minutes?”
Blade rubbed a hand briefly over his mouth like he was hiding amusement. “That isn’t helping her.”
Viper looked genuinely confused. “I’m being considerate.”
“You’re being Viper,” Styker corrected.
Which apparently explained everything somehow. I should’ve said no. Or maybe not no exactly. But definitely not yes.
Instead, I heard myself ask, “Get out of here where?”
Viper’s eyes lit instantly. “There are guest suites open on the middle floors. Private rooms for guests who need quieter entertainment.”
My stomach flipped hard enough that I set my champagne glass down carefully before I dropped it. Because I knew exactly what those rooms were for. Training covered that discreetly yesterday morning. Guests could use the rooms privately throughout the evening.
Staff were not prohibited from accompanying them, so long as participation remained consensual and no disturbances were caused. Very professional wording for rich people sex rooms.
“Nora,” Blade said quietly, cutting through the noise in my head. “You don’t have to.”
That actually made things worse. Because he meant it. All three of them waited calmly instead of pushing. No pressure. No expectation. Just possibility. Which left the decision entirely mine.
I thought about Ethan. About two careful years of sex that never once made me feel reckless enough to forget my own name.
Then I looked at these men. At Stryker watching me like he’d already decided he’d follow whatever answer I gave.
At Blade staying deliberately steady so I wouldn’t feel cornered.
At Viper somehow managing to look patient despite clearly wanting to drag me upstairs immediately.
And maybe it was the champagne. Maybe it was turning twenty-one in less than an hour. Maybe it was exhaustion from years of surviving carefully. But suddenly, I didn’t want to be responsible for one night.
I wanted this.
“I should say no,” I admitted softly.
“But?” Viper asked.
I looked down at my hands once before meeting Stryker’s eyes again. “I’m not going to.”
Nobody spoke immediately after that. Blade exhaled slowly through his nose. Viper leaned back looking deeply satisfied with life. Stryker just held my gaze another second before standing and offering me his hand. Not demanding. Not possessive. Just there.
I took it anyway.
I couldn’t tell you how I got to the guest suite; my focus was entirely on them. And I didn’t come back to my senses until I finally was inside the suite itself.
The guest suite looked bigger than our entire apartment back home.
Soft lighting glowed against dark furniture, while distant music from downstairs barely reached through the walls.
The room smelled faintly of expensive detergent and whiskey and something masculine that became stronger once the door shut behind us.
I stood near the foot of the bed, trying very hard not to panic now that everything felt real instead of theoretical. All four of us were still fully dressed. Which somehow made the atmosphere worse. Or better. Definitely more dangerous.
Viper loosened his tie further while watching me carefully. “You alright?”
“Ask me in ten minutes.”
That dragged quiet laughter out of Blade while Stryker stepped closer, slowly enough that I could’ve backed away if I wanted to. I didn’t.
“You can still change your mind,” Blade reminded me gently.
“I know.”
And I did know. That was the thing. Nobody here felt unsafe. Unreal maybe. Temporary definitely. But safe.
Viper moved closer behind me then, hands finding my waist lightly enough that I could still step away.
“You’re shaking,” he murmured.
“I noticed.”
“Nervous?”
“Yes.”
Blade stopped in front of me while Stryker stayed close enough at my side that heat surrounded me from all directions now.
“You want slow?” Blade asked.
God. The fact that they kept asking nearly undid me more than anything else.
I nodded once.
“Okay,” he said simply.
Then he kissed me. Softly at first. Carefully enough that my entire body tightened before slowly loosening again when nothing about the kiss felt rushed.
Behind me, Viper’s hands slid slowly along my waist while Stryker touched my jaw with rough fingers that tilted my face slightly toward Blade.
The room blurred around the edges after that, but definitely not from alcohol.
From finally letting myself stop thinking and just feel.