Chapter 10 Violet
Chapter ten
Violet
“Look,” Millie says, tapping an acrylic over my laptop screen. “This is Chase’s date.”
“Ow—shoot!” I yelp, jerking back as the curling tong grazes my scalp. Still, the burn is a welcome distraction from the sinking feeling in my chest as Millie tilts the screen toward me.
Hundreds of images flood the display—Chase’s supposed date for the Masquerade Ball tonight. A former Miss USA. A beauty queen. No less.
My stomach knots, but I force my expression into something resembling indifference.
Setting down the curling tong, I shift toward Millie, who’s sprawled out on my bed, oblivious to the tightness in my throat.
Each photo is like a fresh stab to the heart as my eyes skim over a real-life queen, hands clasped in jubilation as she stands on a stage, a glittering tiara perched atop her cascade of perfect, red waves.
There are hundreds of photos—charity galas, high-society events—flawless in every single one.
Apparently, beauty queens don’t have off days.
I know why Millie’s doing this—she’s making sure I keep my distance. Reminding me of what Chase is. And what I am not.
“I think she’s the ambassador for the charity associated with the ball tonight,” Millie muses, setting the laptop aside.
But as I drag a bold red lipstick across my lips, in the mirror’s reflection, the images still taunt me. A shining crown. A perfect smile.
I clamp my teeth together, checking for smudges, then flick my gaze back to my reflection, determined not to dwell on it. Tonight is about having fun.
“Okay, Mills, I’m done. We should get going,” I say, spritzing myself with perfume. “Seb just texted—our Uber will be here in five.”
I stand, smoothing my dress down as I reach for my mask.
Millie and I found the perfect ones in a vintage store—mine is midnight blue, embossed with silver jewels and edged with black feathers, a perfect match for my gown.
The dress is a deep midnight blue with a subtle shimmer of silver woven through the silk fabric.
It hugs my curves, fitted through the waist and hips, flowing down to my ankles with a split on one side.
The neckline is more daring than I would usually go for, but the touch of anonymity the beautifully ornate masks provide makes me feel more reckless, less like I need to hide.
Although the sexiest feature of the dress has to be, the low scooped back, leaving my skin bare except for the delicate spaghetti straps resting against my shoulders.
I check my reflection one last time, adjusting my mask just as Gracie appears in my doorway, letting out a low whistle as her gaze sweeps over me. “Oh my god, Violet, you look stunning. You’ll definitely pull tonight.”
“Thank you, Gracie.” I smile, tossing her a wink. “Your ‘best sister’ crown remains intact.”
“I’m your only sister,” she says, quirking a brow. “Not much of an accolade. By the way, is that hot guy going to be there?”
“Hot guy?” Millie perks up with a smirk. “Oh, you kept that quiet, Vi.”
“You should have seen him,” Gracie sighs, fanning her face. “Oh my word, he was a walking orgasm.”
“Gracie May Harper,” I scold, suppressing a grin.
“Don’t keep me in suspense, then,” Millie says, her eyes flicking between us. “Who the fuck is he?”
“Just some Tinder date,” I say with a shrug, feigning disinterest. “We didn’t really have anything in common.
To be honest, he was way out of my league, and he pretty much ghosted me after.
” It’s not a total lie. It’s a pretty accurate representation of what’s happened since my kiss with Chase.
I’ve seen him perhaps once or twice in passing, and it’s as if I never existed—exactly as I requested.
Praying my flushed cheeks don’t give me away, I snatch my clutch and clear my throat. “Oh, look,” I add, a little too brightly. “Seb and Ryan just pulled up.”
As I jog toward the Uber, Gracie calls after me, “Stop putting yourself down! No way is he out of your league. He’d be lucky to have you.”
“Best sister crown and all that,” I call back with a grin as the car rolls forward.
“Hey, Gracie!” Seb leans past me, sticking his head out the window. “I’ll be at your next game.”
Gracie’s face twists in horror. “Absolutely not, Seb! You’re banned for life!”
I laugh, waving. “Love you!” I watch her shrink into the distance as we speed away.
“Okay,” Seb says, rubbing his hands together in glee. “Time to get shitfaced on the company payroll.”
“Last time you said that,” I remind him, shooting him a look. “I ended up going home with one shoe on.”
“A real-life Cinderella,” Ryan quips, smirking.
“No, more like a real-life idiot,” Seb corrects with a grin, earning himself a slap on the back from Millie.
Millie peers out the window as we glide through the city, her eyes widening with delight. “God, I love nights like this. There’s something about dressing up and pretending we belong in a world like this.”
“Are we expecting this thing to be fun?” Ryan says with a yawn, stretching out his legs. “Or are we bracing for an evening of small talk with finance?”
“Nope, the only person I plan on spending quality time with is the barman.” Seb winks.
I shake my head, but as I glance out the window, my breath catches. The hotel looms ahead, its entrance framed by gilded lights, a steady stream of masked guests stepping onto the red carpet.
The car slows to a stop. I smooth my dress, nerves flickering beneath my excitement.
Millie nudges me with her elbow. “Breathe, Vi. You look hot, and we’re about to have the best night of our lives.”
The moment we step through the grand doors of the Waldorf, it’s like we stepped into a fairytale.
A sweeping marble foyer unfolds before us, illuminated by the soft glow of crystal chandeliers.
Guests drift through the space like living works of art—men in stylish tuxedos, their masks sleek and understated, women draped in shimmering silk and intricate lace, their faces hidden behind delicate filigree and feathers.
A row of servers stand poised at the entrance, silver trays balanced effortlessly in gloved hands, offering flutes of champagne that catch the light like liquid gold.
I pluck one from the tray, fingers grazing the chilled glass as I take it all in.
“Wow, this is breathtaking,” Millie says, her eyes on stalks as we navigate the grand staircase curving toward the ballroom.
“Fancy schmancy,” I say with a low whistle, giggling at the sight of Seb in a mask, his glasses resting on top. Ryan looks effortlessly handsome, his silk black mask contrasting with his blonde hair and smart black tux.
The elaborately carved double doors to the ballroom are wide open, the sound of the party already in full swing spilling down the stairway.
The nerves in my belly seem to jump in time with the heavy thud of the bass.
Already, the dancefloor is popping, a vast, glittering expanse of masked figures weaving in and out of the darkness as strobe lights mingle with the low-hanging chandeliers, patterns of light swirling on the parquet floor with an ethereal glow.
A DJ stands elevated at the far end of the room, his booth framed by tall candelabras that seem to flicker and dance on every surface.
Servers glide between the guests, their silver trays balancing bubbling champagne and jewel-toned cocktails.
“This shit is crazy,” Seb says, downing his champagne in one and smacking it down on the nearest surface before swiping another from the endless stream of passing servers. “It’s like some freaky Illuminati shit.”
“Yeah, the blood-drinking ritual starts at eleven,” Ryan says, checking an imaginary watch. Taking a sip of his champagne, he lowers his voice, beckoning us closer with a crooked finger. “I heard Chase hoards human blood in a secret vault in his basement.”
Millie rolls her eyes while Seb stifles a mock gasp. “We all know that’s not possible, Ryan,” Seb says drily, fixing his glasses straight. “He doesn’t have blood running through his veins, only dollar bills.”
Ryan stiffens, his head motioning to the door. “Shhh. Speak of the devil.”
On instinct, we all turn as if the King himself has arrived. Chase strides into the ballroom, looking swoon-worthy in a black tuxedo. His dark eyes and tan skin striking against a simple black velvet mask.
“Oh my, he looks like a sexier version of Zorro,” Millie says, her voice taking on a strange, husky tone.
I remain silent. I’m too busy shrinking inside at the goddess by his side.
She sparkles in gold, her dress embossed with jewels, as if they’ve been woven into her skin.
Her red hair flows down her back in soft curls, and a gold mask completes the look flawlessly.
Chase’s gaze wanders in our direction, but I look away quickly.
I take a large swig of my champagne, determined not to be affected by the sight of his hand gently brushing her lower back as he leads her toward the roped-off staircase that leads to the VIP section.
A mezzanine level with balconies that curve elegantly around the ballroom.
A place where upper management can peer down like royalty at the peasants below.
One champagne quickly becomes three. Or is it four?
Followed by the obligatory round of tequila shots at Seb’s insistence.
The dance floor becomes more enticing with each glass.
The music is so loud we’ve given up on conversation and resorted to Seb entertaining us with stupid dance moves.
Millie and Bethany wave to us from the center of the dance floor.
Laughing, I follow Seb, with Ryan right behind me, as Seb shimmies through the crowd, bumping into people along the way thanks to his misplaced glasses.
I’m having so much fun, I’ve almost forgotten a certain domineering CEO who almost ruined me with one brutal kiss.
To my pride, I’ve avoided looking at him all evening.
I ignore the tiny voice inside, reminding me of the monumental effort it’s taken to pretend I don’t care.
Pretend I’m not imagining him choking on one of the elaborate gold jewels sewn on his beauty queen’s dress.
But I can only ignore the demon on my shoulder for so long before his claws draw blood.
Ryan’s hands find my shoulders, and he spins me back, catching me off balance.
My ankle buckles in my stilettos, but I pull myself upright, grabbing his hand as he spins me to face him. Laughing, I fall into his chest.
“Dammit, Ryan, you nearly made me fall.” He twirls me again, the room spinning in a blur of color and light. I plant my feet firmly, grounding myself, but as I turn back toward Ryan, something unseen grips me. A pull I can’t ignore.
My head tilts up, against my will.
Chase is watching me.
A slow heat unfurls across my skin as his eyes drag over me.
I try to pull myself out of the moment, tear my gaze away, but it keeps flicking back as if he can draw me in with the sheer force of his will.
Something in his eyes commands me. It’s as if he’s threading his fingers through my body, controlling every pulse, every breath, every slow, aching shift of my hips.
I blink, thrown off, as a raven-haired beauty in a devil-red mask emerges beside him.
She’s just as stunning as the flame-haired goddess draped over him earlier.
Ugh. Maybe he keeps a roster of women on rotation to satisfy his every whim.
She melts into his side, lips grazing his ear, murmuring what I can only assume are sweet nothings.
Chase doesn’t flinch. Doesn’t even blink.
It’s like she doesn’t exist. His eyes stay locked on me, a dark energy I can’t name dancing in his eyes.
When she catches me staring, she flashes me a condescending smirk as if to say you’re wasting your time, honey. It’s enough of a reality check to snap my head back to where it should be. With my friends. Having fun. Forgetting Chase.
I need a breather.
Muttering an excuse, I weave through the crowd, slipping out in search of a bathroom. The champagne clouds my focus. I take a few wrong turns, leading me down a maze of hallways before finally finding one. Bracing my hands on the sink, I lean forward, my breath uneven, my pulse hammering.
Then, I catch my reflection.
Flushed cheeks. Green eyes that are nearly black. Razor-sharp nipples straining against my dress. I look like I’ve just been thoroughly fucked.
A groan slips out. I press a finger over one aching peak, hoping to calm the unbearable tightness.
It does the opposite. A low whimper escapes, heat pooling between my thighs, my panties already impossibly slick.
Every inch of me on fire, craving the touch and scent of a man who could never be mine.
I squeeze my eyes shut, inhaling deeply, begging my body to behave.
I need to get it together.
Before I do something stupid.