3. Silver Mask

Marissa POV

"You see how we cut the line? No hassle. We are hot, babe," Hailey said, adjusting her cleavage in the mirror-lined hallway. Her blonde hair was snatched back into a high, lethal ponytail, her green eyes popping against thick, dark mascara. She looked like a predator in her shimmering bodycon dress.

I, on the other hand, felt like a woman reborn in crimson. My red, sleeveless gown clung to my curves, the slit running high up my thigh, teasing with every step. My brunette hair was styled in deep, glossy Hollywood waves, and my makeup was a masterpiece of "revenge chic" a sharp winged liner and a blood-red lip that screamed I was no longer the girl waiting at home with a pot roast.

"Damn," Hailey smirked, glancing at the line of girls outside. "Those ladies still waiting might curse us out. Let them. We’ve already achieved the goal."

We pushed into the heart of the club. The air was thick with the scent of expensive perfume, high end gin, and the low thrum of deep house music. Hailey leaned in close to my ear, her voice barely audible over the beat.

"This is the spot, Marissa. New York’s best. But look up there," she pointed to a frosted glass balcony overlooking the floor. "That is the VVIP tier. The highest ranking. Those people don't even let their faces be seen. They wear masks the entire night...total anonymity, total power. You don't get up there unless you're a god or a monster."

"And what are we?" I asked, feeling the tequila from earlier hum in my veins.

"Tonight? We are whatever we want to be."

We headed to the bar. The bartender was in his mid-twenties, clearly Japanese, with hard, sculpted biceps that looked like they were carved from marble. I couldn't help but stare as he expertly flipped a shaker.

"That’s rude," he said suddenly, his eyes snapping to mine.

I furrowed my brows. Out of all the women practically drooling over him, he chose to call me out? "What do you mean?"

"The ring," he said, pointing a tattooed finger at my left hand. "It signifies you are married, isn't it?. Looking at me like that... it’s a bit of a double standard, don't you think?"

I froze. I hadn't even noticed I was still wearing it. Three years of habit had made the gold band feel like a part of my skin. I felt a surge of nausea, then a flash of heat. I yanked the ring off and shoved it into my clutch.

"Arigato," I muttered, trying to soften the tension.

He didn't smile. His brow furrowed deeper. "I may look Japanese, but I'm actually Taiwanese. Maybe ask before assuming next time."

Goddamn. My luck was abysmal. If I kept offending everyone I met, I was definitely not getting laid tonight.

I apologized and turned to leave, only to see a tall, brown haired guy trying to corner Hailey. He had his shirt halfway unbuttoned, flexing his abs like a peacock.

"Can I get the lady's bill?" he asked, flashing a row of perfectly white teeth.

Hailey didn't miss a beat. "If you’re paying for mine, you’re paying for hers. We're a package deal."

"If that's what the lady wants!" He blew her an air-kiss.

I didn't stay to watch the flirting. I downed my last shot of alcohol, the burn felt like life returning to my veins and leaned into Hailey’s ear. "I’m getting on the dance floor."

"Okay! Call me if you need anything. Be careful, Marissa!"

The world was starting to tilt, a pleasant drowsiness settling into my bones. But then, the beat changed. The slow, heavy thrum of One of the Girls by The Weeknd, Lily-Rose Depp and Jennie started to pulse through the speakers. It was sensual, dark, and exactly how I felt.

I made my way to the middle of the room. I started dancing, my body moving like liquid, my eyes half-closed. I wasn't dancing for Ethan. I was dancing for the woman I had buried three years ago.

Then, I felt it. A gaze so heavy it felt like a physical touch.

I looked up toward the VVIP balcony. A man was standing there, shrouded in shadows. He wore a dark, intricate silver mask that covered the upper half of his face, but his jawline was sharp enough to draw blood. He was watching me. Not like a guy at a bar, but like a predator watching his next meal.

My heart skipped a beat. I didn't look away. I leaned into the music, letting my movements become more provocative, more sensual, my eyes locked on the silver mask above.

A few minutes later, a hand touched my shoulder. It wasn't Hailey. It was a man in a black suit—security.

"Ma'am," he whispered. "A gentleman from the upper tier would like to invite you for a drink. Privately."

I glanced at Hailey, who was busy laughing with the brown-haired guy, then back at the balcony. The silver mask was gone. He was waiting.

"Lead the way," I said, my voice steady despite the adrenaline coursing through me.

He led me through a hidden door, up a velvet lined staircase, and into a dimly lit lounge that smelled of sandalwood and power.

He then abruptly paused and turned to me. he held out a silver tray. On it sat a delicate black net mask, shimmering with tiny obsidian crystals.

I looked at the mask, then back at the balcony. "Why the mask?"

"For your privacy, too," the guard said, his voice was void of emotion.

I took it. The cool silk felt like a dare. I slipped it over my eyes, the world turning into a hazy, provocative mesh. I followed him up the velvet stairs, my heart thumping a faster beat than the music below.

The man was standing by the window, his back to me. He had discarded his jacket, his white dress shirt stretched tight across broad shoulders.

"I have been staring at you for a long time, Marissa," he said.

His voice was a deep, textured baritone that vibrated right through my chest. I froze, my pulse spiking. "How do you know my name? The masks are supposed to keep us anonymous."

He turned slowly. Up close, he was devastating. The silver mask made his eyes look like burning coals, and his hot pink lips were even more distracting now that they were inches away. He took a slow, deliberate sip of amber liquid from a crystal glass, his gaze raking over my body behind the black net.

"I make it my business to know the names of things I find beautiful," he rumbled, stepping into my space. He was tall towering over me and the heat coming off him was intoxicating. He set the glass down and closed the distance until I could feel the silk of his shirt brushing my bare arms.

"Tell me," he whispered, his voice dropping an octave as he moved even closer. "Was that performance on the floor for the room? Were you trying to see how many men you could break tonight, or were you just trying to see if I was paying attention?"

"Maybe I just like the attention," I breathed, my heart hammering against my ribs. Damn the tequila has gotten me pretty bold isn't it?

"Liar," he murmured. He reached out, his long fingers ghosting over the strap of my gown before his thumb hooked under my chin, tilting my head back. His touch was electric, sparking against my skin like a live wire. "You were dancing like a woman who wanted to burn her life down. It almost seemed like you were dancing for me."

I looked up at him through the black net, my breath hitching as his thumb moved to my bottom lip, pressing down with a possessive weight that made my knees weak.

"I wasn't dancing for you okay? By the way don't you think courtesy demands that you share your name too since you know mine?"

"Names don't matter behind these masks," he whispered, his face so close I could feel his breath. "Tonight, you are just a woman who wants to forget she exists. And I am the man who's going to make sure you do."

I didn't ask who he was. I didn't care about the $300 million or the divorce. I reached up, my fingers tangling in the dark, cool strands of his jet black hair, pulling him closer.

"Then stop talking," I challenged.

He didn't need to be told twice. He pulled me into him, his hand sliding down to the small of my back to crush me against him. As his lips crashed against mine, the world outside and Ethan completely vanished.