Chapter One – “Gold Mask, Red Mouth”

New York City – The Gilded Room 

2 weeks later…

Celeste's pov

“Don't look at me like that,” Celeste Rivera muttered, tugging her coat tighter. “I said I'd go, isn't that enough?”

Vivian rolled her eyes. “You said you'd come, true. But you didn't say you'd participate.”

It was Celeste's turn to roll her eyes at her friend. “I'm not participating in anything. I'm just going to watch.”

Sasha, her loquacious friend and former roommate, laughed behind them. “Sure. That is what I told myself the first night, only for me to wake up the next day on a rooftop with a tattoo and no panties.”

“God,” Celeste groaned but the corner of her lips were curved up in a smile.

It had been exactly a week since her engagement collapsed in front of a ballroom full of DC's society finest. The Monroe family had publicly withdrawn from the marriage, citing “personal incompatibilities”.

There was nothing she could get her father and ex fiancé to do. Just like that, her future had disappeared in the span of a toast.

“You need this,” Vivian looped her arm through hers as they turned down a narrow alley lit by a single golden lantern. “It's one night, you don't even have to exchange names or worry about your family and their politics. Besides, we'll be wearing masks.”

“I don't know, Vivian…it all sounds a little too much.”

“Tonight, you know, Celeste.” Vivian replied, handing her a butterfly shaped mask.

The Gilded room, in downtown New York didn't advertise, they didn't need to. Honestly, it looked sketchy and scary and Celeste held on to Vivian and Sasha a little tighter.

A gold door was guarded by a man in a white tuxedo and a straight face. She couldn't hear music or shouts, but then again this was New York and it could go underground.

The man scanned them once then nodded them in. As soon as the door opened, bass thumped through Celeste's chest like a second heartbeat. They were not underground but the entire club was sound proof.

Celeste's fingers curled around her butterfly shaped mask. It was made of a delicate gold piece with red gemstones. Celeste had gone bold with her lipstick choice too, encouraged by Sasha. Golden chandeliers glittered while masked bodies moved, gyrating to the very loud music.

“Anyone want drinks?” Sasha offered, holding up two champagne flutes.

Celeste grabbed one. “If I'm doing this, I'll be doing it drunk. At least to numb the pain my heart feels.”

She snared at her friends when they rolled their eyes at her. The music changed, and it made her head feel strangely light. She turned, already longing for the exit, when she saw….him.

Leaning against a velvet pillar, half in shadow and half bathed by the lights. He was dressed in a black suit, and a black mask. She dragged her eyes over him, taking in his broad chest and strong jaw. 

He was too handsome a man. She blinked, suddenly realising that she didn't want to look away. Heat bloomed in her throat.

Beside her, Vivian followed her eyes. “You know, you should go talk to him. Men like him are exactly why we came here, girl.”

“Hard pass.” She croaked, finally dragging her eyes away. He was now watching her and she could feel his eyes on her. 

“I saw you ogling him. You even looked at him a full minute.”

“I'm just…wondering who he is.” Celeste bit back, a little too defensively.

“Oh please, go talk to him. Remember, no names. It's just a fun night.” Sasha piqued in.

“Exactly.” Vivian echoed, already shoving her out of her seat.

Celeste's feet moved before her brain caught up. She took one slow step after another until she was standing in front of him.

“You've been staring…” she said, then instantly regretted using that line as an opener.

His lips twisted into a slow smile. “So have you.” 

His voice was deep, like velvet and danger. She didn't know why but it made something twist low in her belly.

“Are you here alone?” She asked again, trying to force the nerves down.

“Does it matter?” He asked, titling his head slightly to the side as his eyes fell to her lips and back to her face. 

“No.” She answered, realising she was breathing a little too heavily. “That's the point right?”

“Red lipstick suits you.” His eyes were back to her lips now, and she lowered her eyes, suddenly shy.

“So does mystery.” She replied, raising her eyes back to his. She was enjoying this repartee.

He stepped closer, his hand slowly brushing her arm. It was a light touch, but it felt to Celeste like she'd been pricked by a needle.

“Dance with me.” He said suddenly, never taking his eyes off her.

“I don't dance.” She replied, chuckling softly.

He smiled, and it felt like the wind was knocked out of her lungs. It was a charming smile. “Then stand still. I'll move around you, the main aim of dancing is movement right?”

That line should have made her laugh, instead she nodded, surprising serious. He guided her to the edge of the floor, close enough that she could feel his body heat and his breath fanning against her face.

She didn't know his name, and she couldn't see his eyes, but the way he touched her waist, the way he leaned in just enough to make her body hum, made her feel like she did.

“I don't normally do this.” She whispered.

“I know.” 

“How?” She asked, narrowing her eyes at him.

He didn't answer her, just looked at her like he already owned every bit of her body. Like he wanted her, and badly too.

“Why're you looking at me like that?” She asked biting her lower lip.

“Because I know what you need tonight…” he drawled, leaning down to whisper into her ear. 

“And what's that?” She damn near breathed.

His lips brushed her ear, softly. “To forget, to be wanted, to be fucked.”

She gasped, not sure what to say. He was so bold, so brazen. It turned her on. 

“What do you say?”

Celeste bit her lower lip, her mind already made up. “Take me somewhere, anywhere.”

And that's exactly what he did.

He led her through a side door and down a velvet lined hallway, and then briskly up a staircase that curved elegantly. Like cursive writing.

When they reached the suit, he opened the door, and gestured for her to go in.

What the hell am I doing? She asked herself, but it was already too late. She wanted this.

It was as a hotel suite would look like. Red and black silk curtain, a wide bed in the middle of the room. 

Celeste swallowed and then turned to face him. Once again, she let her eyes dance up and down his body for he had quite an impressive one.

“Do you want another drink?" The words rolled off his lips, smoothly and his quiet timbre made her skin tingle. He nodded in the direction of the mini bar at the other end of the room. 

No. She did not want another drink. She wanted him. Celeste did not say this out loud, instead shook her head.

She nodded.

"Take off your coat."

Her fingers fumbled with the buttons, she was suddenly shaky. She dropped it on the floor, standing in a black dress that clung to every curve. 

A thrill ran through her when she saw his eyes darken as he eye fucked her. He closed the distance between them in two quick steps, and touched the edge of her mask.

She let him take it off, biting her lower lip and thinking how strange and yet wickedly exciting it all was. She reciprocated the favour, but burying her fingers first in his hair before taking his off.

He was handsome, breathtakingly so, and it was all she could do not to give him the ‘googly eyes.’

“You're pretty.” And then his hands were sliding to her waist and pulling her closer and she felt the heat of him and the swelling in his pants as it pressed into her thigh.

His mouth found her neck, losing her lightly there, before biting, just enough to make her moan.

“You taste like trouble.” He whispered into her neck.

"And you taste like danger," she replied, breath hitching.

He smiled against her skin. Then he kissed her—slow at first, his lips brushing hers, teasing. She leaned in, needing more. His hand tangled in her hair as the kiss deepened, harder, hotter. Her body melted against him.

He turned her around, unzipping her dress inch by inch, mouth trailing down her back. When the fabric fell, she stepped out, revealing black lace underneath. He groaned.

"You’re fucking gorgeous."

She turned, watching his eyes darken. He pressed her against the wall, lips devouring her skin. His fingers slid between her thighs, teasing her through the lace until she whimpered.

"Say what you want, Celeste."

She trembled.

"Say it," he growled.

"Touch me. Please."

His hand slipped under the lace, stroking her slick folds. She gasped, head falling back. He circled her clit slowly, pushing her closer. Her legs shook. He caught her, lifted her onto a nearby table.

He dropped to his knees, spreading her thighs. She cried out when his mouth found her, licking and sucking with no mercy. He devoured her until she was shaking, begging, clenching around nothing.

She came hard, gripping his hair, screaming.

He stood, undoing his shirt and belt. She watched him strip down, breathless. He was all muscle, all power, all male. Her eyes dropped to his cock—thick, hard, perfect.

He stepped between her legs, pulled her close. She wrapped around him, pressing her mouth to his throat.

He laid her back on the bed, climbing over her like a predator.

"Look at me," he said, voice like gravel.

She did. His eyes burned into hers as he pushed inside. Deep. Stretching her wide. She cried out, clinging to him. He started slow, then harder, rougher, fucking her like he owned her.

He pinned her wrists above her head, body slamming into hers. She moaned into his neck, and he whispered filth into her ear.

"You like that? This tight pussy taking all of me?"

"Yes, sir," she panted, not even thinking.

"Say it again." He stayed still, watching her.

"Yes, sir."

He flipped her onto her stomach, grabbed her hips, and slammed into her from behind. She screamed, face buried in the pillow, his name a broken sound on her lips.

He reached around to rub her clit, sending her over the edge again. Her body spasmed, trembling. He kept thrusting, chasing his own release.

****

Morning came too quickly. Celeste squinted against the sunlight slicing through the hotel’s floor-to-ceiling windows. Her head throbbed, a slow, pulsing ache at her temples. 

She was sprawled across white sheets, now wrinkled and clinging to her like memories she didn’t ask for. One leg was tangled, the other bare. Her mouth was dry. Her thighs were sore. Her lipstick had vanished somewhere between the second cocktail and the fourth bad decision.

She blinked slowly, let her eyes adjust. Sat up. He was gone. No note on the pillow. No scribbled number on the nightstand.

Just silence, the scent of cologne she couldn’t quite place, and a faint bruise blooming on her hip.

Celeste let out a long breath and reached for her phone. Dead. Of course. She plugged it in and padded across the plush carpet to grab the water bottle by the minibar. It was warm. She drank it anyway.

When her phone finally buzzed back to life, her lock screen lit up with three missed texts—from Vivian.

“Holy shit,” Vivian’s voice came through instantly. “You’re alive.”

“Barely.”

“I thought he chopped you up and left you in a tub full of ice.”

“No bathtub,” Celeste murmured, rubbing her eyes. “Just an empty bed.”

Vivian whistled. “Oof. No name?”

“Not even a letter. He Houdini’d the hell out of here.”

“Damn. How was it though?”

Celeste collapsed back onto the bed with a groan. “Wild. Like... teeth and hands and growling.”

“Growling?”

“I think he bit me. I have proof.”

“You always say you want someone who can throw you around a little. Sounds like a dream.”

“It felt like a dream. Until I woke up and couldn’t remember half of it.”

Vivian was quiet for a beat. “Do you feel okay?”

“I’m fine. Physically. Just…” Celeste glanced around the room again. “It’s weird. He was so intense. It felt like something. And now he’s just... gone.”

“Maybe that was the something,” Vivian said gently. “A moment. Not a story.”

Celeste pulled the sheet tighter around her chest and stared at the bruise again. “Yeah. Maybe.”

Vivian sighed on the other end. “Wanna come over? I have pancakes. And stories of my own poor choices.”

Celeste smiled faintly. “Yeah, I’ll be there soon.”

She ended the call, letting the quiet settle around her again. Her eyes drifted to the floor, where her dress lay in a glittery, defeated puddle.

She sighed, dragging her fingers through her hair.

“What the hell did I do last night?”