THE MASK

THE MASK

There was a knock on the door. Donald, toweling dry his wet hair, walked over and opened it. It was Nathan.

“Come in,” he said casually, walking away.

Nathan stepped inside and closed the door behind him.

Donald stood before his mirror, wiping his wet body down with the towel. Nathan, meanwhile, couldn't help but steal a look at him.

He had a body made to perfection, and the tattoo that ran across his back only added to his appeal.

What are you doing? Nathan scolded himself. He was admiring Donald. How stupid of him.

“You sent for me,” he said, trying to stay composed.

“Yes.” Donald flashed him that usual mischievous grin—the one that always made Nathan uneasy and irritated. He was up to something, as usual.

“I need your help,” Donald said as he slid open the doors to his walk-in closet. “I have an event to attend, and I’m indecisive about what to wear.”

“Being your personal stylist isn’t part of my job,” Nathan pointed out. 

“I pay you,” Donald replied flatly, laying three well-tailored tuxedos on the bed. “You’ll do whatever I ask of you. Now, pick one.”

Nathan’s eyes darted from the outfits to Donald, who waited eagerly for his answer. The red tuxedo was too dark—too flashy. It’d make him look like a circus clown. Not like he really cared.

Black, it'd suit him. Evil people like him didn’t deserve any bit of color in their lives.

“You should wear the black,” Nathan finally said.

“Great minds think alike.” Donald held the black tux against his body. “It’ll look good, right?”

“I have no idea,” Nathan replied, trying to keep the sarcasm low. But he wasn’t ready for what happened next.

The towel dropped to the floor, and a sharp gasp escaped his lips. Donald was now in sheer white boxers, and the bulge... well, Nathan was envious—and mesmerized, to say the least.

He tried not to stare, but his eyes had a mind of their own. He quickly looked away when Donald met his gaze.

“Don’t act like a prude,” Donald said as he slipped into his trousers. “You’ve seen it before.” He winked.

Nathan stood there like the dutiful stylist that he was, watching his boss get dressed. He hated to admit it, but Donald was undeniably attractive. Women would be drooling over him at the event—and some men too, no doubt.

Donald? He seemed to enjoy the attention. From anyone, especially Nathan.

“Get dressed,” Donald said, fixing his cufflinks. “You’re coming along.”

Nathan knew that. What he didn’t know was what to wear. His only tuxedo was in a sodden pile back in his room. He couldn't wear dirty clothes.

As if reading his mind, Donald said, “I recently bought two new tuxedos, one size too small. They’ll fit you perfectly.”

“What makes you think so?”

“They will,” Donald replied with confidence. “I know for a fact.” He winked again. Nathan threw him a murderous glare.

Donald really knew how to get on his nerves.

Back in his room, Nathan changed into one of the tuxedos. Just as Donald had said, it fit perfectly. Who could guess he was a mere bodyguard in such an elegant outfit?

After admiring himself in the mirror—just for a moment—he returned to the front door where Donald waited for him.

A sleek black Range Rover Velar was parked outside. Nathan, being the designated driver, opened the door for Donald and shut it behind him before getting behind the wheel.

“Where are we headed to, sir?” he asked, glancing at him through the rearview mirror.

“Don Palermo’s mansion,” Donald said, his eyes glued to his phone.

They made the silent drive to one of the city’s most extravagant estates.

Don Palermo—The city’s biggest oil magnate. And one of its most dangerous men.

The valets collected the keys as Nathan and Donald entered the grand mansion. A woman in a skimpy dress greeted them, handing each a mask.

“Enjoy the party, sir,” she said with an alluring smile.

Nathan noted the unnoticeable differences between his and Donald’s masks but didn’t give it much thought.

“Mr. Ervin.” Two men excused themselves from the company of some ladies and approached them.

“It’s been a while,” said the taller of the duo. His tone was oddly familiar.

Nathan raised a brow. How did they recognize him? Everyone wore masks. Dozens of men had the exact same tuxedo Donald wore. Yet these two knew exactly who he was.

Donald didn’t seem fazed. “I had to show up. Everyone’s dying to see me.”

“Exactly,” the shorter man said, his voice gruff. “There’s always someone dying.”

“Enjoy the party,” they both said, disappearing back into the crowd.

Nathan suddenly had the urge to pee. Why now? Where was he supposed to relieve himself.

"The toilet's right down the hall." Donald said before walking away to join some men seated at rhe bar.

That man was definitely reading his mind. Nathan found the toilet, he relieved himself and walked to the sink to wash his hands.

Two men walked in, discussing.

"We take him out tonight." The bearded one stood before the stall, fiddling with his zipper which was hidden beneath his potbelly.

"Have you got the sniper ready?" The other eased himself. " We have to be extremely careful."

For some reason, the tap had run out of water which made him stay long enough to hear their conversation.

"There's a lot of people present." The man finally got his zipper down. "If we shoot the wrong person, we're dead."

"Don't worry about that." The other man smiled, a dangerous smile. "Mary's taken care of that."

Mary? The man scoffed. "You sure she knows what she's supposed to do?"

"Yes." The other man nodded. "His mask is different from everybody's own." He revealed. "Just spot the man with tbe red highlight on his mask, he's our guy."

Nathan froze. The red highlight, those men! They wanted Donald dead!