The heir's mask

THE HEIR'S MASK 

Chapter 1

Expensive perfume mingled with the faint metallic scent of power. Steve Vanderbilt stood at the center of it all. Wealth felt like a prison, he often thought. At twenty-seven, he was everything New York’s elite wanted to be. His tailored black Tom Ford suit gave him commanding presence without effort. A practiced smile played on his lips as he nodded at senators and tech moguls, one arm loosely wrapped around Lila Monroe’s slim waist.

Lila looked exquisite—beautiful and ambitious enough to advertise availability without screaming desperation. She was the perfect prop for the night. Some women wished they could be her. Willing to play the role of devoted girlfriend in exchange for the status and the monthly deposits into her account, she leaned into him, murmuring something about the latest art auction. Steve wasn’t listening.

His gaze had already locked onto the only person in the room who mattered.

Ken Thompson.

Ken stood near the bar in a charcoal suit that was good, but not Vanderbilt-level perfect. He laughed at something an older investor was saying. His jaw was sharp, his shoulders strong from years of carrying the weight of his own stubborn principles. Even from across the room, Steve could see the faint stubble along his jaw and the way his throat moved when he swallowed.

Fuck.

Steve’s cock twitched inside his slacks. He imagined shoving Ken against the bar, yanking those perfectly pressed trousers down in one swift motion, and burying his face between those firm ass cheeks right here in front of every important name in Manhattan. He wanted to ruin that principled mouth with his dick until Ken gagged and drooled.

“You’re staring again,” Lila whispered. Her fingers tightened on his arm in warning. “People are watching. The cameras are especially on you.”

“I’m networking,” Steve replied smoothly, his voice low. He took a slow sip of his scotch, letting the burn ground him. Inside, his blood was on fire.

He and Ken had been inseparable since boarding school—best friends, brothers in everything but blood. Steve had spent years perfecting the art of hiding what he really wanted: how badly he needed to own every inch of Ken Thompson. To break him open and crawl inside.

Ken turned his head then, as if sensing the weight of Steve’s gaze. Their eyes met. For a second, the rest of the gala disappeared. Steve didn’t smile. He let the mask slip just enough for Ken to see the hunger.

Ken’s jaw flexed. He looked away first, but not before Steve caught the faint flush creeping up his neck.

Good.

Steve excused himself from Lila with a meaningless kiss to her temple, then cut through the crowd like a shark. People parted for him instinctively. He was the heir to Vanderbilt Tech—untouchable. Dangerous.

He stopped close enough that their shoulders nearly brushed. Ken smelled like clean soap and something warmer, more masculine. It made Steve’s mouth water.

“Thompson,” Steve drawled, his voice dripping with signature sarcasm. “Still pretending you belong in this crowd?”

Ken turned, drink in hand. Up close, he was even more devastating. Those warm brown eyes narrowed, and his full lips pressed into a thin line. “Vanderbilt. Still pretending you’re not an entitled prick?”

Steve smirked and stepped closer under the guise of reaching for a fresh drink. His body heat bled into Ken’s space. “You wound me. And here I thought we were friends.”

“We are,” Ken muttered, but tension coiled in his shoulders. “Just… keep it normal tonight, please.”

Normal. Steve wanted to laugh. Normal was him jerking off in the back of his limo earlier, imagining Ken on his knees, choking on his cock while tears ran down that stubborn face. Normal was years of biting his tongue while Ken dated women—especially Sophia, that pretty little distraction who had finally fucked off somewhere.

Steve leaned in, his lips brushing the shell of Ken’s ear as he spoke quietly. “You look tense. Rough week?”

Ken shivered. Barely. But Steve felt it.

“Sophia and I… we’re done,” Ken said tightly. “For good this time.”

Steve’s cock hardened fully at the words. He shifted so the heavy bulge in his slacks pressed briefly against Ken’s hip—subtle enough that no one else would notice, filthy enough that Ken’s breath hitched.

“Poor thing,” Steve murmured, his voice dark and nasty. “Are you all alone now? I swear that tight little hole of yours is aching for my attention.”

Ken jerked back like he’d been burned. “What the fuck is wrong with you tonight?”

Steve smiled. “Nothing. Just saying what we both know is true.” He let his gaze drop deliberately to Ken’s mouth. “You keep saying you’re straight, Ken. So why are you getting hard for me right now?”

Ken’s hand clenched around his glass so tightly Steve thought it might shatter. His cheeks flushed. For one electric second, Steve thought Ken might drag him into the nearest bathroom and finally let him fuck that virgin ass raw.

Instead, Ken stepped back. “Stay the hell away from me tonight, Steve.”

He turned and disappeared into the crowd, but not before Steve saw the way he adjusted himself discreetly.

Steve stayed where he was, sipping his drink, heart hammering with dark triumph. His phone burned in his pocket. He pulled it out, thumbs flying across the screen before he could talk himself out of it.

Steve: You can run all you want, but we both know the truth. I’m going to bend you over and ruin that straight boy pussy until you’re crying my name and begging for my cum.

He sent another.

Steve: I want my tongue in your ass while you try to pretend you don’t love it. I want to feel you clench around my cock when you finally break.

Steve: Tell me to stop and I’ll make it worse.

He slid the phone back into his pocket, cock throbbing painfully against his zipper. Across the room, he watched Ken pull out his own phone. He watched his face go slack with shock, then darken with fury and unmistakable lust.

Ken’s head snapped up. Their eyes locked again.

Steve raised his glass in a mocking toast, letting every filthy intention show on his face. Come find me, he thought. Confront me. Fight me.

Because once Ken stormed over here—angry and hard—Steve wasn’t sure he’d be able to stop himself from dragging his best friend into the shadows and finally taking what had always been his.

His phone buzzed with a reply.

Ken: I’m straight. Stop. For go

od please.

Steve smiled against the rim of his glass.

The night was only beginning.