Beneath The Mask Book Novels & Stories

But then again, I kept wondering while deleting my first impression of her. Her one-of-a-kind beauty even outshined when her face flushed red. I thought she would be using a mask as well. In that way, we could not see each other's faces. I see her now. And she wasn't ugly to my eyes. "Just keep your mask on, please." She requested, lifting the white blanket to her not-so-gifted breast. Well. I would not give a damn about whether her breasts were bulging or not. Several celebrities and models were not that gifted. What mattered to me was the ten thousand dollar payment.

We move to the tables to make our hair and faces match our outfits. Izzy pulls my mask from her drawer, the one rule I always had. My face had to be covered. My family could not find out I was here and they dealt plenty with sleazy men. The masks leaves my mouth open, but covers the top half of my face. "You girls ready?" Thomas asks from the door when he peeks in. "Holy fuck. I don't think I'm ready. You two are delicious."

"I’ll come back. When I can stand beside you without hiding. When I can look you in the eye and know that what we have is real." "And until then, I’m supposed to pretend you didn’t mean anything to me?" She smiled sadly. "No. Just remember me kindly. That’s all I ask." They stood in silence, the garden swaying softly around them. "You know," Ethan said finally, trying to lighten the mood, "I always wondered if the mask was hiding some hideous deformity or if you were just trying to look mysterious." She laughed through her tears. "Maybe both. I do have a slightly crooked nose."

Edward sighed as he accepted the fact that he had to explain his identity when Andrea burst out in tears. "My head hurts so much and I feel so cold. Everyone hates me…" Andrea cried as she held her head. Edward used this time to wear his masquerade mask before walking towards her. "Stay calm and go take your bath. I called a doctor to take care of you." He said as he sat beside her. *What's the use of wearing the mask when she already saw your face?* He asked himself, but disregarded it to focus on persuading her to take her bath.

Midnight stated coldly while his eyes were full of boredom. "Now, now that's not how you greet your cousin Night," Dr. Zithea stated with a mischievous grin and provoking Midnight. "You annoying brat, stop talking. You still owe me something," Midnight said with a glare. "Yea, yea, I'll replace your console. Sheesh, you're rich; you don't need me to be doing that," Dr. Zithea said, then rolled her eyes as a sign of annoyance.

Keysi joined me in laughing, to say, “I really hope she's not that crazy. I nodded in response. I expected the same. … The mask event was for the benefit of the children of a foundation that was in charge of helping children who suffered from severe burns. They paid the expenses of the surgeries, the stay in the hospital, the treatments, and even the therapies. I loved the idea of ​​cooperating with those children by buying masks at the entrance. However, I would not wear that shit that did not let me see well, it also hit the arch of my nose; Besides, it didn't match my dress.

Isla~ I hated masks. Not just because they itched or made it hard to breathe...or, worse, messed with my makeup, but because they were the perfect metaphor for everything I had grown to despise in this new world of mine: secrecy, deception, danger dressed in elegance. "Do we really have to wear these stupid things?" I grumbled, holding the ornate mask delicately between my fingers as the limo hummed smoothly beneath us. Dante didn't say anything right away. He was seated beside me in the back of the stretch limo, his posture relaxed as ever, one long leg casually draped over the other. He turned his head toward me, eyes gleaming with quiet amusement behind his unreadable expression.

I wear a black dress and a gold mask that covers my eyes and half my face and I take a car there alone, which Marcus protests and which I do anyway, and I walk into the basement space at ten-thirty and the music is very loud and very good and the lighting is precisely the kind that makes everyone look like a better version of themselves. I accept champagne. I breathe. For thirty minutes, in the specific anonymity of a gold mask in a room full of people in masks, I am not Vivian Ashford. I am not the Forbes article or the Vanity Fair piece or the trending hashtag or the woman who was photographed crying in a parking structure or the woman who threw her phone in a pool or the woman who was in

Because while they celebrate, I pack. Two changes of clothes, documents and cash I’ve stolen from my father’s accounts over the years. More than enough to erase myself. I was giddy. All I need now are my books and one last visit to the only room that ever felt safe in the entire mansion. The library is dim when I slip inside and I startle when I hear his voice. I pause, hidden between the shelves, and listening despite myself. The masked man is speaking low, and frustrated. “If I cut them off completely, the ports shut down and the suppliers panic.