Beneath The Mask Book Novels & Stories

She danced and mingled with ease, while I found solace at the bar, sipping on a drink and watching the partygoers from afar. As the night progressed, I found myself feeling more at ease with the party's anonymity. The masks allowed me to forget about my past and embrace the mystery and intrigue of the night. But that all changed when I saw him - a tall, dark stranger, dressed in a black suit and mask. He stared at me, making me feel uncomfortable. I quickly averted my gaze, pretending to be interested in my drink, but he approached me nonetheless. "Hey there, beautiful. May I have this dance?" he asked, his voice smooth and low.

"Do you take this woman to be your wife, to stand by her through thick and thin?" "I do," the man said, his voice muffled by the mask. The guests whispered in awe. Howard Larson, the Larson family's big shot, was so in love with me that he would not let a bad cold stop our big day. He did not want to disappoint me. "Wait a second." The man's eyes darted around, and his forehead was dotted with sweat. I smiled and asked, "Howard, you're looking a bit pale. Too busy with the wedding to remember your medicine?"

I moved closer, each step careful, deliberate. The doorbell didn’t ring. No knock. Just silence. But when I opened the door, the night air swept in cold and heavy. And there, on the mat, lay a small black box. My hands trembled as I picked it up and lifted the lid. Inside — my necklace. Clean. Untouched. And beneath it, a note written in the kind of handwriting that smiled while it warned: Masks aren’t meant to hide, Mariam. They’re meant to reveal.

Chapter Three – Masquerade Mastery The ballroom transformed into a realm of shadows and silk as the early morning hours approached, the chandeliers dimming, their light a soft halo over the crimson velvet alcove where we lay entwined. My body was a map of their desire—bruises on my hips and thighs, bite marks on my breasts, cum and sweat coating my skin—yet the hunger within me burned, a primal need fueled by the Masquerade’s unrelenting passion. The five women loomed over me, their masks still in place, breaths heavy, pussies glistening with arousal, eyes locked on mine with a fierce mastery, ready to culminate the night in a final act of dominance. The air thrummed with the energy of our s

I would have to go unnoticed. With a heavy sigh, I pushed the covers off and sat up, reaching for the bag. I pulled out the invitation card and looked at it. As I traced the letters with my finger, something else tumbled out of the bag—a mask. I blinked, stunned at what just happened. It was a lovely mask that only covered the eyes, black with silver embroidery. Its edges were lined with tiny, sparkling beads. And then, another surprise: a dress, folded neatly at the bottom of the bag. How had I not seen it before?

I muttered, leaning closer so he could hear me over the buzz of the crowd, “Reagan doesn’t even know the names of half these people.” He smirked, his gaze sweeping the room. “Everyone’s wearing a mask.” “It’s a masquerade party, I think.” I spotted a nearby table stacked with ornate masks, clearly intended for anyone who needed one. I grabbed two and turned to Blaze, holding one out to him. “Here. Let’s blend in.” I slipped my mask on—a delicate, silver piece adorned with tiny crystals—and gestured for Blaze to do the same. He took his time, studying his black and gold mask like it was some kind of alien artifact before finally putting it on.

To me, it was just a confirmation of a truth I had been sensing since we left New York. Nico returned. He wasn't alone. He was carrying a heavy, leather-bound folio—the one I had personally handed to Seraphina the night before. He held it out to me. "Found it tucked into the lining of Miss Vivienne’s case, Boss. Wrapped in a silk scarf." The world seemed to stop. I took the book from Nico. I didn't even open it. I looked at Vivienne. The "Princess" mask was gone. In its place was something ugly, twisted, and small. Her eyes were darting around, looking for a way out, a new lie to tell, a new person to blame.

No distractions. A room waited at the end. No music. No decoration. Just a table, two chairs, and low light. “This isn’t a booking,” I said. The attendant didn’t respond. She gestured for me to sit, then left. I waited. The door opened a minute later. He didn’t wear a mask. That was the first rule broken. He closed the door behind him calmly and took the chair opposite me. Tall. Composed. Movements controlled, deliberate. He didn’t rush. He didn’t smile.

© Angel Adigwe, 2022 Published by Angel Adigwe. INTRODUCTION Damien white is the CEO of white enterprises. An event which occured in the past led to him always wearing a mask over his face. But no one really knew what happened. Even when he gets asked by people about the reason for the mask he still refuses to disclose anything about it and instead choose to live like that. But there's was a particular someone though who always puts a smile on Damien's face and gives him joy each time he thinks of her.