Masked Tuxedo Novels & Stories

Time to vanish into someone else. Naomi’s silence screamed trouble—either she was compromised or in danger. I grabbed a plain black tuxedo from my closet, nothing flashy. I slicked my hair back, glued on an itchy fake beard, and swapped my grey eyes for brown contacts. Wire-rimmed glasses made me look like a forgettable investor. In the mirror, I was a stranger. Perfect.

Just as I was being universally condemned. A tall, mountain-like figure blocked in front of me. He cut off all the flashing lights, cut off the brothers' crazy gazes, and cut off those vicious rumors. It was Tatin. He wasn't wearing a uniform today, but a black cashmere coat with a simple tactical shirt underneath, the collar slightly open, revealing a section of sexy collarbone and faintly visible scars. He had one hand in his pocket, and the other naturally wrapped around my shoulder, protecting me in his secure embrace.

The light in the room, angled just so, reflected slightly off the tiny, metallic glint of the locket I wore hidden beneath my shirt. It was faint, just a small, cool sliver of titanium resting against my sternum, hidden beneath three layers of expensive fabric—the undershirt, the dress shirt, and the waistcoat. The Tux Fitting became instantly agonizing, the hypocrisy screaming inside me. This suit is a lie. The man in the mirror is the golden boy, the faithful heir, ready to accept his duty and his bride. But beneath the perfect facade, beneath the costly lie, is the small, quiet truth. The locket. Igor’s promise. The key to the door. How can I stand here, letting this man measure me for a

I turned instantly and faced him. He was tall almost as tall as Alexander but built differently. Leaner, more predatory grace than brute power. His tuxedo was midnight black, tailored to perfection, the open collar revealing the edge of dark ink crawling up his throat and disappearing beneath the crisp white shirt. Heavy tattoos peeked from his cuffs too, intricate and dangerous. Thick black hair, sharp cheekbones, and eyes the color of burnt caramel that looked like they’d seen every sin New York had to offer and enjoyed most of them. Marcus Rivera.

He crosses his arms over his broad chest and stares me down with his piercing green eyes. “I swear to all of you, I didn’t know,” I reiterate forcefully. Tessa takes a human fashion magazine out of a folder and opens it to the center spread. There is a black-and-white full-page image of Bronx Mason wearing a designer suit, staring directly at the camera. His hands clasped in front of his massive body with the posture of a confident warrior. There is a dangerous smirk on his face that only Bronx could manifest, inviting and deadly at the same time.

Logan’s close friends like Finn and Li young had arrived and he was there to welcome them and everyone else. “Wow, who would’ve thought Logan Donatello will put on a wedding tuxedo and be so much in love” Li Young joked Logan smirked “You look good man” Finn said “He sure does” Li young said Logan was putting on a a classic ivory tuxedo jacket with black satin lapels, paired with black tailored trousers with a slick back heir. It added a lot to his handsomeness.

After a while, I decided to give up my search and make my way down. As I started my descent, a striking, well-dressed man caught my eye. He wore a black tuxedo with a black dress shirt that had hints of lace near the collar. The suit fit him perfectly, accentuating his well-defined, toned muscles without being too revealing. His hair was messy and brown, and it fell over his gold mask, with small black feathers hiding half of his face. His unshaven stubbles and square jawline added to his ruggedly handsome appearance. But it was his piercing blue eyes that gave me a clue to his identity—it was Dominic.

I didn’t know the last advertisement I did in New York was for a Korean company! My hair had been dyed dark brown up until a month ago and curled up into a low bun. A white and gold Venetian masquerade mask is perched on my nose and held by my right hand to cover the top half of my face. My skin tone has a bronze tint to it thanks to the foundation. My closed lids are showing off the glittering gold coloured eye shadow that blends perfectly with my skin, and dark waterproof liner emphasized the contours of my eyes. My eyelashes have never looked so long and dark before, and the light blush on my cheeks gave it a rosy glow as my full lips lift in a half-smile, showing off the bright red lipst

A gloved hand slid around her waist from behind, fingers splaying possessively over the silk just below her navel. Isabella exhaled softly, a sound that might have been surprise or surrender. She leaned back, letting her body settle against the hard planes of his chest. He was solid, the cut of his tuxedo sharp against her softer curves. His mask was matte black, simple, severe, carved from onyx and edged in thin silver.