Sentimientos Enmascarados Novela Novels & Stories

Darien saw him as being an open hearted person with a strong tendency to be optimistic. He steeled himself when it came to reading the masked ball chapter again. Again there were so many small details. Nothing got past Darien when it came to writing. Everything had been included. That night appeared to be very clear in Darien’s mind. It was also weird to read it from Darien’s perspective or rather the masked man’s perspective. He had always wondered what his dancing partner had been thinking the entire time. Now he knew.

I’m not sure what’s worse, was it the embarrassment of being caught red handed and greatly misunderstood of having an intimate contact with the stranger I was battling with earlier by the barista; or is it the fact that somehow, I’m starting to like the sensation of being in this masked stranger’s arms? One thing’s for sure, I’m grateful I didn’t fall back down the stairs, but I have to get out of here or I’ll die from self pity. “Do you want to do this in an inn, darling?” The masked stranger pulled me to his chest even closer, his breath fanning my face as he whispered close.

Jenifer chuckles. "Rose" Emily jumped at the name, she wondered why she felt more hatred for Rose than the actual person who cheated on her. "Yes, she is over there with Mr. Marcel right now," Jennifer said making Emily turn, She turned to find a woman wearing the exact colour of her dress. But her dress was shorter, and in her hand was a black mask too but with a stick. "Doesn't anyone know how to use a mask in this place" Emily spat annoyed by the sight of Rose.

Finally he said, “You can go, Cara. I’ll take care of this.” Cara shut the door behind Thea, and Thea couldn’t help but feel like she’d entered into a prison. Where had the playful, affectionate Anthony gone? Right now, she barely recognized the man standing in front of her. The mask he wore was in plain sight, and if he’d ever loved her—or even liked her—apparently it had already disappeared in an instant. “Let me explain,” Thea said again, more firmly this time. “You don’t know everything.”

“After everything? I thought I’d proven myself by now.” “It’s not that simple.” His voice was calm, almost maddeningly so. “I trust you, but I also know people can wear masks, even if they don’t mean to.” “Is that what you think I’m doing? Wearing a mask?” Her voice was low, almost challenging. Enzo shrugged. “You come from a world of lies and manipulation. Your father, your stepmother… it’s the air you’ve breathed since birth. It’d be hard for anyone to leave that behind entirely.”

“It wasn’t me; it was it…it used me.” The mask laughed, its voice layered with her father's sneer. “You can’t even tell the difference. My face and his face are one.” Camela dug her nails into her palms and whispered fiercely, “No. I can tell the difference because even if that kiss felt like death…I know what his love feels like…and it’s not yours.” The mask lunged forward, hitting her forehead with force and scraping her skin with its thorns. She gasped and pushed back with both hands, but it pressed harder, trying to attach itself to her.

Also, the way he smelled. I stiffened. That scent. I knew that scent. It was him. Or at least, it smelled like him. The man from that night. The one who had haunted my thoughts ever since. Why does this giant smell so much like the stranger from that night but looks nothing like him? “If you give her to me,” the masked man continued, “I will marry her tonight and take her to my kingdom.” His kingdom? I couldn’t hold in my gasp. What the hell was happening? One second, I was being humiliated beyond belief, and now some masked giant wanted to claim me?

Florence in November felt like a secret whispered into the folds of a scarf. The leaves had turned from ochre to rust. Emilia wandered the narrow streets bundled in her trench coat, eyes shaded behind her tortoiseshell sunglasses, a notebook pressed close to her chest. The air was brisk, but the ache in her chest was warmer, stranger. It was no longer the sting of heartbreak—it was something quieter. Something she couldn’t explain. It was the sensation of being watched by a ghost that didn’t want to scare her.

It was a masquerade party, just like the one where I first claimed Emilia as mine. A sea of guests adorned in elegant masks and attire filled the dance floor, laughter and music mingling in the air. Emilia looks stunning in her gown, and when she pulls out that familiar gold mask it adds an air of mystery to her already captivating presence. “Surprise,” she says, her eyes shimmering with joy as she squeezed my hand. I couldn’t help but smile, feeling the weight of the memories wash over me. “You've outdone yourself, Angel. Just when I thought you couldn’t surprise me anymore,” I reply, trying to contain the surge of emotions in my chest.

The moment the curtain closed behind them, the cold returned not from the winter, but from the truth pressing in. The hallway was lined with oil portraits of men in masks. Verena walked ahead in red heels that clicked like gunshots. “You always imagined I was just the handler,” she said over her shoulder. “But that’s the thing about masks, darling. Sometimes you don’t realize who’s wearing one until it’s too late.” They entered a small study black wood, deep leather chairs, a fire burning low in the grate. On the far table sat a spread of documents and a file box labeled: