Welcome To Masquerade Novels & Stories

Today was my first time at work since I had been revealed to the world as Nicholas' mistress. Just as I had predicted, I was the center of attraction. The reception was fuller than usual and I suspected most of the people there had no business being there. They must have left their offices just to have the opportunity to have a glance at the new office whore in the hope to get some story they could gossip to their friends about or gain popularity with a tweet. Even though I had anticipated this, and so had Marcus since he had sent me a text message today reading, 'Stay strong. It'll all pass eventually. You can do it,'—I still was not ready for it.

he heard her clearly but his brain could only accept a piece of possible information deemed by him. “He was your father?” he gulped before the words choked him harder than they already did. “Doesn’t matter now, he killed my Mama, so he must pay,” she said coldly, rising from the floor. Andre followed soon. “Good, then let us make him pay,” he said, firmly as his thoughts to expose the masquerade hiding in the mask of the honourable detective. ****

The note read, "An invitation to the Masquerade of Secrets. An evening of intrigue and revelations. Your presence is requested." Xander and I exchanged puzzled glances. We had never heard of such an event, but the allure of the unknown sparked our curiosity. We decided to attend, thinking it would be an exciting and glamorous evening. The night of the masquerade arrived, and we entered a world of opulence and mystery. The grand ballroom was adorned with elegant decorations, and the air buzzed with anticipation. The guests, all masked, mingled and danced, their identities concealed behind elaborate disguises.

“Mask?” The Masque was a private club owned by Lady Clement, who apparently had a thing for masquerade balls. In addition to hosting her annual masquerade, Lady Clement required that members of The Masque where masks—as well as surrender their phones at the entrance—to protect everyone’s privacy. I was certain that there was some sexual component to the mask requirement as well, but I tried not to think about that.

The grandfather clock striking one in the morning pulled me from my reverie. “Ladies and gentlemen, please, may I have your attention?” someone says. The speaker, Alpha Nehemiah, took center stage, accompanied by Luna, Beta Swanson, and his mate. Alpha Nehemiah said, "On behalf of the Voyage Pack, we appreciate everyone attending this special event, particularly your majesty."It's tradition at this masquerade party to unmask at one o'clock. To help us all get acquainted, I will countdown to zero, at which point we will all remove our masks."

And I still didn’t know if I wanted to run from it—or run straight into it. Rachel nudged me with her elbow as I wiped down the camera lenses. “Hey. Let’s go to Masquerade tonight.” I blinked. “What?” “You heard me. Club night. Girls, guys, masks, secrets. Let’s gooo.” Adam looked up from the candy jar. “What’s Masquerade?” Rachel grinned wickedly. “Only the hottest underground club in the city. Masked entry only. Total anonymity. You can dance with a stranger and never know their name.”

“I’ll try. But I can’t guarantee anything. Egor’s pack watches me around the clock.” “Yes, we know. We already tried to get in. If you manage it, text me — the invitation will be handed to you at the entrance. It’s a masquerade, by the way, so prepare accordingly. And after today, don’t call or message this number again. We’ll contact you ourselves.” The line went dead, and a few minutes later a message with the address appeared on my phone. After making sure I had memorized it, I deleted both the message and the call log.

“How do I get there?” Kaden brought his phone out, showing him an invitation that had been sent out by Marco earlier that day. “It's a masked party and I'm pretty sure you are a known person, so you will be rejected entry. Besides, you can register as an anonymous participant and find your way in.” “How much for registration?”

We talked and laughed, sharing stories and getting to know each other better. Just as we were in the middle of our conversation, the door creaked open, and a tall, dark-skinned man walked in. My head instinctively turned to greet him. Just as I raised my face to greet him, I felt a jolt of recognition run through me. It was the same guy from the masked party! I couldn't believe it; I had unmasked him in the washroom while we were kissing. I didn't know I'd remember his face ever again.

I snap back, just as the door swings fully open. The man in front steps inside, holding a cattle prod, its metal tip gleaming ominously. He moves just enough to allow another man to enter, who silently sets a jug of water down on the rickety table before turning to leave. “Wait!” I shout, my voice sharp and urgent. The men pause, glancing back. “We will negotiate. What do you want?” I ask, trying to keep my tone calm despite the tension in the air. The man at the front turns his masked face toward me. His expression is hidden, but his posture radiates control. “We want nothing,” he says, his voice distorted, processed through some kind of modulator. It’s deliberate—a calculated move to ensur