Fuck this annual charity event. I don’t care that it’s the only day of the year when my enemy and I put aside our animosity. Usually, it’s a silent competition of whose ass gets kissed more by the New York elite. Demyan can let the leeches suck him dry for all I care since he’s the official host this year.
I am bored out of my damn mind. The only challenge is not killing everyone who keeps pestering me. Pretending I am more civilized than I am. Pretending I am more businessman than killer. Attending these damn galas takes inhuman willpower to keep the mask intact. Meanwhile, that fucker couldn’t give a shit about keeping up appearances. He displays who he is to everyone: a Bratva prince.
We have created a fragile alliance under the vision of Enzo and Mikail, but that doesn’t mean we don’t take every opportunity to fuck with each other. It is our sport, our entertainment. But even that barely excites me anymore.
All I want is to go home and bury myself in work, expanding my empire. There is not enough power or money I can get, striving to own everything and then some. I don’t want tosocialize with these people that I bought a long time ago. They’re all under my thumb and in my pocket, anyway.
The money we will raise tonight is the only thing that makes this whole charade worth it. It is Demyan’s year to decide where the funds we raise will go—funding two preschools within the poorer communities of New York. Since when the fucker cares about children is beyond me.
People part for me as I make my way to the terrace. Once outside, I breathe deeply, filling my starved lungs with fresh air, releasing the fake entitlement that permeates Demyan’s penthouse.
The mask scratches my skin, so I yank it off and throw it down.
I lean against the glass railing, sipping my scotch, the rich taste sliding down my throat, when I hear someone approaching, disturbing my solitude. I grip my drink hard enough that it might crack under the pressure. Five fucking minutes of peace.
I am not asking for much, am I?
“Wow, beautiful,” she says in the softest voice I’ve ever heard.
Even women’s voices have started to grate on me, a fake inflection attached to their intonations. Not in hers. She seems genuinely impressed. That piques my curiosity, and I cock my head to observe the intruder.
Damn, she’s beautiful, and the filigree mask can’t hide her delicate cheekbones, a luscious mouth, and mesmerizing green eyes. Her long hair cascades down her back in a ponytail, making me want to thread my fingers through it and see if it’s as silky as it appears.
It’s been so long since I’ve been with a woman, I wonder if I’ve fucked her. Doubtful since I am certain I would remember her. That sweet voice and her beauty make her unforgettable.
Incapable of taking my eyes off her, hers widen in response. The “deer caught in the headlights” look puts a smirk on my face. We definitely don’t run in the same circles.
“Sorry, I…I thought no one would be out here.”
Eyes locked, neither of us able to escape the trance.
“It’s a better view from over here.” My voice sounds hoarse.
What the fuck?
Her full lips arch into a soft smile, going straight to my chest and causing my heart to beat out of cadence. The organ behaves so out of the ordinary that I question if it’s a health issue.
She takes cautious steps toward me—nervous yet determined. Interesting.
When she reaches the glass railing, her intoxicating scent invades my nostrils—something sweet and floral that causes an instant hunger. Truly disconcerting.
Who is this woman captivating my attention and teasing my senses?That’s not good for either of us. I want to indulge, but something tells me a taste won’t satisfy me.
“You’re not wearing your mask,” she murmurs.
She’s refreshing. While some women go for the whole innocent look, thinking men desire that, it has never worked with me. But not her. Her innocence is genuine.
“There’s no one else here to see that I’m not following the rules. You won’t tell, will you?” I ask low as if sharing a secret.
She chews on her lower lip. It’s so plump, enticing me to take a bite, to smudge that red color so she doesn’t appear so pure anymore.
What the fuck is wrong with me, entertaining this delusion when I should just leave. I shake my head as if to clear it, not understanding my visceral reaction to her.
“No, I’m good at keeping secrets.”
I arch a brow, jerking my chin at her. “Only people with their own can keep others.”
She tilts her head, baring a delicate, elegant neck. The vein pulses and flickers, betraying she’s just as affected by me.
