The night had fallen, but the city lights didn't bother me. They never did. My office was quiet, Jessica busy with reports, unaware that I was about to cross into another layer of danger.
I slipped on my mask—just a simple black one, nothing fancy. The world above didn't know that Mask Girl ran three companies, controlled an empire from underground, and moved like a ghost while the public only saw Seraphine Kane, actress and model. No one would suspect the truth.
The folder with the contract rested in my bag. I checked it one last time. Tomorrow was too late. Tonight, it would be in Dante's hands.
I slid into the driver's seat, mask still on, heart steady, adrenaline simmering. Engine roaring to life, tires kissing the asphalt—I was gone.
Once on the road, I dialed him. The ringtone was quiet, encrypted, just for him.
"Dante," I said, voice clipped but polite. A fake sweetness coated my words.
"Seraphine," his voice was cold, controlled, detached. "Are you coming?"
"Of course," I said, tilting my head back with a smirk, fake cheer in my tone. "Just… send me the location."
A pause. Then, "You know where I am."
"True," I said, letting the words hang. "But I like the ceremony."
The call ended. I peeled off the mask, tossing it onto the passenger seat. Now, it was Seraphine Kane, the actress, moving freely into Dante's world, unaware of the storm about to collide.
The streets blurred past as I drove. The city whispered around me, neon signs bouncing off the car's hood. I thought of the contract, the silent power it held. And Dante.
He thought he knew me. He didn't. Not really.
Minutes later, the gates loomed. Massive, black steel, the kind that said "enter at your own risk". Guards in tailored suits, arms crossed, eyes sharp as hawks. Two massive dogs moved like shadows at the entrance, tails low, muscles rippling. A quick scan and a nod from one of the guards—they knew to let the car pass.
And then… two tigers. Slender, enormous, golden eyes glinting even in low light. They prowled a courtyard lined with stone statues and carefully trimmed hedges. Not pets. Predators. Mafia status. Pure intimidation.
I slowed, letting the car roll to a stop. The valet—more like a lieutenant—stepped forward. "Miss Kane." Voice smooth. Professional. Slightly wary.
I offered a smile, sharp and playful. "Good evening."
The gate closed behind me, heavy and final. Every step, every sound, I was aware. Every movement in Dante's mansion was controlled, deliberate. I wasn't here as a guest. I was here as an equal.
Marble floors polished like glass, two armed guards stationed at either side. Cameras in every corner, lenses glinting under soft light. Every angle watched
The tigers prowled between sculpted gardens, statues of lions and other predators. Low mist rolled across the cobblestone, adding to the aura of menace
Black and white walls, high ceilings, chandeliers dripping crystal light. Dark wood, heavy doors. Guards patrolled silently, sidearms ready. A sense of silent chaos contained by strict order
This was where he resided. Where contracts were signed, power was negotiated, and lives were decided. Two more guards stationed at the threshold, their eyes calculating. No one moved without permission.
I stepped out of the car, heels clicking on marble. I adjusted my hair, smooth and perfectly in place, checked the bag. Contract secure. My smile never wavered.
"Dante," I said, voice bright, cheerful, as if stepping into a room for dinner with a friend. Behind it, a firecracker waiting to explode.
He didn't move, standing by the grand staircase, eyes scanning me, expression unreadable. My smirk widened just slightly. He didn't know. Not a clue that I was Mask Girl, the one he had been hunting indirectly.
"I brought something," I said lightly, pulling the folder from the bag. My hands steady, my tone innocent, almost teasing. "All signed, as requested."
He took it, gloved hands brushing mine for just a fraction of a second. His eyes—golden, predatory, and calculating—looked at me. A faint smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. "Efficient," he said, low and amused.
I laughed softly, deliberately playful. "I always get the job done."
His gaze lingered, measuring, as if trying to read beneath my smile. I let him. Let him wonder. Let him guess. He didn't know the truth.
The guards moved around us, but I ignored them. The tigers padded behind glassed enclosures, eyes glinting. Dogs growled softly at my heels. This was Dante's world. Dangerous, chaotic, untouchable. And I was walking through it like I owned the room.
"Do you always operate like this?" he asked, voice calm but edged with curiosity.
I tilted my head, playful, fire in my eyes. "Operate? Or survive? Those are two different things, darling."
He didn't reply, only smirked, amusement evident, but also a flicker of recognition. Something he couldn't name, couldn't place. My laugh echoed lightly through the hall.
"And don't think you can tempt me with power or influence," I said, sliding the folder into his hands with a flourish. "I already have everything I need."
He raised an eyebrow, clearly amused. He liked this side of me. He didn't know it was only one side—the one he could see.
The mansion, the guards, the predators, the heavy air of wealth and power—it all hummed around us. But between Dante and me, there was a tension. A subtle war of wills.
He wanted me to be his contract wife. A year-long game of proximity, power, control. But he didn't know Mask Girl already had a life under the surface—a life where she ruled, executed, and commanded respect in ways even he couldn't touch.
I smiled at him. Bright, playful, harmless… and deadly all at once.