The event night was just as dull as always.
The rich and beautiful gathered, shaking hands, pretending to care, whispering deals behind champagne glasses.
I couldn't care less. None of it mattered
Surrounded by flatterers, yes-men, social climbers in suits. They laughed. Chatted. I nodded when necessary. Didn't hear a word.
I was waiting.
And then—there she was.
My gaze slid past the man in front of me and landed on her.
Slim figure. The wig didn't fool me. Neither did the colored contacts, masking the blue I knew too well.
The dress was elegant. Tasteful. A good choice for the evening.
She moved with intent, blended in like a shadow. Like a chameleon.
None of them noticed her. None of them saw her.
But I did.
Her ability to disappear, to become someone else—it fascinated me. Not just because it worked.
Because it was hers.
She wasn't like the rest. Not like the hollow husks circling the room.
She was a puzzle.
And I crave puzzles.
But more than that—
She was my puzzle.
I let my eyes glide over the crowd, ensuring no one noticed my interest. Lifted my glass to my lips, didn't drink. Nodded to some throwaway comment about the upcoming tour.
And looked back at her.
And for a moment—I couldn't stop the images flooding my head.
Her. In my villa. The disguise stripped away. The mask gone. The truth of her laid bare for no one else but me.
Her eyes filled with confusion—fear—when she finally understood she had never been in control. Not once.
That realization.
And then... I'd show her my world.
What she tried to become. I'd make her real.
It wasn't just desire.
It was longing. A darker thing.
A need for control.
For dominance.
And she was the center of it.
I swallowed. The thought turned me on.
Wrong place. Wrong time. I reminded myself.
Inappropriate. But undeniable.
But then—she looked at me.
And I didn't look away.
Our eyes met.
Locked.
Held.
Too long.
Too intense.
There it was.
The slight tremble in her posture.
Her breath hitched. Froze mid-air.
She felt it.
She felt me.
The danger, the heat beneath the surface. Even if she didn't understand it.
I let my gaze wander, slow, controlled. As if nothing had happened.
But I knew she'd second-guess herself.
She'd wonder—had it been real?
I wanted to show her just how real it was.
But not yet.
Throughout the evening, I felt her eyes on me. Over and over again.
But I never looked back.
My hands stayed still. My body relaxed.
But the tension in her—
It was delicious.
Like a fire that refused to die down.
I was already planning my next steps.
Thread by thread, she would dance for me.
I'd let her believe she held the reins.
When in truth—
She never did.
The same demons that whispered in me were already breathing down her neck.
And soon—
I would find out if she could survive the descent into my personal hell.
And if she couldn't?
Then I'd help her break.
Pick up the pieces.
Rebuild her into something beautiful.
Something I owned.
I raised my glass.
A silent toast.
The puppet strings pulled tight.
Dance, my love.
Dance.
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You felt that, didn't you?
Don't worry. It only gets worse from here.
sammylsj - This is for you <3 Thanks for reading my love.