Monica's POV
"I can't believe you dragged me to this party," I groaned, adjusting my golden lace mask as Natalie pulled me through the grand entrance of the Peterson Foundation's Annual Masquerade Ball.
"Stop complaining," Natalie hissed, her blue mask catching the light. "This is exactly what you need after everything that's happened. One night to forget Tyler and that snake Grace."
The ballroom was stunning—crystal chandeliers casting a warm glow over silk-draped tables and elegant flower arrangements. Beautiful strangers swirled across the marble dance floor in their elaborate masks and designer clothes. I felt like an impostor in my borrowed red satin dress.
"I'm heading to the open bar," I announced, needing liquid courage. "Want anything?"
Natalie's eyes were already fixed on Jasper, who was waiting for her on the dance floor. "I'm good. Go have fun, Monica. That's an order."
Left alone, I made my way to the bar and ordered a gin and tonic. As I took my first sip, the hairs on the back of my neck stood up. Someone was watching me.
"Grey suits you," a deep voice murmured from behind.
I turned to find myself facing a tall figure in an impeccable black suit and matching mask. Despite the concealment, I could feel the intensity of his gaze. His eyes were the most unusual color I'd ever seen—a striking violet-blue that seemed to glow in the dim light.
"Thank you," I replied, my voice unexpectedly breathless.
He moved closer, his broad shoulders blocking out the rest of the room. "Dance with me."
It wasn't a question, but I found myself nodding anyway. He took my glass, set it on the bar, and led me to the dance floor with confident hands. When his arm circled my waist, electricity shot through me.
"I don't normally do this," I admitted as we began to move.
His lips curved into a smile. "Do what? Dance?"
"Talk to strangers. Follow their commands."
He pulled me closer, his warm breath tickling my ear. "Yet here you are."
As we moved together, I found myself melting against his chest. The solid wall of muscle beneath his jacket, the intoxicating scent of his cologne, the way his hand splayed possessively against my lower back—it all conspired to make me forget why I'd been so reluctant to come tonight.
"You're not from around here," he stated, his fingers tracing small circles on my back.
"How can you tell?"
"I know everyone worth knowing in this city," he replied with confidence that should have been arrogant but somehow wasn't. "I would remember you."
The room suddenly felt too warm, too crowded. My head spun slightly—whether from the gin, his proximity, or the lingering pain of Tyler's betrayal, I couldn't tell.
"Are you alright?" he asked, noticing my discomfort.
"Just a little dizzy," I admitted. "It's hot in here."
Without another word, he guided me away from the dance floor, his hand firm against the small of my back. We moved through a service door into a dimly lit hallway, the music fading to a distant thrum. Cool air rushed over my heated skin.
"Better?" he asked, his voice dropping to a husky whisper.
I nodded, suddenly aware of how alone we were. How close he stood. How desperately I wanted to feel something—anything—other than the humiliation and heartbreak that had consumed me for weeks.
"Your eyes," I whispered, reaching up to touch the edge of his mask. "I've never seen that color before."
"Family trait," he replied, capturing my wrist in his warm grip. "Are you going to tell me your name?"
I shook my head slowly. "Isn't that against the rules of a masquerade? We're supposed to be anonymous."
His smile turned predatory. "I like breaking rules."
"So do I," I heard myself say, surprised by my boldness. "Tonight, anyway."
Something dangerous flashed in his eyes. "What happened to the woman who doesn't talk to strangers?"
"She got tired of playing it safe and getting hurt anyway."
The confession hung between us for a heartbeat before he closed the distance, pressing me against the wall. His lips found mine in a kiss that started gentle but quickly blazed into something wild and consuming. I'd never been kissed like this before—like I was air and he was drowning.
My fingers threaded through his hair as his hands explored my body through the thin satin of my dress. Every touch ignited a new flame under my skin. When his mouth moved to my neck, I gasped.
"Tell me to stop," he growled against my throat.
"Don't stop," I whispered back.
What happened next was a blur of sensation—his hands sliding my dress up my thighs, my fingers fumbling with his belt, our bodies joining in a frenzied, desperate rhythm against the wall. I'd never done anything so reckless in my life, yet nothing had ever felt more right.
He whispered delicious, filthy things in my ear as we moved together, driving me higher and higher until I shattered in his arms with a cry he captured with his mouth. He followed moments later, his body tensing as he held me against the wall.
For several minutes afterward, we simply clung to each other, our ragged breathing the only sound in the hallway. His forehead rested against mine, our masks slightly askew.
"That was..." he began, his voice rougher than before.
"Unexpected," I finished for him, a small laugh escaping my lips.
He pulled back slightly, his violet-blue eyes studying my face with newfound intensity. "I want to see you again. Tell me who you—"
Before he could finish, a phone rang loudly in his pocket. He cursed, pulling it out to check the screen. His expression darkened instantly.
"I have to take this," he said, already moving away. "Wait here."
He answered the call, walking a few steps down the hallway. "What happened?" I heard him snap. Then, "I'll be right there. Twenty minutes."
When he turned back to me, his face had transformed completely. Gone was the passionate stranger who'd held me moments before, replaced by someone coldly professional and distracted.
"I have to go," he said, straightening his tie. "Emergency at work."
"Oh," I managed, suddenly feeling very small and foolish as I adjusted my dress. "Of course."
He hesitated, looking torn. "I wanted to ask your—"
"It's fine," I cut him off, embarrassment flooding through me. What had I done? I'd just had unprotected sex with a complete stranger against a wall. This wasn't me. "You should go."
He nodded once, his jaw tight. "Goodbye then."
And just like that, he was gone, leaving me alone in the hallway with my smudged lipstick and tangled hair.
I didn't know it then, but that night would change my life forever. In nine months, I would hold the beautiful consequence of our reckless passion in my arms—a perfect baby boy with his father's unmistakable violet-blue eyes.
The father whose name I never learned.
The father I was certain I would never see again.
How wrong I would turn out to be.