“We only have five minutes left before everyone is expecting us to be there.”

“They can wait,” I breathe, grabbing her hip and pulling her onto my lap.

Her black, sequined gown parts, allowing her bare thighs to wrap around mine. My dick wakes right the fuck up, hardening the second she rocks and rolls her hips, rubbing her sweet pussy along my length.

“Howard can hear everything, Holt.” She wraps her hands around my neck as I gaze up at her.

“Howard can’t hear anything.”

“Yes, he can.” She giggles, glancing over her shoulder.

Howard’s eyes lift to the rearview mirror before he’s flipping on the blinker, waiting for the light to turn green.

Selene looks back at me. “He’s inches away from us.”

I lift my mouth into a devilish smirk. “Howard can’t hear anything, Wallflower.” I raise my voice. “Can you, Howard?”

Howard doesn’t look in the rearview this time.

“See?” I tease.

“Oh, my God, Holt. You’re the worst.” She taps my shoulder, but she hasn’t stopped shifting over me. My naughty girl cares just as much about Howard being inches away as I do.

I shove her curled hair aside as I stare up into her black, sparkly-dusted eyes. They’re surrounded by an intricately detailed matching black mask. Everything about her is dark and mysterious, like night and day when compared to her usual light-colored clothes.

“You’re really beautiful tonight, Wallflower.” I drag my thumb across her bottom lip.

“Thank you.” She traces her finger along the bottom of my midnight blue mask. “I love this color on you. Brings out your eyes.” Her mouth pulls into a delicate smile.

I wrap my arm around her waist and pull her closer. With my other hand, I grip the back of her head and pull her down to kiss me before I pull back slightly.

“Are you feeling better than you were earlier?”

“Yeah.” She swallows. “I think that nausea medicine after dinner helped.”

“Good.” I growl, slipping my hand between us. “That means I can do this.”

I’m quick to find her clit. She tilts her head back, her jaw dropping on a gasp.

“I love you, Holt,” she breathes, rubbing herself over my fingers.

“I love you, Wallflower.” I work her clit until she comes undone.

She bites her lip, stifling her tiny moans and breaths. I’m fully aware she’s conscious of Howard sitting in the driver seat and that we’re only minutes from the event venue, but I have no patience. I can’t keep my hands off my girl.

She lowers her head and buries her face in my neck. She smells like flowers and sunshine, even though she looks like a storm cloud ready to make her presence known.

“You’re absolutely diabolical for this,” she pants. “I hope you know.”

“Come for me,” I breathe into her ear. Heat pools in my lower stomach, and although there are several layers between us, my dick revels in the way she’s sliding against me.

She turns her mouth to my ear. “If I’m going to come, so are you.”

Tiny bursts of electricity shoot across my skin the moment she lowers herself onto my length. She grinds her sweet pussy harder, dragging herself across my rock-hard cock.

“Wallflower.” I growl, digging my fingers into her hips. I want her to stop, because the last thing I need is to come in my fucking pants, but I also don’t want her to stop. I can’t stop. She feels too fucking good.

Dammit, I feel like a fucking teenager.

“If I’m going down”—she presses her lips to shell of my ear—“you’re going down with me.” She moans, and my cock is throbbing, on the verge of release.

Frantic, I move my hand from her hip to her face, pulling her toward me. I kiss her hard, catching her breath with mine. The windows in my blacked-out Bentley quickly fog over with a thin coat of steam. Our skin is sweating, and I hate the thought of ruining both of our outfits, but I have no self-control. Not when it comes to Selene.

I press my fingers harder against her clit, and every time I do, she matches me thrust for thrust. Blood shoots straight for my dick, and she grinds herself over me twice more before I’m coming. Fisting Selene’s hair, I grip the back of her neck and still her movements as I come.

“Fuck.” I groan, stifling what noise I can against Selene’s neck.

I haven’t moved my hand as she grinds the last few times before she’s coming herself. She shudders against me, vibrating as she comes.

Lifting my head, I try to catch my breath while staring into her mossy-green eyes surrounded by diluted light. My sinfully dark wallflower. I love seeing this side of her.

But then it hits me. I just fucking came in my pants, and we’re almost at the masquerade ball.

Selene must realize it, too. Her cheeks turn an even darker shade of red, and her eyes widen. “Oh, my God.” She slaps a hand over her mouth, then slowly lowers it. “I’m so sorry, Holt. I didn’t mean⁠—”

I chuckle under my breath and run my hand over her hair, tucking it behind her ear. “Yes, you did, but it’s okay.”

“No, it’s not. I shouldn’t have done that.”

“I like it when you show this side of yourself to me.” I kiss her nose. “I love it because it’s a side no one else gets to see but me.”

Her expression transforms into one of happiness, and I melt with her smile.

“Howard!” I shout, not taking my eyes off Selene. “Take us back home. I need to change.”

“Yes, sir,” Howard answers, immediately making a U-turn.

“Oh, no.” Selene groans, burying her head. “Now we’re going to be late.”

“I don’t care.” I hook my fingers under her chin, pulling her to look up. “If this is the reason we’re late, it was worth it. You’re always worth it.”

After quickly changing into a clean suit, Selene and I eventually show up to the masquerade ball over an hour past our original arrival time.

We make the rounds, greeting every single celebrity and guest in attendance in support of Scribe Magazine and my team in the anonymous article department. Photographers and reporters clamor for interviews with Selene and me. We answer a few questions, avoiding the most prying, but thankfully, Treena and Vanessa are in attendance, immediately pulling us away when there is any hint of a mention of Rome Montgomery.

Every year, my event team throws our annual masquerade ball at an old estate outside the city on lavish grounds in what looks like an old castle built out of pale gray stone, as though it’s plucked straight out of the English countryside.

It’s my favorite event of the year, mostly because it’s a nice break from the hustle and bustle of city life, fitting in with the romantic tones that come standard with a masked ball.

After making our initial greetings, I wander around to chat with some of my colleagues while Selene leaves to find our friendship group. We stopped to talk to them at the start of the ball but have barely spent any time with them since. Charleigh and Asher were inseparable, as usual, unable to keep their hands off one another. West and London were practically the same, too busy losing themselves in one another to notice the rest of us, or at least participate in much of the conversation. Which led us to making the rounds around the ornately decorated ballroom covered in silver and black roses. They slither along the walls like ivy while the floor is decked out in mirrored glass.

The event coordinating team at the magazine has outdone themselves this year.

Julianna, thankfully, didn’t coordinate this event, so she hasn’t been overrun with a million tasks. She’s been able to spend her time here relaxed, not worrying about keeping the guests entertained or failing to meet their expectations.

Once I’m finished talking with a group of investment bankers, I immediately begin searching for Selene among the shadowed crowd. We haven’t even had a chance to dance yet tonight, and my hands are itching to touch her.

I find West standing at the back of the estate, overlooking the expansive garden grounds. He’s leaning against the large, stone pillar, scrolling through his phone. The blueish-white light from his phone screen illuminates his masked face.

He looks up when he sees me approaching.

“Hey, man.” He grins, dropping his phone into his pocket. “London and I were wondering where you and Selene have been. Charleigh and Asher left a few minutes ago—something about Charleigh’s mom needing help with putting her new bed frame together.” He sighs. “Anyway, we were about to head out ourselves.”

“Oh.” I glance around the garden. “Is Selene not with London?”

“No.” He shakes his head. “She went inside to grab her coat from the valet. I stayed back to see if I ran into you so we could say goodbye.” He grins. “Looks like I ran into you.”

“Yeah.” I give him a weak smile, hoping I find Selene. I slap him on his arm. “Thanks for coming, man.”

“Of course.” His mouth lifts into an uneasy smile. “You okay?”

I nod, waving him off. “I’m fine. Just want to find Selene.”

“I know that feeling.” He chuckles. “We never stop searching for them, do we? We don’t feel complete.”

I laugh before shrugging my shoulder. “Guilty.”

“See you later, Holt.” He slaps me on the arm and heads back inside the estate.

I pull out my phone and try texting Selene again, but my last sent message still sits unread. I turn my attention back to the backyard.

Not seeing Selene from my vantage point, I walk farther down the grounds. The full moon shines brightly in the clear night sky, illuminating the entire party. I take the cobblestone staircase down to the expansive garden leading to the small labyrinth that’s existed here for centuries. According to historical records, anyway.

The farther I go, the fewer guests I encounter. The heads of the ones I do see move on a swivel as they follow me, gossiping as if seeing me here is a shock to them. But I don’t give a shit. I only want to find Selene. I know for certain she isn’t inside, so this is the last logical place she could be.

I follow the rose-covered terrace wall but stop in my tracks when I see the two men standing at the opposite end.

With black hair, a black mask, an unmistakable bird tattoo on his neck peeking out from the top of his black suit, Rome Montgomery stands at the opening to the labyrinth maze.

I take a step forward, white-hot anger boiling in my veins. My hands immediately curl into tight fists, and all I can think about is what it would feel like to drive it straight into his face.

I would say I’m surprised to see him here, but I’m not. Rome Montgomery doesn’t shy away from taking the chance to make himself the center of attention, even if he does have a lawsuit against me. The fucker.

But it’s the man he’s talking to that distracts me from my anger at Rome. I don’t recognize him, mostly because half of his face is hidden by the intricately gold and green mask he’s wearing. A small, X-shaped scar stretches across his chin, then I see the tattoo on the back of his hand. Even among the shadows of the night, I recognize it.

A clover with two piercing daggers.

He and Rome are caught up in conversation, but I don’t give a shit. My vision turns red, and I’m quick to march forward.

Both men snap their heads in my direction on hearing my footsteps.

“Hey, motherfucker!” I shout.

“Capuleti.” Rome’s voice drips with venom on a sneer, thinking I’m talking to him.

The man snaps his head toward Rome, his eyes wide. Then he looks at me. I’m still at least twenty feet away, somehow resisting the urge to sprint toward him. Instead, I walk slowly, not to raise alarm. I tread carefully and stick my arm out, pointing to the man.

“Who are you?” I dart my eyes to Rome. “Who the fuck is that, Rome? Tell me.”

Neither of them answer me. I imagine driving my fist into this fucker’s face, standing over him, demanding answers as to who he is. I don’t think I’ve ever been this close to discovering my mother’s true killer before. For all I know, this could be the man who pulled the trigger. Adrenaline pumps through my veins. I feel like I’m going to explode. Spontaneously combust into a million little pieces on this perfectly manicured lawn.

The sound of my mother’s last gasping breath echoes in my ears, drowning out the orchestra playing closer to the estate building. Pressure builds behind my eyes, my anger fueling me to keep going.

I’ve nearly reached the stranger when I hear someone vomiting into the bushes between the two men and me. I abruptly turn to find Julianna running up to Selene, who is bent over in front of the bushes.

My anger dissolves immediately.

“Selene,” my sister says, jogging to catch up to her. She places her hand gently on her back. “Are you okay?”

“Jules!” I announce, catching her attention.

Julianna looks up, her eyes meeting mine before they drift to my left, where they narrow in obvious anger, even from behind her mask.

Selene is still bent over, hurling into the bushes.

“Wallflower?” I call out, my feet already carrying me in her direction, until I fall into a jog.

My only focus shifts to Selene and taking care of her.

Once I’ve reached her, I start gathering her hair, pulling it away from her face.

“I’ve got her, Jules,” I tell my sister.

She takes a step back, nods once, then looks over her shoulder to where Rome is still standing. I follow her gaze, looking over my own shoulder. The man he was standing with has quickly disappeared.

“Holt?” Selene’s voice quivers, pulling my attention back to her. A string of spit dangles from her mouth, and she sniffs as her back racks with a sob.

“I’m here, Wallflower. What happened?” I continue to gather any loose strands of hair and tuck a few behind her ear, away from her face.

“I don’t know.” She spits on the ground before turning her head to look up at me. Tears line her eyes. “I grabbed a glass of champagne, came out here to look for you, and I started to feel sick again. I couldn’t hold it down.”

She turns back to face the ground. One hand is perched on her knee, her other wrapped around her middle. An empty champagne glass rests at her feet.

“How many glasses have you had?” I ask her.

She slowly turns her head again. Her worried eyes search mine. “That was my first glass.”

I draw my eyebrows together.

“Oh, no. It’s happening again.” Her cheeks swell, and her body roils, then she’s vomiting again.

Some of her hair falls from my grip but I’m quick to gather it back up. I rub my hand over her back, hating that she’s feeling like this.

“I’m certain being an asshole is the only thing you’re capable of.” My sister’s raised voice in the distance cuts through Selene’s vomiting. “Seriously, you should add that title to all of your company letterheads.”

With one hand wrapped around Selene’s hair, I use the other to rub circles over her back while I listen to what’s going on between Rome and Julianna.

“Oh, God.” Selene groans, lifting her hand to wipe the back of it across her mouth.

“Tell me, Lark,” Rome announces raising his arms in the air. “Lay it on me. Release me from this torture.”

“Oh.” Julianna snorts. “Now, you want to listen to me?”

“If it’ll get you to stop chasing me like a sad, pathetic, lost little kitten, then yes. Anything to get you to stop talking.”

A pause, then, “Now I remember why I hate you.”

“Feeling’s mutual, Lark.”

“Stop calling me that!” she shouts.

Rome exhales sharply and stuffs his hands into his pockets as he looks away dismissively. “What have you been chasing me all night to tell me? Let’s get this over with so I can go home in peace.”

“You’re the one who slithered your way in here like the serpent I’ve always known you to be,” Julianna lashes out. “I take that back. You aren’t a serpent, you’re a coward. Sneaking into the one place no one will be able to recognize you under that mask. You have no reason to be here.”

“Very original, Lark.” Rome scoffs, unamused. “Why don’t you try coming up with new insults to hurl at me? It would make our interactions a little more worthwhile.”

“What’s happening?” Selene asks with a shaky voice, still bent over.

“I don’t know,” I mutter, not tearing my eyes away from my sister and Rome.

Selene vomits again.

“I’ve been trying to reach you for weeks,” Julianna seethes angrily.

“I’m aware,” Rome replies dryly.

“Great.” Julianna plants her hands on her hips. “Well, since you’ve asked so kindly as to why I’ve been trying to talk to you, I’ll tell you. I was hoping I could convince you to drop this lawsuit against Holt.”

“Why should I? He knowingly published an article that was clearly defamatory. Do you understand the damage this has caused? Although, I do have to give him credit where credit is due. Took balls for Holt to do it, considering our family history.”

“Holt wasn’t aware of the article.”

“How do you know?”

“Because I just do,” Julianna clips.

“So, what are you saying?” Rome takes a small, measured step closer to Julianna. “You were aware of it?”

A long, torturous pause.

Selene sniffs and pulls herself to stand upright. I reach inside my front pocket and grip the bottom of her chin, using my pocket square to clean up her face. I stare into her eyes, worried she hasn’t been feeling well lately. First, the day of the interview with Cory, then earlier, after dinner. Now, the champagne.

“Yes,” Julianna states loudly.

Selene’s and my attention to each other breaks, shifting to Rome and Julianna.

“And how would you know that if your brother didn’t?” Rome asks.

“Because it was me!” Julianna’s cries are clear. “I wrote the article.”

Rome’s amused expression falls, completely disappearing under the moonlight.

“Of course you did.” He lifts his chin in defiance, curling his lip. His eyes darken beneath his mask.

I’m several dozen feet from Julianna and Rome, but distance doesn’t matter when it comes to recognizing my sister’s expression. Her chin wobbles, and her entire upper body stiffens.

“Drop the lawsuit against Holt,” she grinds out. “This war ends now.”

Rome’s silence is deafening. He simply stands a few feet away from her, unmoving. Julianna doesn’t waste another second before she’s spinning on her heel. She gathers the length of her dress in her hands and marches back toward the party with her head hanging low.

By the time I look back to see Rome, he’s gone, disappearing like a ghost.

“What the hell was that?” Selene asks.

I shake my head, too stunned with what just unfolded.

Then I look at my girl.

“Are you okay?” I cradle Selene’s face in my hands, massaging my fingers into her hair. “Do you need to go to the hospital?”

“No,” she answers weakly with a small smile, her masked eyes searching my face. “Must have been the champagne. I just want to go home. Please take me home.”

“I’ll take you wherever you want to go, Wallflower.” I bend to scoop her into my arms. “Where you go, I go.”

She drapes her arms around my neck, and I’m pulled back to the night I took her home when she was drunk. But this time, she isn’t looking at me with alcohol-soaked eyes.

Instead, she’s looking at me with love.