Shame (Ruin 3)
CHAPTER EIGHT
“Tell me a secret,” I whispered in her ear. I was a collector of secrets. I used them as currency and knew if I had all of hers, I could own her like she owned me.
“I don’t like being mean,” she finally said. “But I love you.”
She was eighteen. She didn’t know what love was. If I was love, then she was seriously deranged, maybe even more so than I. Then again, I was a great actor. I was charismatic, good-looking, rich — and the best part? She had no freaking clue who I really was. Didn’t even know my last name. How great is that? I’d like to think that in the end, when this is all over, when I’m gone, I’d done one thing right. I’d at least protected my family from the demons. —The Journal of Taylor B.
Tristan
THE BLACK MASK covered up my entire face, leaving only spots to breathe and two holes for my eyes. My hair fell in waves over my forehead as I hurried through the doors into the main ballroom. Usually at functions like this, I had my hair slicked back, professional-looking, but I’d run out of time to do anything but leave it as was, which meant I probably looked like an untamed hellion.
Everything was transformed. The Hilton hotel downtown may as well have been the setting to some regency-inspired movie.
I was nervous. Not that I had any reason to be. It wasn’t like Lisa was going to be there, or that I’d have to fight that ever-growing attraction to her that pissed me off on a daily basis. Grinding my teeth together, I pulled on my white gloves then adjusted my black tie. My suit was head-to-toe black, custom-made, only something a Westinghouse would wear.
After all, tonight I wasn’t the undercover professor. Damn, just saying it in my head sounded so wrong.
Tonight, I was son to a very important, very wealthy man. And I had to play the part I’d been born to play my whole life. The part of perfection. Perfect straight smile, smooth talker. I wasn’t vain enough to think I was actually all of those things, but I knew damn well how to pull it off so that every single person within my vicinity was eating out of the palm of my hand.
The orchestra played softly in the background as people swayed in rhythm in the middle of the parquet dance floor. The chandelier’s golden glow mixed with the silver moonlight dripping through the windows and gave the room a fairytale ambience. Tall, white-tapered candles stood at intervals across each buffet table, casting flickering reflections off silver chafing dishes.
And the masks. Good God, the masks. They were everywhere, hiding the guests’ faces… and their secrets. The rich liked that — the masks. They made them feel mysterious.
The place looked… nice. Then again, for five hundred a head, the place had better look nice. It was hard not to think about the money being spent, considering that was part of my job, though a small part. Make sure to throw enough money to make the family look good. Make sure that my father looked good.
I made my way across the room, gliding between the bodies of people and sidestepped an elderly woman, only to run directly into someone in the process.
Black lace brushed against my gloves as I lightly laid my hands on her petite shoulders to steady her. I cleared my throat and mumbled, “Apologies.”
Bright blue eyes peered up at me through a black mask. It covered half of her face, making her red lips look so inviting I almost leaned forward to have a taste.
“Oh.” Her voice was husky. “…it was me anyway. I can’t see out of the mask.”
I smirked, still not removing my hands from her shoulders. “I’d keep it on.”
“Why’s that?”
“Rules.” I nodded sternly then offered a smile. “You don’t want to be known as a rule-breaker, do you?”
“Hmm…” She tapped her chin. “…that depends.”
“On?” I leaned forward, breathless with anticipation.
“What I get for breaking them,” she whispered.
Her dark hair was pulled back into a low tight bun; pieces fell across her face, tempting me to tuck them behind her ear then kiss her until she begged me for more. My reaction to her was borderline-violent. I’d never felt such a strong attraction to a complete stranger — unless you counted Lisa, and counting her just pissed me off. She’d been his, not mine. And, if my suspicious were true, she’d driven him to complete madness. No thank you.
“Dance?” I slid my hands down her arm then tucked her into my body, making it impossible for her to escape.
“Is that within the rules?” she teased.
“Only if we keep our identities hidden.”
“Really?” She laughed. “Are you joking or serious?”
“I never joke.” I shook my head and leaned forward, whispering across her ear. “But tonight, for you, I’ll do anything.”
“Wow!” She pulled back and placed her hands on my shoulders as we fell into step with the other dancers. “You’re really putting on the moves, Mr. Rule Breaker!”