"Good girl," she praises, running the brush through my hair.
After a moment, Heather leans forward, eyes bright. “Oh, I have to tell you something.”
I glance over. “What?”
She bites her lip, as though measuring whether I’m ready. “Micah…told me he loves me last week. For the first time.”
My mouth falls open. “Wait—why didn’t you tell me?”
“I didn’t want you to feel weird about it,” she says with a shrug, tugging at a seam on her jeans.
I smile, the small curve of happiness blooming despite everything else. I reach out to take her hand. “I’m so happy for you,” I say, squeezing gently. “I can see it. I know he loves you.”
Heather’s grin lights the room like sunlight through glass. She’s about to say more when the door bursts open, and in walks Micah, Rafe, Nico, and Kieran.
Adela mutters without looking up, “Wow…suddenly feels too stuffy in here with all the testosterone.”
The guys roll their eyes. Every single one of them. Rafe takes a step forward and leans down, speaking in a low voice. “I’ll show you testosterone, little doe.”
She giggles, shoving him away playfully, but I can still see the hunger flash in his eyes before he turns his attention to me. “How are you feeling?” he asks, crossing his muscular arms across his chest. “You excited to be my date?”
I nod, reaching for my sternum on autopilot.
He tracks the movement. “Remember, only you and I are going in. Act like you’re my associate. Keep your head up, your presence confident, and your emotions controlled. If you see Jude, keep your shit together. Got it?”
I swallow, immediately pulling my hand away. “Right,” I say.
“You may have to dip into uncomfortable territory,” he adds casually, but the weight behind the words makes my stomach twist. “Just follow my lead. Play your part perfectly.”
I nod again.
Adela finishes brushing my hair, letting it fall in smooth, glossy layers around my shoulders. She studies me critically, tilting my head this way and that. “You looklovely,”she says finally, the corners of her mouth softening into a genuine smile.
“What does he mean by‘uncomfortable territory’?”I ask, though hesitantly.
Rafe doesn’t answer immediately. He leans closer, lowering his voice even further. “You’ll see. Just…trust me. Follow my cues. The underworld is filled with men and monsters alike. Sometimes you’ll witness things you want to rage against.”
“Example?” I ask, genuinely curious.
A sad smile forms on his lips. “Trafficking, for example. Slavery. Often at these kinds of events, you’ll notice men and women who are...owned. They don’t look happy to be there, or are touched obviously without clear consent. It’s uncomfortable, especially for someone like you.”
I swallow hard, rubbing my sternum now. Heather watches me, knowing my nervous tick better than anyone.
Nico leans casually against the doorframe, earpiece already in place. “We’ll be listening. Cameras are hacked. Everything’s ready. It’ll go according to plan. We won’t talk to you unless absolutely necessary, though. Just do what you need to do and get out.”
I glance at my reflection in the mirror, shoulder-length dark hair framing my face. I’m about to step into a world I don’t belong in—but I’m supposed to make them believe I do.
Heather squeezes my hand one last time. “You’ve got this,” she whispers.
I inhale slowly. "I know."
The valet hands us off, and we step into a world that smells like old money and perfume, candles burning in golden sconces, conversation mixing with a string quartet somewhere to our left. The room is dim, warm, and somehow intimate, even with the hundreds of people packed into it. The guest count already makes my chest feel tighter than usual. Stupid social anxiety. Even with our gold masquerade masks.
Reds, blacks, and golds shimmer on the walls and the floor, rich fabrics and sparkling jewelry everywhere I look. It’s unlike anything I’ve ever seen. I smooth my black dress—fitted silk and satin that clings to my waist and flares just at the knee. The neckline dips modestly, but the cut of it is elegant and dangerous at the same time. Thin straps leave my shoulders bare, and the fabric slides against my skin when I move. Every movement makes me feel exposed. I’m not used to wearing dresses that cost four times more than my monthly mortgage.
Rafe walks beside me, his height nearly a threat in itself. Black suit tailored to perfection over his broad shoulders. His hair is tousled just enough to look careless, but his icy eyes are intense as always. He towers over me like Jude used to. He sets his hand lightly on the small of my back, guiding me forward through the crowd. The touch is grounding, and it makes my nerves knot and unknot at the same time. I take a shaky breath.
“The funny thing is...whether you smile or not couldn’t matter less here. I could be your owner for all these people know,” he whispers, close enough for me to feel the heat of his words. “This is one of those times where you don’tnecessarilyhave to look perfect.”