Fallen Ashes |✔️

Masquerade

I awoke to the sound of Enya- the maid- knocking at my door before bursting in to throw the curtains wide open as I hissed at the sunlight.

I still hadn't properly adjusted to the move back into the mansion, hence why the vastness of my room remained spotless- almost untouched. The last few nights had mainly involved me collapsing onto the bed with exhaustion especially after last night's encounter with Vero.

In fact, the sounds of at least a dozen cleaners, decorators and other workers my father had hired could be heard shuffling around the hall outside.

This could not be good.

"We need to find you a dress." Enya beamed.

Enya had been an old worker from back in Greece- despite her being paid generously for maintaining the confidentiality of what goes on in the house, the fear in her eyes at the sight of my father's occasional outbursts made me wonder what truly kept her here.

"If you think I'm going to go dress shopping to marry that Belgian runt you can shove it up-"

Her slightly wrinkled face lit up with a fiendish smile as she sighed. "Not for the wedding, for the masquerade ball of course."

Shit.

So my father seemed to have remembered my nineteenth birthday tomorrow. But there was a cost to everything, and the potential rewards for this latest scheme of his were undoubtedly his motivation for carrying this out.

Nausea and my own misery beckoned me to lie in my bed all day, perhaps forever until I never had to confront Vero, who no doubt also had a hand in convincing my father to this ball.

If anything, it was a political manoeuvre of sorts, for my father to extend his vast reach- a way to update his current positions with allies, to remind them of his power. I dreaded the likely possibility that I would not be able to escape Vero and his family as he lay claim to me in front of everyone. A stunning trophy for his towering form.

A ghost of a smile lit up my eyes in anticipation. If they wanted a masked ball, I'd give them a goddamn sight they couldn't take their eyes off.

___

By nightfall my father had brought about a flawless transformation of the mansion into a dark wonderland. The halls were adorned with differing arrays of flowers, with the occasional bejeweled daggers and chests of glittering junk also put on display.

I noticed guards stationed at every entrance and exit, armed to the teeth in an attempt to remind every guest where they were- the mansion of my father, Kratos, the leader of the most powerful mafia in the states. Whatever they wanted to call him, I knew the night would be one to remember as I eyed the congregation of visitors arriving in sleek, expensive vehicles from the safety of my room.

Masks served his purpose to partially conceal the guests- perfect for his covert talks of business, I realised. And they would work well for me too, as I grinned at the look of the elegant black patterned mask which rested on the top half of my face.

Accompanied with a devellish crimson dress of satin, clinging to my body, embracing every curve. The promise of trouble in my eyes accompanied with the plunging neckline of the dress was enough to send any man running- or to bring them closer if they dared.

I was a dark angel with my locks bouncing and cascading as I moved- no, glided across the halls with the grace of a predatory animal.

Father had made use of a large, previously unused chamber of the mansion. The perfect size for a ball, with slightly wary men already crowding by the alcohol corner. But as I strode in, many heads turned to see the jewel of the night, the predatory queen in the skin of an angel.

Chairs and tables had been set accordingly, with Domino looking exhausted after moaning about having to organise seating plans. Mafia men had fragile egos indeed- and there was my father, his eyes calculating and searching as ever. I could have sworn I saw a man trembling as he talked to him.

The chamber was a fallen hell, with the middle of the vast chamber cleared for dancing, the floor so polished that I could see my reflection in it, wondering how long it would be until Vero came crawling for me.

And soon enough he was there, swaggering towards me like a moth to a light, ushering the queen of the night to the floor. I almost tensed at the ravenous look in his eyes, despite his mask. Debating if I might 'accidentally' spill red wine onto his white shirt.

He held me almost too tightly- not that the others noticed as they watched in awe. I silently nodded in recognition to Pax who sat away from the center with his parents and Zoe who I'd kept around looking as if she would collapse at the sight of all the pretty killers in the room.

It would have been rude to only dance with one man of course, my father had said. And so I found myself drifting away from Vero, spinning and being spun by other men who I hardly had time to even recognise as I kept moving across the floor, like a ballerina with the grace of a devil.

Vero made a move for me again and I stepped on his toes, chuckling as I turned to another man waiting in earnest, his mask of darkest night complimenting his slightly ruffled hair. His grip on me was strong- a skilled dancer too as we glided across the floor. I made notice of his muscled arms, the familiar curve of his jaw, and the ends of a tattoo I couldn't fully make out creeping up his neck.

"Have you ever considered smiling, princess?" the voice sounded amused, as if I'd heard it a million times before.

Ash.

I almost tripped over myself in horror at the look of trouble in his eyes, telling me enough about him to know he hadn't been invited. And to many of the men in this room, he was an enemy. And he had just waltzed into a lions den of mafia rivals.

"Why the fuck are you here?" Was all I got out, my voice a mixture between a rasp and a hiss.

"For fun."

I was going to kill him for showing up like this. For his audacity to claim me as if I were already his.

I almost didn't speak again as he gently caressed my cheek and yet his expression promised everything that wasn't gentle at all. I felt my cheeks slowly turning to the same crimson as my dress.

I should have slit his throat for doing this, damning the consequences.

"I should bury you in the fucking ground." I almost spat at him as he continued to glide across the floor with me- two dark angels.

"I could snap your neck and hand you over to the Belgian fucker." He flashed me an impossibly sweet smile. Part me of didn't wasn't to kill him- not yet. I knew his potential as an ally to help me stop the wedding and kill the Prince of scars if everything went to shit.

And I realised everyone was watching, with Vero looking especially furious. And even my father stopping to turn.

I let a small part of myself relax, letting myself dance across the ballroom with the eyes of mafia men fixating upon us.

At the dark devil who had found his equally dark queen. I felt that moment to be a small reprieve, to be terrified and yet fearless. To promise I'd kill the bastard who swaggered his way in here to dance with me but to feel as if killing him would make me lose the sensation that burned through me.

Even my mask couldn't hide my traitorous smile as I found a moment solitude in a room of killers and conmen.

I hope you enjoyed this chapter!