Crimson. My eyes find that color again and again, cutting through the throng, like a thread pulling me closer. Ursula drifts alongside her, laughing, their hands brushing occasionally, fingers curling together in familiarity. I notice every detail—the tilt of her chin, the way the mask obscures the smile in her eyes but cannot hide the curve of her lips. The subtle twitch of her shoulder tells me she feels eyes on her. I do. Ialwayshave.
I pause at a fountain, pretending to adjust my cuff, letting her drift a few steps ahead. My pulse slows only fractionally as I study her from afar, calculating my approach. She isn’t looking for me. She doesn’t know who I am.
I move again, careful to follow the natural flow of the crowd, letting it act as cover. A group of Chavez men passes between us, and I pause, letting them block the view for a heartbeat longer than necessary. Her laugh echoes, a light, musical sound that claws at me, familiar and teasing.
I remind myself:Not yet. Patience.
The distance closes slowly, inches at a time. A waiter passes with a tray of champagne flutes, and I step into the shadow of his path, merging with the crowd as if by accident. My hands remain in my jacket pockets, casual and controlled, but my mind calculates every potential risk.
She tilts her head, catching the light in her mask, and something in me stirs. I’ve had haunted nights with the memory of her last Halloween, her voice, the curve of her lips beneath that small, perfect grin. Could it be her? Could the girl who tormented my thoughts for a year really be here, right in front of me, laughing like she belongs?
Maria—Princess’s shadow—nudges her slightly, pulling her attention. The moment is perfect. I step closer, letting the crowd’s chatter shield me from prying eyes. One more turn around the fountain, one more careful weave between groups, and I am within arm’s reach.
I stop just outside the small circle of light bathing her face, my presence a whisper in the chaos. Ursula glances toward me, curiosity flickering in her gaze, but she doesn’t speak. Sophia does not see me yet, or maybe she does, she appears good at hiding things.
My eyes roam over her, drinking her in. Every movement, every gesture, every heartbeat in the rhythm of her stance pulls me forward. And then…
She turns her head slightly, as if sensing something, and our eyes meet beneath the masks. Recognition? Maybe. Intrigue? Definitely. Desire? Undeniable. The air between us ignites. It’s silent, electric, and oh so dangerous.
Taking another step, I close the distance, careful not to startle her.
My voice drops low, almost a murmur beneath the hum of the party. “Enjoying the night?”
Her mask tilts, a hint of amusement in the curve of her lips. “And who wants to know?”
The game has begun.
Chapter Two
Sophia
He’s tall, dark, and undeniably handsome. But there’s something familiar about him—the curve of his smile, the way his eyes crinkle just enough to wish the mask weren’t hiding them. I shouldn’t even be noticing, not at Papa’s party, not with the sea of strangers I don’t know or don’t want to. Maybe he’s different.
“I like your costume.”
I twirl, letting my laughter float in the air. “My father picked it.”
He glances past me at Maria. “And your costumes never disappoint. That candy bucket from last year, reinvented?”
I tilt my head, stepping back, pretending to examine Maria while catching the glint in his eyes. She’s completely oblivious to his dig about last year, and how does he know?
“Hey, some of us have to work with what we’ve got,” Maria says with a shrug. “Although… this is probably the last year I can get away with revamping this one. Three years in a row, and after not being able to clean it properly, it’s ready for the scrap heap.”
She looks up at me and smiles, but like the good friend she is, she senses something’s off.
I reach for her hand for support, my pulse quickening, and ask him, “How … how did you know Maria was a candy bucket last year?”
He scans the crowd, then tilts his head toward me. “I preferred your costume last year too. Your take on Día de los Muertos … much more suited than this outfit, Princess.”
My hand flutters to my chest.
Maria laughs, eyes sparkling. “It’s you! The sexy stranger from last year at the club.”
“Maria! Lower your voice… and remember, Papa has ears everywhere.”
Frantically, I scan the crowd, my chest tightening with every moving body. Someone could be watching … someone could belistening.
He reaches out, his fingers curling around mine. My pulse stutters at the contact.
