MONTHS EARLIER

The ivory floor length dress hugs every dangerous curve of my body as I wait patiently for the elevator to open.

I glance covertly over my shoulder, the beige walls pristine and boring. A bellhop walks past me, his short ginger hair sticking up every which way as I wait for the precious ding.

I let out a bored breath and glare at the numbers, willing them to move.

Finally, they start ascending until it hits the floor above mine, twelve - I scoff and glare harder at the number.

"Stupid fucking number."

A worker looks at me as if I'm crazy before hastening their steps.

I grimace.

They might be right.

The doors slide open with a ding, and I shake off the sweet melancholy and enter.

I smile politely at the people inside and see the ground button has already been selected.

A man stands in the back corner, his hands tucked neatly in his suit pockets, face impassive as he watches the doors.

His features are hidden even with the three mirrors surrounding us, yet my focus stays locked on him. Curiosity outweighs conscious thought and I stare hard at his reflection.

The numbers count down and we stop while I continue to stare at him.

The elevator dings and I take a step to exit when a gruff voice echoes in the compact place.

"This isn't your stop."

My head lifts and I catch a sharp jaw and stubbled cheeks before looking at the floor number. I move out of the way as people file out, leaving the stranger and I alone.

"How do you know?" I sass even as I step back and watch the doors shut.

"With that dress, you would only be going to the Gala."

"You never know, maybe I'm meeting a gentleman in his room and wanted to dress up for a good fuck."

Sometimes I watch what I say, sometimes I don't. This would be one of those occasions.

A chuckle reaches my ears, and my muscles tighten as the sound of his amusement dances across my skin.

"If you wanted to be thoroughly fucked, you wouldn't be finding a gentlemen on the second floor."

I turn to the stranger who makes the danger in my blood sing with one conversation.

"Well, if you find such a gentlemen, send him my way." I flirt before stopping myself, forcing myself to focus on the task at hand.

"If you insist." His accented tone flutters down my spine and I shiver.

His face is still hidden, and I tilt my head to get a better look, yet his features are still a mystery.

The doors ding behind me, and I twist to find we've reached my floor.

A clothed shoulder brushes past mine and I watch as the dark-haired man stalks out, his posture oozing danger and sex.

My two favourite combinations.

I follow after him as he walks through the Gala doors and hurry when he disappears behind them.

When I reach the door, the man is gone and all I can see is a sea of rich and entitled people.

"Won't be finding a gentlemen here either." I whisper to myself before walking further in and getting lost in the crowds.

I walk past a waiter and swipe a champagne flute, shedding my persona like a snake sheds skin as I turn my nose up slightly and look down on those beside me.

The disdain oozing off my body isn't fake as a hand passes over my ass. It isn't accidental with the squeeze they deliver.

I turn and see a flock of feathers in my way.

"Fuck."

Everyone is wearing masks.

"This is why we read the invitations, Lilac." I spin and stalk back out the doors.

Time to procure a mask.

• • •

The ballroom is extravagant in the heavenly lights of the dangling crystal chandeliers, yet all I want to do is sin.

People spin and drink in each other's embraces and I just drink.

The bubbly liquid tingles along my tastebuds and slips down my throat, leaving me with liquified thoughts.

I wander through the swaying bodies, eyes searching faces and cataloguing information.

It'd be a lot easier if I didn't have a stupid feathered white mask obscuring half my face and tickling at my neck.

The woman I borrowed it off wouldn't mind, she was sleeping in the third stall at the ladies' toilets.

Although it would be a lot easier to find my target if the masks didn't make everyone look the same.

A huff races past my lips, my search for my target slowing as faces blend together.

A hand winds itself around my own and I flinch for my gun, stopping only when I see the sweaty face smiling back at me.

"May I have this dance?" The older man doesn't give me a chance to reply as he pulls me to his chest. His high-end suit rubbing against my palms as I steady myself.

I stare down at him and see a ball of sweat roll down his temple.

I don't move and the man glances over his shoulder.

I follow the move and see a group of aristocrats watching his every move - and mine by default.

It wouldn't do to cause attention to myself this early.

I drop the rest of the champagne down my throat, leaving the glass flute behind on a passing table.

The music starts up, a slow melody erupting around the dancing partners and causing many to find a partner to sway with.

My skin ripples in disgust as the man runs his grubby hands down my spine and rests them on the curve of my back.

We dance slowly as the song reaches its peak and continue until it slows to a dull thud in my ears. The music ends and I smile politely, making to step away when the man's hand tightens on mine, his smile showing more teeth than needed.

"Another." He demands.

" I really shouldn't, I need-"

"I insist."

I insist on shoving my heeled foot up your ass, but you don't see me doing it.

I debate stabbing him with my knife. Not much just enough to slowly bleed out but then decide it's not the best course of action if I want to go unnoticed.

"I really must go." I try again, my words clipped.

"You would deny me a dance?"

"With all due respect Sir, I already gave you a dance, and I will not subject myself to anymore touching from a pig." I spit lowly as his hands tighten harshly around my waist and hand.

"Do you know who-"

"I believe the lady requested a new dance partner?" A voice interrupts the grabby man's declaration, and a strong arm drops around my arms, pulling me into their side.

I glance from the side of my eye as a dark-haired man appears beside me. His black tux snug against his broad shoulders and a black mask covering half his face. The fabric obscuring most of his features from my line of sight besides his sensual lips and dark - almost black hair. "Did she not?"

The man in front of us blanches before throwing my hand back at me as if I were the disgusting one and stomps away, his rotund frame bumping against the still-dancing partners.

"Thank you." I say softly, subtly looking up at his mask to see if I can catch any of his distinguishing features.

His arm drops from around my shoulders, and he takes a step back, bending slightly at the waist and offering me his hand. The shift in posture causing his eyes to catch the light, the honeyed depths twinkling. His lips quirk up at the side as he stares at me.

"We shouldn't disappoint your former dance partner; would you like to dance?"

"I'd love to."

We walk further into the middle of the dance floor, my white dress skimming the floor and his black tuxedo a stark contrast.

His strong arm winds itself around my waist once more and he takes my hand in his.

"What's your name?" He asks curiously.

"You tell me yours and I will tell you mine." I reply.

"You can call me Romeo."

I tilt my head as he spins me in a circle before I reply. "Then you can call me Juliet."

A dazzling grin lights up the parts of his face I can see.

"A romantic, a woman after my own heart."

I refrain from correcting his statement to a tragedy.

We sway back and forth to the music, the song ending and another starting but we don't separate. I use the opportunity to watch the crowds and search for my intended target.

I notice his eyes watching me as we take a spin and I glance back, catching his gaze and the questions lingering there.

The song passes before he finally opens his mouth, the next starting.

"So, what brings you here tonight?"

"My job." It's not a lie, technically. "Yourself?"

"Family business." He says, glancing away and watching the crowd. He doesn't elaborate, his jaw tightening. He glances around as if searching for something.

I hum under my breath and continue dancing. The music picks up pace and Romeo spins me once, twice before abruptly stopping.

I stumble and catch myself before I fall.

"I'm sorry to cut this short, but I have to do something." Romeo smiles apologetically, his eyes straying over my shoulder.

I follow his line of sight but only see groups of dancers. I scan the crowd and see the person I came to this Gala for.

My own target. He swaggers as if the world is at his feet, his every whim only a whistle away. I narrow my darkening gaze, breath shallow with anticipation.

He turns suddenly and the breath gets sucked back into my lungs, my blood slowing as I watch another man approach.

"I'm afraid I'm going to have to hand you off to my brother, lest that man place his sweaty hands on you again." I blink my gaze back to Romeo, catching the sentence before his hand is letting go of mine. My eyes flit over his shoulder but I lose sight of both my target and the other man.

Swallowing I look back at Romeo, who gives me a charming grin and takes my hand kissing it, "It was lovely dancing with you." Before passing my hand around like it's his.

I open my mouth to make my own escape when my eyes catch the ones of his brother.

Dark mysterious eyes watch me through an ebony mask, his lips tilted up in a smirk, stubbled jaw as sharp as his eyes.

"I knew you were coming to the Gala."

Recognition blooms.

I purse my lips and lift my other hand, placing it on his broad shoulders and vaguely see Romeo leave my line of sight.

"And my gentlemen arrives."

His chuckle caresses' my neck as he spins us slowly, fingers scorching through fabric to imprint against my skin.

"I've never been called that before." He murmurs lowly.

I tilt my head and let the silence linger between us like a physical entity.

"So, are you here for business as well?" I ask after scanning the crowd for my target, but he's been swallowed by the partygoers.

The man hums from the back of his throat, the sound rough and gravely. "I'm more a man of pleasure."

My lips lift at the corners without thought as his fingers tighten on my waist, drawing me in.

He spins us, my feet gliding over the shining floor. His hand in mine, heating. My eyes are drawn to the appendage, eyes narrowing on the scars littered across the tan skin. Connecting from one to the other as a picture begins to form behind my eyes.

"What's your name?" His voice erupts from nowhere, my eyes drawn back to his. And he spins us, drawing us further into the middle of the crowd.

I only tilt my head and lift my brow, firing the question back at him with my eyes.

He chuckles. "John Smith."

"Funny, Jane Smith." I shrug a shoulder and smile demurely. His eyes twinkle under the chandelier, pulling me a fraction closer to the heat of his body.

"What a coincidence." He hushes in my ear, lips skimming the shell.

"There is no such thing." I reply.

A chuckle goes through his chest as we sway to the rhythm of the music.

"No." My eyes catch his, the twinkle in his eye no doubt reflecting in mine, as he closes the gap between us. "I suppose there's not."

He spins me as we dance, the movement pulling us closer to the edge of the dance floor.

The slow music threads through our close bodies, twining around us like the wind through tinkling charms. My heart speeds up in tune with the gravitating music, our movements becoming quicker, more precise. My eyes never stray from Johns', my attention fixated on him.

The song changes and the hand on my back grows hotter, bringing us closer together. My breath speeds up, the music changing from slow to sensual. I spin with him, our feet in sync. At the crescendo of the rhythm, my leg lifts as he dips me, the dark twinkle in his eyes growing as he watches me. When he pulls me forward again, I find myself at the edge of the dance floor not wanting to stop dancing with him.

I close my eyes and breathe in quietly before opening them at the chill that pricks my exposed arms.

"Somethings come up. I've got to go, I'm sorry." His lips whisper along my hand before cold wraps around me.

John is gone. I can faintly see his dark head of hair merging with the crowd once more.

I can still feel the ghost of his hands on my waist. Like a tattoo imprinted on my skin and in my mind, burning hotter and hotter before it abruptly grows cold.

Forgetting the encounter, I quickly make my way across the dance floor and take a seat at the bar.

I order a whiskey on the rocks, letting the burning amber race down my throat as soon as it's placed in front of me.

My head falls back, and I let out an almost silent groan, the ache in my shoulders intensifying. Wine red hair falls against my shoulder, and I brush it back, palming the ache and crack my neck side to side, spinning to survey the crowd and finish what I came here to do before I get caught.

Within a second I find the man once more, his swagger now once more accompanied with the same man from before.

It takes all my willpower to stay seated and not put a bullet through my father's eyes.

I blink from the numb quiet that's taken over my mind, letting the tinkling laughter of the room wash over me.

The sound of a bullet hits the air, shattering the giddiness of a drink filled night.

Glass shatters, the crystalline bottles above me raining down like glitter. I curl inward, covering my head from the intrusion and slip off the stool, bending to the ground. I slip my leg along the ground until it straightens and drag a finger along my calf until I reach the pistol at my ankle.

I slip it out and scan the panicking crowd for the shooter.

More bullets hit the air, the screeches of women and men alike rattle the air.

John enters my vision, the gun in his hand plain to see.

"Fucking hell."

Knew I should've been paying more attention.

I aim my gun at him before noticing his own is not aimed at me but to the side. I change the aim and fire at the three men that come bursting through the front entrance, two guns in each hand as they look at me.

The bullet flies past them, embedding itself in the wall. Standing up, I rush around the bar, not caring about my target.

Just knowing that whoever these people are.

I'm their target.