With every party the Prince of Darkness threw, it was always meant to outdo the previous one. And so it was still with tonight’s masquerade, with his friend’s vast compound temporarily transformed into an opulently decadent version of Dante’s Inferno. All the men were dressed in black, their faces covered by ebony silk masks, while the women had donned gowns of every conceivable shade of red – from crimson to wine red, blush to scarlet, and in Kharis’ case ---

A blood-red paper bag over her face, to match the color of her gown.

“I can feel you scowling at me,” the billionaire murmured.

“You’re meant to,” Kharis grumbled. “Everyone’s staring at me.”

“As they should, since you have me exclusively by your side.”

“Ha. Ha. Ha! We both know that’s not it,” she muttered. “It’s this ridiculous paper bag---”

“Get rid of that,” he said silkily, “and you might as well get rid of the ring on your finger.”

Kharis gasped, one hand automatically flying to protect said ring. “Meanie!”

He gave her a dazzling smile, saying pleasantly, “Only because you’re threatening to go back on your word, baby girl.” He pulled her close to his side before she could answer, saying under his breath, “Enough arguing. Let’s just enjoy the rest of the night.”

And how ironic those last words were, the billionaire couldn’t help thinking. Between the two of them, he was actually the one who was struggling to enjoy the prince’s masquerade, and it was all because he couldn’t get Fredericka’s words out of his mind.

I’ve never seen you happy like this so – why risk ruining it?

A question he couldn’t stop thinking about, but a question he also had no answer to. As the evening progressed, the billionaire did his best to shove it to the back to his mind while he made sure Kharis enjoyed the party to the fullest. He also took the time to introduce her to a few close and trusted friends. There was Misha Grachyov, who had charmed Kharis with his Russian accent, Steel March with Sabrina Wyle---

When the last couple had left, she had tiptoed to whisper into his ear, “Isn’t she the girlfriend of Dylan Charbonneau, the guy from Minuit Rouge?”

“She is.”

She reared back in shock. “But she’s with another guy?”

Christien’s lips twitched. “You act like you’ve seen them have sex.”

“But I shipped them soooo hard…”

Kharis’ unhappy tone had him sighing, and he pressed a kiss on top of her head, saying, “Relax, baby girl. No need to shed tears for them. Dylan’s here, too. He’s going to perform tonight, and that’s why he’s not with Bree.”

“Oh!”

The relief in her voice was unmistakable, and when she looked up at him, he could practically see her smile shining past the paper bag.

“I’m glad.”

And so she was, the billionaire thought broodingly, when she shouldn’t have been affected in the first place. It just made him so much more vulnerable and fragile, and the people who could and did hurt her more unforgivably callous.

I’ve never seen you happy like this so – why risk ruining it?

The billionaire automatically shoved the words out of his mind and to keep himself busy and distracted, he divided his time between kissing Kharis in all the shadowy corners he could find and introducing her to his other friends.

Steel March’s younger brother had also come, alongside his girlfriend Lace and the entire varsity basketball team of the university. They made a rather flashy group, albeit somewhat eccentric, with the towering players following behind their mother hen, and with Silver March languidly bringing up the rear.

It was a little past one when the billionaire caught Kharis yawning more than once in the past ten minutes. “That’s it, baby girl. We’re going.” She pleaded for him to stay longer but the billionaire shook his head. “This isn’t the last party Reid will throw,” he said gently. “So there’s no reason to lose sleep over this.”

After letting their hosts know they were leaving, they headed towards the main doors and while waiting for their limousine to come up the driveway, a familiar figure came walking up on the sidewalk. It was none other than Hailey Athanas, a girl who used to be the only female member of the Afxisi, a college biker club that also served as a front for a billion-dollar underground racing enterprise.

As the billionaire automatically made the introductions between the two young women, he unconsciously started scanning the crowd queued to enter the main house.

“If you’re looking for Andreus---” Hailey’s smile didn’t quite reach her eyes. “He’s not here. I came alone.”

“Who’s Andreus?” Kharis asked.

“A friend,” the billionaire answered the same time Hailey said quietly, “No one important.”

There was a moment of silence and then Kharis cleared her throat and asked, “Do you guys want me to say awkward now?” The words broke the tense silence between the three of them, and this time Hailey’s laugh was genuine and sweet.

“I needed that,” the blonde girl sighed, “so thank you.” Smiling ruefully at Kharis, she said, “I know I’m not supposed to say this, but I’m really glad you’re Christien’s girlfriend and not---” Hailey belatedly saw the warning glint in the billionaire’s eyes and managed to stop herself from mentioning Karolina Martin’s name.

Kharis looked at the other girl expectantly. “Not…who?”

“Any of the countless groupies who hang around him and the other BBFs,” Hailey finished lamely. She sent the billionaire a weak smile in apology before hurrying away, not wanting to accidentally make things worse.

Their limousine arrived not a moment later, and Christien didn’t waste time ushering Kharis inside. This was why he wanted Kharis to stay as far away from Florida as possible, he thought grimly.

But that’s not really the problem, is it, boy?

It was Death again, and it had been so long since he had last heard the voice of his imaginary friend that the billionaire stiffened in his seat.

Seated beside him, Kharis paused in the act of removing the paper bag off her head and glanced at him in concern. “Is everything alright?”

He forced himself to smile. “Of course.”

As the limousine rolled past the gates, Kharis folded the paper bag and placed it next to her. After, she glanced at him again, and something in his face made her brows furrow. “You don’t look okay.” She hesitated then said slowly, “To be honest, you haven’t seemed okay for a while. Ever since Freddie came to visit us---”

“Is that how she is to you now,” he asked broodingly. “You’ve met her just once and she’s already Freddie rather than Fredericka or Attorney?”

“She’s your friend,” Kharis answered simply, “so she’s my friend, too.”

“It can’t be that easy.” It shouldn’t. “You’ll get hurt more that way.” By me.

But Kharis had already started shaking her head before he finished speaking.

“Actually, it is that easy.” And she gave him a sweet, knowing smile. “Because I love you, and you love me.”

“That doesn’t make any sense at all,” he said flatly.

But Kharis only smiled, and he could tell by the look on her face that she only cared about things that made sense to her.

When they made it home, they pleasured each other in the shower before going to bed, and as he pulled her against him, her back against his chest, she whispered sleepily, “Just tell me what’s wrong.”

“Nothing’s wrong.”

“Just because I’m young doesn’t mean I can’t help you,” she mumbled. “You love me, Christien. There are things that I might be the only one who can help you with, because you love me.”

She turned in his arms then, facing him, her brown eyes dark with worry. “We’re in this for the long haul, you know that, right? It means we do things together---”

“So if I jump to my death,” he mocked, “should you then come with me?”

“If you need me to.”

He sat up abruptly, his face white. “Dammit, Kharis.” The sharpness of his tone made her pale, but he didn’t give a fuck. “Never say that,” he gritted out. “Never say that again.” Because there was no guarantee he wouldn’t do it. “Promise me.” While there was every reason to believe she would keep her word.

Kharis rose to a sitting position as well. She tried to reach for him, saying his name softly, but he shook his head and her hand fell away.

“Promise me,” he demanded tightly.

Her lips pursed. “No.”

“Goddammit---” The thought of her dying with him seized his mind, and fear strangled his throat. “Goddammit, Kharis.” He looked at her, the rage in his tone making her flinch but even so she didn’t look away, didn’t take her words back---

She didn’t stop loving him, even knowing that he might as well have admitted to her he could still kill himself in the future.

Without another word, the billionaire got out of bed and stalked out of the room. He needed space. Needed to be away from her so he could think. He needed to remember why he believed he had the right to keep Kharis in his life.

For a long time, he stood in the balcony connected to his apartment’s living room, blind and deaf to Miami’s golden cityscape, still vibrant with life despite the lateness of the night.

When he heard her footsteps, he didn’t turn around, and a second later he felt Kharis’ arms going around his waist, embracing him from behind.

“Please don’t be mad,” she whispered.

His eyes closed. “I’m not.” And he wasn’t, never was and never could be with her.

“I know you’re worrying about me again, but you don’t have to be. You just need to have faith in what we have, Christien. I only said that because I believe in how much you love me. So if you were to ever ask me to do something, no matter how dangerous, I know…” Her arms tightened around him. “I know it’s never because you want to hurt me---”

“And that’s what you don’t get,” he said tiredly. The billionaire turned around, causing her arms to fall limply to her sides. “I will never want to hurt you, but I may still end up doing so.”

“Christien---”

His bleak smile silenced her. “You know what I’m saying is true, baby girl.”

Kharis bit her lip hard, her eyes turning dark with fear. He hated that it was so, but he knew it was better this way. No matter how good things were now---

“You can’t pretend something’s not wrong with me,” the billionaire said quietly.

Kharis shook her head vehemently. “I’m not. I promise you, I’m not. And why would I even want to when you know something’s wrong with me, too, and you’re okay with it. But, Christien---” She took his hands and placed it over her pounding heart. “Something may be wrong with both of us, but what we have here is right. You mustn’t forget that, too.”

* * *

After making sure Kharis had indeed fallen asleep, the billionaire carefully extricated himself from his fiancée’s arms and made his way to the study. There, he placed two calls.

The first one was to a private hospital, requesting for a checkup and certain tests he could take to determine any changes in his condition.

The second one was much shorter but no less important. He left a voice mail on Fredericka’s answering machine, saying simply, “You’re right. And I’d appreciate your help with Karolina. Thanks.”

A long time had passed since he ended the call, but the billionaire remained on his feet, tense and unmoving.

Something may be wrong with both of us, but what we have here is right. You mustn’t forget that, too.

So be it then, the billionaire thought grimly. He would take a leap of faith this once. Just this once, until the Fates showed him otherwise, he would act like he had every chance to spend the rest of his life with Kharis.

* * *

As the sun rose for another day, things moved swiftly in the periphery of the billionaire’s life, the rippling consequences of his actions more far-reaching and devastating than he could ever hope for.

In one of the city’s largest private hospitals, Dr. Armand Colbert read the file of his next patient with growing bitterness and resentment. Neurological damage, the report stated, with possible ongoing psychological trauma.

He tossed the file away in contempt. Yada, yada, yada. So the man had brain issues. Who the fuck cared? Christien di Luca was still luckier than ninety-nine percent of the population. He was born a billionaire and he even had the fucking looks to go with it. Unlike Armand, the asshole never had to work for anything in his life. He on the other hand had to slave day and night to make ends meet while attending medical school, kiss people’s butts to get promoted, and for all his work, what did he get in return?

His wife dumping him for a goddamn gigolo, the doctor thought angrily, and making Armand the laughingstock of the entire hospital in the process.

As the memories added a vicious edge to his temper, he reached for his pen and began scribbling down his interpretation of the test results.

It wasn’t right, wasn’t probably healthy, that Christien di Luca had it all. This man had to be brought down a peg or two, maybe even broken, and Armand knew exactly how to do it.

A few thousand miles away, Fredericka had just finished penning the standard dismissal contract for Christien di Luca’s long-standing mistress. A special courier ensured its delivery in only a few hours, and the letter reached Karolina Martin just as she was preparing for an evening out with friends.

She opened the letter negligently, thinking it was some kind of business offer, but then she started reading---

The woman let out a scream of rage when she realized what it was about.

Just last night, Henrietta Vermont had sent her secretly-taken snapshots from the Prince of Darkness’ party, and in them were Christien di Luca with a mysterious girl wearing a paper bag over her face.

Bitch. Slut. Cunt. She angrily tore the letter into pieces as she called the anonymous woman all the names she could think of. She had been with Christien long enough to know that no matter what she did now, nothing would lure him back to her bed. Once he made up his mind, once he lost his interest – that was it.

But even so, she wasn’t going to go away just like that, and once she was finished with the billionaire, he would never be able to forget her.