June 2015

Today is supposed to be fun, exciting even. It’s anything but. I’ve taken my time this evening. Preparing for something that I’ve been dreading most of my life. I’m now an adult. Ready to take on the world. Once tonight is over, I’ll be the person who my parents have taught, cared for in their own cold way, and nurtured to become the woman who’s meant to rule. To run what they believe to be an empire.

My parents have been planning this day from the moment I was born. The day my mother went into painful labor—which she loves to remind me about—is the day my fate was sealed in a neat little package. Paige Madden, daughter and heiress to more money than I can even think about.

Growing up in this world where I’ve had to put up with bodyguards and people following me around has become second nature. Every breath has been counted, each step has been guarded. I’m the pristine princess. And today I’m meant to be celebrating freedom. I’m eighteen, and my father has agreed to allow me to leave home. I’ve received my acceptance letter to college and I can’t wait to drive out of those tall, raven-colored gates with the gold trim and not look back.

“Paige, why aren’t you dressed?” I turn to find my mother dressed in a long, flowing scarlet dress. The sleeves hug her slim arms, and when she walks, it’s as if a million little stars twinkle in the material. But there’s nothing ethereal about her. When families have money like we do, there are always secrets. And the Madden household runs rife with them. Those that lurk in the murky corners. That can break apart a family, and bring down the name they hold so dear.

I glance down, taking in the mask she’s holding, which matches the red of her dress. Her long auburn hair is twisted into a tight bun on the back of her head. Severe. That’s how I’d describe her if anyone ever asked. Only, they’re too scared to ask, because if they did, they’d be shunned by the elite society we live amongst.

It’s obvious from looking at me that I’m my mother’s daughter—she’s an elegant, poised red-head and so am I—but that’s where the similarities end. “I’m just finishing up my make-up. I’ll be ready in a few minutes.” She huffs, tugging at the material of her dress that hugs her slim frame. My mother’s always been a waif. Since I can remember, she’s been one of those women who’d hide on a day when her hair wasn’t pinned in place. Never leaving the house if she didn’t have make-up on.

She’s hovering. There must be something on her mind because my mother doesn’t normally hover. Her cold demeanor is something I’ve become accustomed to. “What is it mother?” I question as I turn to regard her in the reflection of the mirror.

“Your father’s partner and his son will be coming tonight. Daddy would like to make a good impression. I’d like you to keep his eldest son entertained.” With an imploring gaze, her eyes meet mine, the same jade hue as my own.

I’ve always been expected to portray an air of elegance and maturity far beyond my eighteen years. In everyday life, and by attending parties that were better fit for adults rather than a child. Stuffy suits and expensive gowns. Sometimes I think I’ve had to grow up too fast. My childhood was filled with talk about mergers and acquisitions. About political climates and corporate contracts.

This however, will be the first time I’ll see the man my father has told me about. He decided to partner with Harlan by investing millions in a business that I’ve overheard him whispering about in his office. Something deep in my gut tells me that it’s not legal in the least bit.

Since I turned sixteen, Daddy has educated me, making sure I understood contracts and legal jargon that to me, meant nothing. It’s not where my passion lies. I’ve never wanted to be in the corporate world that is filled with rules and regulations.

Tonight, they’ve invited this man, along with his infamous eldest son to my birthday party. My mother hasn’t stopped rambling about how handsome his son is and how she’d like to see me with him. I, however, would like to make my own decisions when it comes to who is going to one day take the one precious thing I have held on to, my virginity.

“Yes, Mother. I will be as gracious as I can,” I retort with a bite in my tone, which has her nodding tersely. We normally get along, but when she forces me to do something, we tend to butt heads.

“I just want to make sure we leave a good impression on Mr. Wolfe. He’s a well-regarded man. It would be good for your father’s reelection for senator which is coming up and Harlan can help with the focus on your Dad.” My father is running for senator a third time in a row. So far, he’s served twelve years in office. I’m not sure why they’re so concerned though. Since he’s been partners with Harlan, there has only been one opposing delegate for my father.

He’s always been more of a businessman than a doting dad. I love him dearly, but deep down, I wish he’d show me the kind of love I’ve seen dad’s on TV offer their daughters. I suppose, being from a family like ours, I had to get used to having an absent father. All the girls at the private school I attend have the same problem I do. Work is always more important than family.

I don’t respond, merely nod at her request. “Thank you,” she says in her rigid tone, then pivots on her sparkly, silver heels and leaves me to get dressed. My mother expects me to entertain a man I have no inkling to talk to.

Taking in my appearance, I notice how the black corset I chose tonight hugs my curves. It’s beautiful, shiny and delicate. Slipping the black chiffon, floor-length dress from the hanger, I pull it on and as it cascades down my body, the sheer material feels heavenly against my smooth skin. It’s the color of night with a thin silver belt that wraps around under my breasts. I’ve opted for short sleeves because in this heat, I’ll never survive stifling clothes.

The heels I’ve chosen are a delicate silver sandal with just enough height to put me at a comfortable five foot eight. My waist-length red hair falls down my back in loose waves, and the mask I’m wearing is jet black with red gems placed intricately between my eyes and over each brow. It’s in the shape of a bird born of fire, the Phoenix.

Taking one last long look in the mirror, I head to the door and leave my bedroom. The door clicks closed behind me with an ominous sound. Something stirs deep in my gut, call it intuition, but I realize that something is going to change tonight. Something that’s going to alter the course of my life. I just don’t know what.

* * *

The living room is opulent. Dim lighting from the chandelier and candles give it an ethereal feel. Although, the room isn’t filled with angels tonight, it’s packed tight with devils. My father’s business associates haven’t always been above board, and I know more than he thinks I do.

Yes, I may only be eighteen, but I’ve grown up around this life, around the secrets that are hidden behind closed doors. I’ve overheard his meetings, phone calls. The small grate in my bedroom affords me a front row seat to conversations I’m sure he’d rather I not hear. When I’m away at school, I’m sure I miss a lot more. And that’s how I’ve still not come to meet Harlan Wolfe yet.

“Paige, come here, pumpkin.” My father’s deep rumble comes from behind me. It’s enough to give me shivers. As I near him, I notice the older man beside my father. His salt-and-pepper hair is thick and shiny. The mask that hides his face resembles a hawk—black with a silver streak of lightning across one eye. “This is my partner, Harlan, and his son, Samael.” I drag my gaze up to cobalt eyes that pierce me, as if they’re looking straight into my soul.

I can’t see his face because of the charcoal mask that covers it, but I can see his mouth curl into a smirk that’s dark and devilish. “A pleasure.” His voice is smooth like silk, but holds an edge to it. The tone has my stomach tumbling unwillingly with a flurry of butterflies.

“I’m sure the pleasure is mine,” I murmur as he lifts my hand to his lips. They’re soft and warm, causing a jolt of heat to race through every bone in my body, leaving me breathless.

“It will be,” he promises illicitly. “Care to dance?” I nod. Leaving our fathers in the wake of the strange yearning swirling between us, I step beside him until we reach the open area reserved for dancing. A slow tune starts, and I recognize Aaron Richards singing “My Hell,” and I wonder if it’s as ominous as I think. We weave around the floor. He leads, I follow. “There’s something intriguing about you, Red.” He gazes down at me curiously. A scorching gaze simmers below his mask.

His hand drops to my lower back as he pulls me along with him. Our bodies move in a fluid motion. “There is?” I question, cocking my head to the side as I regard him.

“Yes.” The one-word answer leaves us in silence for the rest of the dance, and as it comes to an end, he releases his hold on me and offers a curt bow.

“Thank you,” I murmur, responding with a curtsey. Everything in my life is formal with nothing out of place, and the respect I was taught to show others is blindingly clear as I turn to walk away.

The night goes on with many more introductions, and by the time I glance at the clock, it’s almost midnight. A moment alone allows me to take in the remaining guests. The party is still in full swing, everyone chattering about money, deals, and contracts, all the while drinking expensive champagne and eating the canapés my mother ordered.

Taking the opportunity to make my escape, I head out to the garden.

Our property is enormous, and the pristine grounds are immaculate. Stepping into the night, I take a calming breath. It’s quiet outside since everyone is more interested in what’s happening inside. “Should you be out here alone?” The thick, decadent tone of Samael startles me, and I spin, tripping on the step, but before I hit the ground his strong arms wrap around me.

His broad chest is flush with my breasts, causing my nipples to harden against the material of my corset. I might be a virgin, but I’m no stranger to lust and desire. “Thank you,” I breathe as he straightens me. Instead of releasing me from his grasp, he tugs me against him as if we’re dancing to the music that filters from the ballroom. His mouth is close to mine, but he can’t kiss me because of his mask. In that moment, I’m cursing the fact that we had to have a masquerade ball.

“I shouldn’t do this, but no one can stop me,” he growls, and the predator staring at me looks as if he’s about to devour me. He reaches up with one hand and pulls off his mask, giving me the full effect of Samael.

Tanned, masculine jaw with a light dusting of stubble. His straight pointed nose is elegant, almost classic. Those cobalt eyes—now matching the midnight sky—stare with hunger under thick eyebrows. Dark and brooding, he drinks me in. His full lips have me wetting my own. The butterflies from earlier awaken in my belly reminding me what it’s like to be this close to a man. My ex-boyfriend wasn’t anything like Samael, but I used to feel the excited tingle race through me in the beginning of our relationship.

My gaze drops to his lips, I want to taste them, to taste him.

Before I can ask what he wants to do, his mouth crashes down on mine. The longing tightens everything south of my belly button, attacking me with vengeance, just like this man is devouring me. His tongue licks my lips, each one fevered as he sucks them into his hot mouth. His pearl-white teeth graze them, biting down causing a soft whimper to fall from me each time.

A low growl rumbles through him, animalistic, feral, and powerful. Everything about him is dominating. As his hand grips the hair at my nape, positioning my face just right for him to lash me with his tongue, I open, allowing him into my body. He may not be taking my virginity, but he’s fucking me with everything he has.

Our tongues dart around each other, dancing, teasing, taunting. He presses me against the enormous cement pillar. His erection pushing into my thigh as he steals my breath along with my moans and whimpers.

My hands reach up, but before I can touch him, he grips both my wrists. Holding them at my sides, pressing them against the cold concrete. Without warning, I feel his teeth—razor sharp—bite down on my lower lip, while sucking it hard into his mouth. I feel the skin break. He laps at the crimson liquid that seeps from the cut and as much as it should have scared me, it doesn’t and my body is on fire for him.

Quickly, he steps back and releases me. Leaving me a frenzied mess, he spins on his heel, puts his mask back on, and saunters away.

I hear the words fall from his lips just before he’s out of earshot.

“Soon, Firebird.”