Page 27 of Misconducts & Temptation

He laughed, a harsh sound that grated on my nerves. "You know," he said, his tone mocking, "maybe if I knew you were interested in actually being married, I might have considered giving you a choice. But you're not and I don't. You will marry Lola. That's what's best for this family."

"Family?" I growled, feeling the anger boil over. "You think we're a family? Since Mom died?—"

"Keaton," he warned, his voice dropping an octave.

I took a drag from my cigarette; the smoke filling my lungs before I exhaled slowly. "Speaking of which," I continued, ignoring his warning, "you never stepped out on Ma. And everyone knows you loved her."

"And you think you'll find that?" he asked, eyes narrowing. "Keaton, have you loved anyone other than yourself?"

I clenched my jaw, biting back the retort that threatened to spill out. Instead, I forced myself to stay calm. "Maybe I have high expectations," I said, each word deliberate.

"Maybe no one could ever love you," he shot back with venom. "You're going to marry Lola. She's the best you'll ever do, and deep down, you know it."

The words hit harder than any physical blow could have. The familiar ache in my chest intensified, and for a moment, I couldn't breathe. He'd always known exactly where to strike to cause the most pain.

But instead of letting him see how much it hurt, I steeled myself and met his gaze head-on. The battle lines were drawn long ago; this was just another skirmish in a war that had been waging for years.

I crushed the cigarette in the ashtray with more force than necessary; the embers dying under my thumb. The air between us crackled with unresolved tension and unspoken words.

His expression didn't change—cold and unyielding as ever—but something flickered in his eyes for just a second. Maybe regret? Doubt? It vanished too quickly to be sure.

The silence stretched on until it was almost unbearable.

Then he turned on his heel and left without another word, leaving me alone in the dimly lit room with nothing but my anger and frustration for company.

I sat there for what felt like an eternity, trying to piece together some semblance of a plan that would free me from this suffocating life my father had laid out for me.

And through it all, one thought remained clear: there had to be another way.

And I was going to find it.

I needed to find her. The mystery girl.

She had actually considered my proposal. Part of me was curious as to why she was so willing, what she was wrapped in that she would consider marrying me.

But right now, I didn't give a shit.

I pulled out my phone and fired off a text to Derek, a hacker who knew how to find things. Nothing with him was ever concrete, but maybe…

My eyes fell on the mask she had left behind. It lay on my nightstand. I picked it up, running my fingers over the delicate filigree.

The mask was an intricate piece of work, its surface adorned with swirling patterns of black and gold. Tiny gemstones were embedded within the design, catching the light and glinting like stars in the night sky. The eye holes were rimmed with black lace, adding an air of mystery and allure. It was fragile yet captivating, much like the girl who had worn it.

Holding it made something stir inside me—an unfamiliar feeling that tugged at my chest. This mask was my only clue to finding her again.

The vibration of my phone snapped me back to reality. Derek had replied.

Need more info.

I snapped a photo of the mask and sent it to him.

Find her.

Get me a picture of her.

Fuck, how was I supposed to find her with just —

I cut off the thought and grabbed my phone, dialing The Ritz. The concierge answered with an air of practiced politeness.

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