Page 16 of Misconducts & Temptation

I could feel eyes on me as I moved through the crowd, but I kept my focus straight ahead. This was my night—no matter what happened next.

And with that thought firmly in mind, I stepped into the ballroom. The room glittered with opulence. Crystal chandeliers dangled from the high ceilings, casting a warm golden glow over everything. The walls were lined with mirrors and ornate gold moldings, reflecting the light and making the room appear endless.

The scent of fresh roses mingled with the rich aroma of expensive colognes and perfumes, creating a heady mix that made my head spin. Waiters moved through the crowd with silver trays, offering delicate hors d'oeuvres and flutes of champagne. The sound of laughter and conversation blended with the soft strains of a live string quartet playing in one corner.

I wasn't sure where to begin. Should I grab a drink? Sample the food? Dance? The possibilities swirled around me, each more enticing than the last.

As I stood there, trying to decide, I caught the tail end of a speech coming from a raised platform at the far end of the room. The speaker was an older man with graying hair and a distinguished air—Stephan Douglas, the host of tonight's event.

“... and so, let us all raise our glasses to new beginnings and cherished memories,” Stephan concluded, his voice carrying over the murmurs of the crowd. Polite applause followed as guests lifted their glasses in a toast.

My eyes drifted to a young man standing beside Stephan, wearing an eye-catching black-and-white striped suit that reminded me instantly of some ridiculous Halloween costume. His hair was slicked back, giving him a slightly wild look despite his formal attire. He had a smirk on his face as he scanned the room, exuding an air of arrogance and confidence that made him stand out even more, though there seemed to be an edge to it, almost like he was frustrated he was here in the first place.

And he was smoking.

But it was the woman next to him who truly captivated me. She was stunning—tall and statuesque with long, flowing black hair that framed her pale face perfectly. Her dress clung to her curves in all the right places, an elegant black gown that seemed almost alive as it moved with her every gesture. She exuded an aura of dark elegance that reminded me of some dark ballerina.

I couldn't tear my eyes away from them. They looked like they had stepped out of some gothic fairytale, both beautiful and slightly menacing in their own way.

This must be Stephan’s son and his fiancée.

The thought made my heart race even faster. Here I was, an outsider sneaking into this world of wealth and privilege—and yet, for this one night, I was determined to be part of it all.

My stomach growled, reminding me I hadn’t eaten since lunch. The long table near the wall caught my eye, laden with an array of delicacies. I moved towards it, hoping to blend in and keep my nerves at bay.

I picked up a small plate and began piling it with an assortment of hors d'oeuvres—tiny sandwiches, cheese, and fruit. As I reached for a delicate pastry, familiar voices floated through the air, freezing me in place.

Annabelle and Stephanie.

My heart skipped a beat as I turned to see them gliding closer to the buffet table. They were dressed to perfection, their gowns shimmering under the lights. Panic surged through me; I couldn't let them recognize me.

Gripping my plate tightly, I ducked away from the table and slipped through an open door into a smaller, dimly lit room. It appeared to be some sort of library or study, lined with bookshelves and furnished with plush chairs. The sound of the party dulled to a low hum behind me.

I sank into one of the chairs and took a deep breath, trying to calm my racing heart. As I started to eat, the flavors exploded on my tongue—rich and decadent in a way I’d never experienced before. A soft moan escaped my lips before I could stop it.

"What I wouldn't give to be the one making you make those noises, babes," a gravelly voice said behind me.

I stiffened instantly, every muscle in my body going rigid. Slowly, I turned around to see who had spoken.

Chapter 6

Keaton

The second my father's speech ended, I was ready to find some girls and get the hell out.

"Dance with me?" Lola asked, her nails sinking into my suit like claws.

"Absolutely the fuck not," I said, lighting another cigarette. "Don't fucking touch me."

She scowled. "In public, Keaton? Really?" she hissed, keeping her voice low.

People had gone back to eating and dancing, barely noticing the tension radiating between us.

"I don't give a flying fuck," I responded before taking a drag.

Lola's eyes narrowed to slits. She leaned in closer, her voice dripping with venom. "You're making a scene."

"Good," I muttered, blowing smoke in her direction.

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