Page 17 of Misconducts & Temptation

I needed to get away from her before I made a bigger scene. I flicked the ash from my cigarette and turned on my heel, pushing through the crowd of glittering guests and their empty conversations. The ballroom felt suffocating, every chandelier and fake smile closing in on me.

I pushed through the heavy oak door and stepped into what appeared to be a study. The dim lighting cast a warm glow over the rich mahogany bookshelves and leather-bound tomes. For a moment, I wondered if even The Ritz had rooms like this. The soft clinking of silverware drew my attention, followed by a muffled moan—one drenched in pleasure.

I turned and saw her: a petite blonde girl, but she wasn’t wrapped in some lover's embrace. She was eating. Devouring, actually. Her lips closed around a delicate pastry, her eyes shut tight in what looked like ecstasy.

"What I wouldn't give to be the one making you make those noises, babes," I said, my voice low and gravelly.

She choked, nearly dropping the pastry. Her head snapped up, and our eyes locked. There was something familiar about her, though I couldn't place it.

She had wide, green eyes framed by thick lashes that fluttered as she caught her breath. Her skin glowed under the soft light, hinting at days spent outdoors despite the rigid life of Crestwood Academy students. Her blonde hair was in a simple bun, and a few stray crumbs clung to the corner of her mouth. Her attire—a simple dress that clung to her curves—suggested she didn’t belong at an event like this.

But fuck, she looked better than everyone else here.

"Excuse me?" she stammered, her voice shaky but defiant.

I stepped closer, curiosity piqued by her reaction. "You're not supposed to be here," I said.

Her cheeks flushed with embarrassment or anger—I couldn't tell which. She quickly wiped her mouth with the back of her hand and squared her shoulders.

"And you are?" she shot back.

A smirk tugged at my lips. This girl had fire. "Keaton Douglas," I said as if that explained everything.

Recognition flashed across her face, but it wasn't admiration or fear—more like annoyance.

"I know who you are," she replied, lifting her chin slightly. "And you're right; I'm not supposed to be here."

"So why are you?" I asked, intrigued by this unexpected encounter.

"Because I was hungry and wanted to be alone," she replied, her voice steady despite the situation.

I wished she wasn't wearing that mask. It covered half her face, leaving me guessing what she looked like beneath it.

"So, you're here alone?" I asked, my curiosity getting the better of me.

She lifted her chin, trying to appear intimidating, but with the crumbs still clinging to her lips, it only made her look more endearing. "What of it?"

I chuckled. This girl had guts.

"Shouldn't you be with your fiancée?" she asked, arching an eyebrow. "Isn't that why this party is even going on?"

I gave her a long look, my hands shoved deep into my pockets. I shrugged, letting out a sigh. "I'd much rather be with you."

"You don't even know me," she pointed out, narrowing her eyes.

"True," I admitted. "But I know her."

She paused, tilting her head to the side, elongating her neck in a way that made me want to take a bite out of it.

"You... don't want to marry her?" she asked, genuine curiosity in her voice.

"Fuck no," I said without hesitation.

She wrinkled her nose, probably at my crassness.

"But... why would you marry her then?" she asked, her green eyes narrowing in curiosity. "You don't love her?"

I scoffed. "Love? That's a fairy tale for people who still believe in happy endings. Marriages like mine are about power and control, not some bullshit idea of love." Her shocked expression made me laugh. "What is it? Don't tell me you believe in that shit, babes."

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