Page 1 of Undeniably Enemies

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I’m walking through the gates of heaven, and instead of God, I’m greeted by a half-naked Grim Reaper.

“Welcome to Heaven’s Hell,” he says with an oddly high-pitched, chipper voice that contradicts the nature of his costume. He’s wearing a white skeleton mask across the upper half of his face, a black cape, black leather chaps, and a scythe that looks scarily real. “May I have your name, please?”

Shifting the scythe into the crook of his arm, he pulls out a tablet, his black eyes on mine as he patiently and politely waits for my answer.

“Jack Kincaid.”

He types my name in and steps toward me with a warm smile. “Dr. Kincaid, welcome. And may I just take a moment to thank you?” He extends his hand to me, and I automatically shake it. “We’re all so grateful for what you did for Mr. Tom.”

I give him a nod because I’m not sure what else to say. You’re welcome doesn’t quite fit. I’m a doctor and simply did my job. Jarvis Tom is a big Hollywood producer, and when he showed up in my emergency department, he wasn’t in good shape after suffering an ischemic stroke. I administered tPA or tissueplasminogen activator, to dissolve the clot, and it ultimately saved his life. He was able to recover without long-term deficits.

As a thank you, he gave me a ticket to his Hollywood A-list Halloween party.

“We’re delighted you were able to attend,” he continues. “Are you alone this evening, or may I put a guest’s name on the list?”

“I’m alone.”

“Hopefully not for long.” He winks at me. “But you know this is a costume party, correct? One that revolves around a certain amount of anonymity. Masks are required.”

“I didn’t realize that.” I glance down at my all-black attire. At least I’m not in scrubs, though maybe that would have made for a better costume.

The invitation didn’t say costumes or masks, but then again, most of the people who were invited to this event probably already knew this. When I mentioned it to the nurse working with me today, she screamed—literally—and told me people sell their souls for an invitation.

Hence the name of the party and the costume of the man greeting me.

“Here.” He digs through a giant bag just behind him. “These will help.” He thrusts a packet of fake blood at me, along with a set of fake teeth still in the plastic and a large black mask. “We keep extras back here for such a situation. You’ll need those. Especially the mask. Speaking of…” He trails off as he returns to his tablet while I don the mask and teeth, foregoing the blood. “I see you’ve already signed the NDA, so please feel free to enjoy the evening’s festivities, though I should warn you that photography and video are not permitted.”

“That won’t be a problem,” I tell him, and he steps back to allow me through the pearly white gates of Heaven’s Hell.

“Don’t forget the blood. No vampire is complete without it.”

I throw my hand up in acknowledgment and reluctantlyopen the packet that squirts red gel everywhere. A few small dabs beneath my lip should suffice, but the teeth dig into my gums, and I already feel entirely out of place in this league far above me.

You’d think growing up in Boston and being best friends with the Fritzes—a famous family of billionaires—I’d be more comfortable with, or at least used to, this level of wealth, but I’m not. I never quite fit into this type of world, and this party is a glaring reminder of that.

Still, there was no way I could turn it down if for no other reason than the curiosity factor of it. And the fact that I could use something fun and different to drag me out of the misery and heartache I’ve been held down by for the last six months since I caught the woman I was planning to propose to screwing my boss. Two years of a relationship. Of living together and sharing everything. Gone. They’re in my old apartment, sleeping together in my old bed. Even the dog she and I got together is now his and not mine. On top of all that, I had to leave the hospital I loved.

So I need this. I need to rewrite my life because every good thing I’ve ever had—every dream—has been ripped away from me, and I’m just about at my breaking point with it all. But in this mask, I can be anyone. Anonymous, and hopefully not alone for long, as he said. I wouldn’t mind that. I’m here, aren’t I? Might as well take advantage.

Immediately past the white gates is a glowing red ring—hell, I presume—and after I step through, the sprawling manicured lawn and Olympic-sized sparkling pool with the twinkling lights of Los Angeles in the distance catch me off guard. The lawn and even the pool are filled with what are likely Hollywood elite, and I shake my head at just how over the top this is. Purple and white fairy lights are strung around every available surface, and servers wearing white angel or Grim Reaper costumes—like the guy who took my name—are holding traysof food and various premixed cocktails in extravagant glasses as a DJ spins music that pumps through a sound system.

“Shit,” I muse, squeezing the back of my neck.

I descend the grand staircase and head toward the pool area, the pale blue water illuminated and glowing like a beacon. I gaze from person to person as I tuck myself back along the periphery of the hardscape where it meets the grass while I try to decipher which celebrity they are. It’s nearly impossible. Everyone is wearing a mask and an elaborate costume.

A server dressed as a sexy angel comes over with a tray of drinks. “White cranberry cosmo?” she offers.

It’s some clear concoction in a girly glass with sparkly glitter floating on the top. Fuck it. I need some liquid courage to get me over the hump. Gratefully, I accept it and drink most of it down in one large gulp. Not bad, I guess. Especially on the second gulp. The empty gets set on a nearby table, and I grab a new drink from another tray. This one is bright red in a large heart-shaped glass, and I don’t question what it is. Especially as I snag some food from the next passing tray.

At this rate, I’ll drink and eat my way through the party and have to Uber home, but I don’t care.

“You must be new here,” a soft voice says behind me, and I turn to find myself staring at the most stunning Cinderella I’ve ever seen. Tall and thin, with slight curves pushed up and accentuated over the top of her blue satin gown. She has the most graceful neck and delicate bone structure. Coupled with her blazing blue eyes visible even through her white filigree mask and full red lips, I can hardly catch my breath. Her blonde hair is rolled into a tight bun on top of her head, but she has one stray wavy piece floating down her face and tickling her cheek. It makes me want to tuck it behind her ear.

“How can you tell that?” I throw back at her, finding myselftaking an inadvertent step in her direction. There’s something about her, something almost familiar, though I can’t quite place what it is.

Her red lips quirk up on one side into an amused smirk. “For one, your costume isn’t much of a costume. And for another, you’re casually holding ‘Til Death Do Us Part.”

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