Page 30 of Rhythm and Rapture

"You asked if I'd rather be molecularly bonded to sodium or chlorine," I laugh. "Still not sure that was scientifically sound."

"Made you smile though," Roman points out. "That's all that mattered."

I pick up the shoes—five-inch red stilettos with small spikes. Finally, the mask, settling it perfectly over my features.

"Close your eyes," I call out.

"What?" Ash asks.

"The full reveal should be on camera. Close your eyes."

I hear them comply, and I step out from behind the curtain.

"Okay," I breathe.

They open their eyes in unison, and the impact of their collective gaze nearly knocks me off my precarious heels.

"Fuck," Ash whispers.

"You're going to destroy us," Felix says matter-of-factly.

Roman just looks at me like I'm something he wants to memorize.

"One more thing," I say, approaching each of them with deliberate slowness. The click of my heels against the polished floor echoes in the suddenly quiet studio. "For anonymity and brand consistency."

I stop in front of Roman first. He's watching me with those intense eyes, visible even through the eyeholes of the mask I'm about to give him. When I hold it out, he takes it slowly, and our fingers brush during the exchange. The contact sends electricity racing up my arm—not metaphorical, but actual measurablebioelectrical response. I make a mental note to mention it during the scene.

"Thank you," he says quietly, his voice carrying weight that makes my skin prickle with awareness.

Ash practically vibrates with excitement when I approach him next. He takes his mask with both hands, immediately holding it up to examine the rhinestone pattern like it's a piece of art—which, in a way, it is. These masks cost more than most people's rent, hand-crafted by the same artisan who makes accessories for high-end fashion shows.

"This is fucking gorgeous," he breathes, running his fingers over the crystals. "Like stars against midnight. Or music notes on a black score. Or?—"

"Ash," Felix interrupts gently, "let her finish."

Felix takes his mask with characteristic thoughtfulness, turning it over in his hands to study the craftsmanship. He notices details the others missed—the hand-stitched edges, the way the elastic is concealed within the satin binding, the precise placement of each rhinestone to create maximum light refraction.

"The theme requires uniformity," I explain as they put them on, my voice taking on a teaching tone. "Visual cohesion creates a psychological connection in the viewer's mind. When we all wear masks, we become archetypes rather than individuals—representations of desire rather than specific people."

But even as I speak in clinical terms, something else is happening. Seeing them in masks that mirror mine creates an intimacy I hadn't anticipated. We're all hidden now, all protected by the same anonymity that's allowed me to be brave enough for this moment. The masks don't conceal—they reveal, stripping away everything except what we're here to create together.

Roman adjusts his mask, and suddenly he's not just an attractive musician anymore. He's dangerous, mysterious, the kind of figure who appears in fever dreams and leaves you aching for something you can't name.

Ash's natural energy transforms into something more focused through the mask's frame, his constant movement now seeming deliberately hypnotic rather than simply restless.

Felix becomes even more enigmatic, the mask highlighting the precision of his movements, the careful way he observes everything before acting.

"Now we match," I say unnecessarily.

"Now we're yours," Roman corrects, and the possession in his voice makes heat pool low in my stomach.

Chad appears in the doorway. "Ready when you are, folks. No pressure—this is your show. I'm just here to capture whatever happens."

I look at my three masked men, feeling the weight of what we're about to create. "Let's make something unforgettable."

We follow Chad to the main studio, and I'm struck by the professional setup. The lab table gleams under perfect lighting, equipped with actual scientific instruments mixed with props. Multiple cameras are positioned at strategic angles, and Monty's already checking his video equipment.

"Jesus," Monty mutters from behind his camera. "This is already hot and we haven't even started."

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