Page 55 of Untether

That’s definitely Cal’s smile.

Shit.

He stops in front of me and looks me up and down, openly appraising my body.

‘Well, you look good enough to eat,’ he drawls.

I swallow.Get your shit together, Aida.‘I thought you said you were wearing a Phantom mask,’ is what I come out with.

‘Changed my mind.’

No shit.

‘Mmm-hmm. I see you’ve gone for terrorist chic instead.’

He grins broadly, and it’s disarming to see his gorgeous smile and crinkling brown eyes under a mask I associate with hardened criminals. ‘I’m not planning on terrorising you tonight. Unless you want me to. Your tits look amazing. That dress is fucking stunning.’

‘I—thank you.’

‘I like your mask. Glad you’ve left your mouth free.’ He dips his head and kisses my jaw, his warm skin brushing mine as the cheap, nasty fabric of the balaclava scratches me lightly in a way that should be fucking creepy and instead, it seems, is quite the opposite. It sends delicious danger signals scattering over my skin in the guise of goosebumps.

It sends equally delicious visuals stampeding through my brain.

Cal in that thuggish mask, pushing me to my knees.

Cal, shoving the sumptuous crimson silk of my two-thousand-pound dress around my waist as he forces my legs apart and eats me through that hole.

Fuckinghell.

I tilt my head, affording him more access. ‘Looks likeyou’ve kept your mouth free, too,’ I tell him as he kisses down my neck.

‘Certainly have.’ He nips lightly. ‘Want a drink before we go through?’

Definitely.

Ineeda drink before we go through.

35

CAL

I’m not sure what the fuck I think I’m playing at, wearing this mask when I’m supposed to be maintaining very clear boundaries around Aida tonight.

Those boundaries are, in a nutshell, not to behave like a fucking animal.

I had the Phantom mask all ready to go. It’s a winner—the previous times I’ve worn it to this event, women have gone feral for it. I suppose the Phantom was a dirty, repressed bastard with a kidnapping kink, so I get it.

But yesterday, on a whim, I Amazon Primed a shitty ten quid polyester balaclava, and when I tried it on this evening, it feltright. I can’t say why. It felt... freeing. I’m not sure that’s a good thing when I’m supposed to be on my best behaviour, but when I saw Aida clock me, I knew it was the right call.

‘Did you recognise me?’ I asked her as I drew her over to the bar to get her a sharpener.

‘Not immediately, no,’ she admitted. Just as I suspected. I, of course, recognised her at once. The gorgeous red dress that showed off her curves. The killer legs. Strappy heels.That fucking mouth.She looked expensive and classy and fuckable as hell. But her expression didn’t change behind that intricate, red-feathered mask until I approached her, and I knew she was ogling my sexy Organised Crime persona and not Cal.

I still have major misgivings about her coming along to this fuck-fest, but I’ll admit the masked dress code is great for her. She doesn’t have to worry about everyone recognising her. When we go through, she’ll realise how liberating it is to hide behind a mask. How refreshing.

‘You ready?’ I whisper in her ear. We’ve finished our first drink and caught up with Gen and Anton, who look like they’ve just stepped off a fucking gondola or escaped from a Ferrero Rocher ad. Both are groomed and glossy and dripping in designer threads with proper old-school Venetian masks on that Anton probably had flown over from a Venetian artisan on his jet.

There’s no sign of the others yet, but I like it that way. I want tonight to feel anonymous for Aida when we head next door. Having the place thronged with my mates won’t help.

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