Alexis never liked the city much.
It smelled of ambition and exhaustion, like spilled wine on polished marble. But she came anyway every now and then because Ivy was hard to say no to.
Her best friend since middle school, Ivy was the type of girl who bought perfume she couldn't pronounce and had two phones, one of which she never answered. Alexis, on the other hand, was quieter. She read the ingredients on cereal boxes and once cried watching a dog food commercial.
Still, they fit together. Somehow.
Ivy's penthouse always felt like someone else's dream velvet throw pillows, gold accents, a wine fridge that buzzed like a secret. But she never made Alexis feel small. Never pried. Never asked too many questions about the past Alexis never talked about.
And tonight, Ivy had a favor to ask.
"It's just a ball," Ivy said, twirling a mask between her fingers. "A stupid, overpriced, glitter-in-your-bra kind of thing. But I need a plus-one. Everyone's coming with someone and I don't want to be the only one drinking champagne alone like a tragic heiress."
"Ivy... I don't even own a dress that doesn't have sleeves," Alexis muttered, curled on the couch like a skeptical cat.
"Good thing I own twenty."
The invitation was black with embossed gold lettering and some kind of ancient wax seal. Very Eyes Wide Shut, Alexis thought. Very rich people pretending they're not bored.
She said yes. Eventually. Out of loyalty, out of curiosity, or maybe because she had nowhere else to be.
She didn't know the night would change everything.
That behind one of those masks would be eyes darker than the ballroom, older than the chandeliers, colder than the champagne and they'd be looking only at her.
The ballroom was soaked in candlelight, the kind that flickered like it had secrets to keep.
People moved like poetry, gowns swaying, laughter layered over string music, faces hidden behind silk and feathers. It was beautiful. And artificial. Like a dream someone else had stitched together.
Alexis stood near the back, feeling more like an antique than a guest. Her dress, a deep crimson Ivy had insisted on, clung to her curves in a way that made her uncomfortable. The velvet mask across her face itched slightly, but it gave her an excuse to avoid eye contact.
She shouldn't be here.
Not with her ginger hair flaming like a flare in this sea of curated elegance. Not with her awkward posture and thrifted heels and the dull ache of not belonging pressing behind her ribs. But Ivy was somewhere near the front, charming a group of men in suits like champagne had always tasted familiar.
Alexis stayed still. Watching.
Until she felt it.
That pull.
She turned her head before she realized she was doing it.
Across the room, past the golden tables and the orchestra's hum, someone stood still. Like he wasn't part of the party at all. Like the room moved around him, not the other way around.
His mask was black, simple, sharp and his gaze was the kind that didn't look at you but through you. Like he knew something you didn't, and maybe never would.
He didn't smile.
He didn't look away.
Alexis blinked. Once.
Still, he watched.
And something inside her, the cautious, quiet part didn't flinch. Didn't run.
It leaned in.
He was walking toward her.
Not hurried. Not hesitant. Just sure.
People parted for him like he carried gravity, like some part of them knew better than to get in his way. Alexis didn't move. She wasn't sure she could.
He stopped a few feet from her, gaze dragging over her like a touch. Not inappropriate. Just... deliberate.
"Not dancing?" he asked, voice smooth and low, with the kind of accent that didn't belong to any one place. It was the kind of voice made for secrets in dark corners.
She tilted her head slightly, curious. "Not hiding either."
He smiled at that, small and sharp. "You don't like crowds."
"Not particularly."
His eyes flicked to her hair, the red strands glinting under the chandelier light like threads of fire. "That's obvious."
She raised a brow. "Is that your idea of flirting?"
"No," he said. "It's my idea of noticing."
That made her laugh quietly, the sound more breath than voice. "Well, your noticing is very... direct."
"You'd prefer subtle?"
"I'd prefer a drink."
He didn't blink. "Come."
It wasn't a question.
He didn't take her hand, didn't offer his arm like most men at these kinds of parties probably would. He just turned, knowing she'd follow.
And she did.
Even though she didn't know his name.
Even though her heart was doing that stupid thing it did when adrenaline and curiosity tangled into something warm.
They stopped at a smaller room just off the main hall, low lighting, velvet couches, no one else inside.
He poured the drink himself. No bartender. No pretense. Just crystal, deep red wine, and the sound of silence folding around them.
"I don't normally do this," she said, even though she wasn't entirely sure what this was yet.
He handed her the glass. "I know."
Alexis narrowed her eyes. "Do you now?"
His gaze was unreadable. "Yes."
There it was again. That strange, quiet certainty in everything he said. Like he'd already heard this conversation in a dream and now was just watching it play out.
She sipped. Her lips stained the rim.
He watched her mouth.
She noticed.
The silence stretched, warm and waiting.
Then he stepped a little closer. Not enough to crowd her. Just enough for her to feel the heat beneath his cold elegance.
"You shouldn't be here," he said softly.
"Why?" she whispered back, not blinking.
"Because someone like me notices."
"And someone like me," she murmured, stepping into his space now, "doesn't care."