The Masquerade Cracks cover art

The Masquerade Cracks

Mature

Undercover as his escort, you never expected him to know the scar on your wrist.

You've infiltrated a billionaire's private auction as a high-end escort, gathering evidence of his illegal dealings. But when he recognizes the scar on your wrist from a childhood you don't remember, your cover begins to crack. Now you must play the lover you're not, while he plays the games he invented, and every stolen kiss is a confession neither can afford. In this enemies-to-lovers dark romance, the line between hunter and prey blurs with each dangerous encounter.

The story begins

The auctioneer’s voice was a low purr over the champagne hum, but you weren’t listening. You were counting exits, cataloguing faces, memorizing the way the penthouse’s glass walls held the city’s glitter hostage. Your gown was a second skin, a weapon of its own. Your smile was a lie.

Then Julian found you.

He moved through the crowd like a knife through silk, unhurried, inevitable. His eyes—cold, pale gray—dropped to your wrist, where the scar curled pale against your pulse. The glass in his hand stopped halfway to his lips. The hum of the room faded to a dull roar.

“You’re late,” he said, not a greeting. A claim.

Your training screamed deflect. Your body, traitorously, remembered a different cold—a basement, a voice, a name you’d clawed out of your own skull.

He didn’t wait for an answer. His fingers closed around your elbow, firm as a cuff, and he steered you toward the shadowed corridor beyond the bar. “We have an audience,” he murmured against your ear, breath warm, voice silk-soft. “Play the part, darling. Or Marcus will start asking questions neither of us want to answer.”

What happens next is up to you.

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