Landon is a tall man, at least six-foot-four, with a lean, muscled body and a perfectly straight posture. To make things worse, those superior physical traits are topped by his natural charisma.
He carries himself with frightening assurance and a blinding ego. He’s frustratingly confident, antagonistic to the point of bagging enemies everywhere he goes, and has an arrogance that could bring Narcissus to tears.
But there’s another side of him I’m currently discovering.
He's…frightening.
And I don’t mean in the way some wannabes try to look scary. He doesn’t puff his chest out or raise his voice. He doesn’t try to be terrifying by modifying anything in his demeanor.
All he has to do is let his true colors show through. The long fingers of his free hand wrap around his mask and he casually lifts it.
The moment I see the entirety of his face, my theory becomes fact. All Landon had to do was remove the mask so the real him could shine through.
His face is logically gorgeous, model-like in its symmetry. He has a high, straight nose, defined cheekbones, and a jaw so sharp, it could cut through stone.
Illogically, however, he didn’t reveal his face to charm me into anything. It’s a weapon he’s using with the purpose of pure intimidation.
He willingly revealed his identity so that it’s clear who has the upper hand here—him, the leader of the Elites and the host of the event at which I’m a mere invitee.
“Let’s try again. Who are you and what are you doing in the men’s room?”
My gaze meets his. Unwavering. Unblinking.
No fear, and certainly no change in demeanor, just because his face—that he doesn’t deserve, I might add—is in view.
“You refuse to speak, is that it?”
I nod once.
“I see,” he muses and eases his grip on my arm.
Is he letting me go?
I cast him a doubtful glance, but there doesn’t seem to be any malicious intent in his eyes.
They’re neutral. Amicable, even.
My heartbeat slowly returns to normal despite my alerted state.
Then, all of a sudden, something happens.
It’s so fast and fleeting, I would’ve missed it if I’d believed in the fake safety he offered and dropped my guard.
In a heartbeat, he reaches for my mask, openhanded, as if he’s about to suffocate me.
I don’t think as I push his palm at the last second and it ends up on my breast.
My chest heaves and the weight of his hand on my breast makes it worse.
Instead of backing off, a smirk tugs on the corner of his lips and he squeezes the flesh over my dress. “So this whole charade was an invitation? You girls sure come up with the most creative ways to get my attention. Are you up for it here, where anyone can walk in and see you getting fucked senseless like a dirty, dirty girl?”
For a moment, I’m stunned into silence. Partly because no one’s talked to me like that in the past.
No one’s dared to.
I’m Mia Sokolov. The daughter of Kyle Hunter and Rai Sokolov. If anyone ever dared touch me and say those words to me, I would punch them to another planet. My parents would find them and have their balls for breakfast.
Don’t even get me started on my brother. He’d resurrect them and slaughter them all over again.
In my stupefaction, his hand slides down my hip and over my ass cheek before he squeezes it and slams me against his front.
A wordless gasp falls from my lips as my stomach rubs against his semi-hard erection.
My temperature rises with pure fucking rage.
How dare he…? How fucking…
I don’t think about it as I try to lift my knee and kick him in the balls.
Before I can do that, however, he tightens his grip on my ass, giving me no wiggle room whatsoever.
“Easy there, mouse. While I’m rather open to wrestling, I’m not sure you can take me on.”
I’m going to take you to meet your fucking maker, asshole.
I attempt to slip sideways, but it’s impossible to get rid of his fingers that are digging into my ass.
“You’re a silent little thing.” He grabs my other ass cheek with the hand he’s holding his mask in. “You did your research, didn’t you? I love them mute.”
That’s it.
I rein in my temper and let my body relax in his hold, willingly turning molten in his arms.
Then I lift a hand and stroke my index finger down his cheek to his jaw, slowly, flirtatiously.
His smirk widens and he doesn’t seem to mind the touch.
That’s it, psycho. Let your dick lead you like every other idiot.
I pull on his bottom lip, trying my best not to focus on the way he’s taking the liberty of grabbing me.
He thinks I’m seducing him, but I’m just erasing that damn smirk so he’ll stop looking like Lucifer’s lost heir.
He strokes my ass and I resist the tingles that explode down my spine. I get on my tiptoes so that my mask-covered face is a few inches from his and then I punch him.
In the nose.
As hard as I can.
Damn. That hurts!
The motion is sudden enough that he freezes.
I use the surprise element to push against him, release myself, and run out the door.
Despite being disoriented and hot from the bastard’s touch, I don’t stop to look behind me. Not even for a second.
In fact, I run as fast as I can in case he’s following me.
Even though I don’t detect any steps, I don’t let my guard down and keep running until I reach the control panel.
My heart nearly jumps from my throat, but I breathe deeply and push the button. I have no doubt that Maya succeeded.
Just as I expected, the timer goes on.
I go back through the garden—my plan B. There’s no way in hell I’m returning to that bathroom, where Landon can ambush me again.
Note to self: Never be alone with the bastard.
He’s a damn pervert, and a persistent one at that.
It takes me longer to return to the main hall, but I arrive at the back of the partygoers just in time.
After I join Maya, she signs, “What the hell took you so long? I was getting worried.”
“A small complication, but don’t worry, it was absolutely nothing.”
I don’t believe my words, even as I sign them.
That definitely wasn’t nothing. It was everything but nothing. My body still tingles with both frustration and rage.
“What do you mean there was a complication?” Maya hisses under her breath. “What happened?”
I place a finger to my mouth when none other than Landon walks to the stage and taps his glass of champagne with a spoon.
Just in time.
He’s wearing his mask, but it doesn’t matter. After our encounter just now, I’ve developed the useless power to recognize the asshole from a mile away.
“Thank you for coming to our party,” he starts in his suave, elegant voice that could be mistaken for a politician’s.
That gorgeous British accent is lost on him. Just saying.
“We’re delighted to open the Elites’ doors for the people we consider VIPs. Tonight, we’re going to have a personal meet and greet with yours truly, the man and the legend, Landon King.”
Barf.
“He sounds and looks edible,” Maya signs. “Too bad he’s a dick.”