"I know I look strikingly handsome, but looking at me like that, little doll… you could drool," Sebastian smirked as he placed the mask over her face. Her parted lips brushed warm breath against his skin.
She yanked the mask from his hands and moved away from him.
"Pervert," he heard her mutter under her breath. He smiled to himself, pleased, he had done it on purpose. It took a lot of self-control not to bury his lips on hers right then and there. She'd have hated him more, not that he cared—but he wasn't going to lose her before binding with her.
There was plenty of time for that, he thought.
He walked her out of the dressing room, silently watching as she thanked and greeted the staff goodbye. She slowed down at the sight in front of her as they stepped outside. He had instructed Zyren to bring the limousine. She looked back at him, her gaze not as harsh as when they arrived. She shook her head with a sort of surrender that vanished the moment he smiled.
Sebastian rarely attended events like this. He seldom showed his face to the Talibod. But tonight was different. The new project he was taking on required some socializing. He needed to act… human. Just like Darven advised—humans love fancy things, and tonight, he came prepared.
On their way to the ball, he pulled out a small box from his jacket. Neoma sat staring out the window, lost in thought as she watched the city lights blur past.
"Little doll," he said, smiling when she turned in response. He loved how the pet name rolled off his tongue.
"What is it this time?" she asked, sounding tired.
He handed her the box. She opened it to reveal a silver ring inlaid with diamond crystals.
"Seems you have a thing for diamonds," she said, trying to sound casual. But her eyes betrayed her—lingering a moment too long before she slipped the ring onto her finger.
"You're quite responsible… more than I thought." he said when she used the ring without asking questions like what it was meant for.
"And that's supposed to be a compliment, sir?"
"It'll do you good to stop addressing me formally," he murmured, leaning closer to whisper in her ear.
They arrived at the ball. Everyone wore masks. The grand hall buzzed with conversation, laughter, and music, while servers weaved through the crowd balancing trays of wine. As they entered arm-in-arm, Neoma grabbed a glass of wine and downed it in one go, completely ignoring Sebastian, before they made their way into a private lounge. The atmosphere shifted here—more refined, filled with high-class elites in elegant masks.
Sebastian told her to wait in the lounge while he handled business. He stepped into a luxurious, dimly lit private room. A long glass table sat in the center, surrounded by influential-looking men in tuxedos. Everyone wore masks, but the moment Sebastian entered, the room quieted, his presence commanding attention.
He took a seat, voice calm and composed.
"Gentlemen. I trust the evening is treating you all well."
"Better now that you've arrived, Mr. Vaelrath. We've been eager to hear more about this ambitious development of yours," said Mr. Colson, a sharp-eyed venture capitalist.
"It's not just a development, it's the future. VRHaven Estate will redefine elite living in the upper quadrants of the city. I want it to be a sanctuary —safe, seamless, and self-sustaining."
"You're proposing a smart-city model inside a gated estate? With the level of discretion and tech integration you mentioned earlier, the numbers would be massive," said Mr. Xavier, a luxury design consultant.
Sebastian smirked.
"Massive, yes. But manageable. Which is why I've been selective with the partners I invite to the table."
His human liaison, Mr. Wells—a suave business intermediary, spoke up.
"I've personally vetted a few new collaborators, Mr. Vaelrath. May I?"
Sebastian gestured. "Go ahead, Wells."
"This is Mr. Smith from EonTech Systems, they specialize in biometric surveillance and security integration. And Ms. Elsa Violet from ArcheLux Design, known for luxury eco-architecture."
Sebastian studied them both carefully, his eyes sharp but unreadable.
"Security and design foundational elements. Tell me, Ms. Elsa, what sets ArcheLux apart from the dozens of firms flooding the elite market?"
She straightened slightly, poised.
"We build with the psychology of power and privacy in mind. Our designs are intuitive homes that respond to their owners… and hide secrets without ever looking like they do."
He nodded slowly, amused.
"Hiding secrets. Now that's a selling point."
"Our systems ensure total surveillance without making residents feel observed. We don't just secure spaces, we read intent," Mr. Smith added with confidence.
Sebastian tilted his head slightly.
"Intent is… everything."
He let the silence stretch. The others shifted, some visibly unnerved by the weight of his words.
"I'll be awarding preliminary contracts tonight. Mr. Wells will send you encrypted access to the full portfolio. I want prototype models ready in two months. Those who meet the deadline with excellence… stay. The rest...well, you don't want to disappoint me."
"And the permits? The government approvals?" Mr. Colson asked.
Sebastian smiled faintly.
"Leave that to me. I have… influence where it matters."
The men nodded. No one dared ask how or with whom.
Sebastian rose from his chair.
"Enjoy the ball, gentlemen. I expect brilliance, not bureaucracy."
***********
He stepped into the lounge—empty.
Neoma was gone.
A flicker of irritation sparked in his chest. His eyes scanned the VIP section. No sign of her.
He moved fast, descending the staircase toward the ballroom. Music pulsed. People swirled and laughed in masked anonymity.
And then he saw her.
Spinning under the soft chandelier light, mask tilted just enough for him to recognize the curve of her jaw… her smile.
She was dancing...with another man.
Her hand rested on the stranger's chest. The man leaned in, whispering something that made her laugh , light, carefree, like she hadn't just been in his arms an hour ago.
Sebastian stilled.
The blood in his veins turned molten.
His eyes darkened, a dangerous gleam overtaking the silver. The demon inside him clawed toward the surface, ancient and possessive.
Mine.
His lips curled back in a silent snarl.
And then, he moved.