Mask

Where Devil Wears Crown

A shadow blocked my path.

And when I looked up, my heart skipped.

Because standing there, leaning casually against the sleek black limousine, was none other than Klaude River Croft.


He was taller than I remembered, sharper, his fitted black suit clung to him perfectly, his tie undone like he’d just walked away from ruining someone’s life and didn’t care. His presence was suffocating, the kind that bent the air around him until nothing else existed. His eyes found mine, and in that one look, I felt stripped down to my bones

“Anastasia,” he drawled, like my name tasted bitter on his tongue.

“Klaude.” I forced a polite smile, the kind Mother trained me to give. “What a.. surprise.”

His lips curved, but it wasn’t a smile. “Surprise? My father arranged this dinner. And you’re my fiancée.” His gaze swept over me, from my pristine white peplum dress to the heels that suddenly felt too high. “Should I be surprised you’re here too?”

I swallowed. “I was invited.”

“Of course, you were.”

He said nothing after that, just opened the limousine door with a mocking little bow, like he was daring me to walk past him.

The ride to the restaurant was suffocating. I sat as far from him as I could, staring out the tinted window while the city lights blurred past. But I could feel him watching me, not like a man looking at his bride, but like a predator studying prey. His silence was worse than words, heavy with accusations he hadn’t spoken yet.

By the time we arrived at the Croft family’s private dining hall, my nerves were frayed.

“Anastasia, darling!” Mother’s voice rang out the moment we entered. She was seated next to Mr. Croft at the long mahogany table, their wine glasses already half-empty. “You’re late.”

“I came as soon as I could,” I said softly, taking my seat across from Klaude.

The room smelled of expensive wine and roasted duck. Crystal chandeliers bathed everything in golden light, but all I could feel was the chill rolling off the man in front of me.

“Anastasia,” Mr. Croft said warmly, “you look stunning tonight. Doesn’t she, Klaude?

Klaude tilted his head, his lips twitching like he was suppressing a smirk. “She does.”

I wished he hadn’t said it. His voice dripped with something that wasn’t a compliment, it was a weapon.

“Princess,” Mother said, dabbing her lips with a napkin, “have you and Klaude spoken much? You two should get to know each other. You’ll be spending a lifetime together.”

A lifetime. The words clanged in my head like a death sentence.

“Oh, we’ve spoken,” Klaude said, his tone so smooth my mother beamed, but his eyes never left mine. And what I saw there wasn’t warmth. It was a warning.

Dinner was served, but I barely tasted a thing. Every polite question from Mother, every boastful story from Mr. Croft, every scraping of silverware felt distant, drowned out by the unspoken words hanging in the air between me and Klaude.

When the second course came, Klaude leaned back, his arm resting casually against the chair. To anyone else, he looked relaxed, even charming. But I saw the tension in his jaw, the way his gaze sharpened every time I lifted my glass or answered a question. He was dissecting me in silence.

“So tell me, Anastasia,” Mr. Croft asked between sips of wine, “how are the wedding preparations going? Your mother tells me everything is progressing smoothly.


“Yes,” I murmured, my hands tightening around my napkin. “The arrangements are… under control.”

Klaude’s voice cut in, smooth and deliberate. “Under control. That’s one way to put it.”

The table chuckled politely, but my pulse spiked. He was baiting me, and I couldn’t rise to it, not here, not in front of them.

By dessert, my composure felt like a mask about to crack. The chocolate soufflé on my plate went untouched. Klaude leaned closer, his voice so low only I could hear.

“Tell me, Anastasia,” he murmured, his breath brushing my ear, “do you always play the innocent… or is that just part of the game?”

My hand froze around my fork.

I turned my head slowly, meeting his eyes. “Excuse me?”

“The perfect daughter. The obedient angel.” He stopped in front of me, so close I could smell his cologne, dark, expensive, intoxicating. “But tell me, Anastasia…” His eyes narrowed, scanning my face like he was peeling away layers.

“Are you really as innocent as they say?

My lips parted, but nothing came out.


His smirk was cruel, knowing. “That’s what I thought.”

He brushed past me, his hand grazing my arm just enough to make my skin burn.

“Welcome to hell, fiancée,” Klaude murmured before leaving me standing there, frozen.

The devil didn’t need horns or fire.

He wore a crown.

And his name was Klaude Croft.