Beneath the Mask

CHAPTER 3: THE MOVE-IN

Jennifer's point of view

As I went after Damien, my shoes tapping harshly on the cold marble floor, his words reverberated in the deserted corridor, "You'll get used to it." "The quiet. The room. The guidelines

All I could do was follow. Now there was no going back. They had struck a bargain. My life was no longer mine.

His penthouse was chilly, contemporary, and frighteningly quiet—exactly what I had anticipated. Sharp edges and no warmth, steel and glass everywhere. It was similar to browsing an art show that was meant to be seen but not touched. A towering stronghold of riches and power.

"Select a room," Damien stated in a tone that sounded almost commanding. As he arrived at the elevator, he continued to walk and used a simple finger flick to hit the button.

I looked around the rooms. Everywhere you looked were doors. Some were slightly open, while others were closed. I had the impression that this enormous building was engulfing me. I had nowhere to go, nowhere to be myself. Just doors and floors and walls that go on forever.

"This way," said Damien, gesturing to a door at the end of the corridor.

I trailed behind him, hardly noticing the slick furnishings or the stark, minimalistic accents that shouted "luxury" without really feeling like a home. There was nothing authentic about this place. Everything was simply... vacant.

He pushed a door open and said, "Your room."

I took over.

The space was enormous. More spacious than anything I had ever bought or occupied. The bed appeared to be a cloud, a massive, unbelievably soft object that seemed to sparkle in the low light thanks to its white sheets. With floor-to-ceiling windows, I had a breathtaking view of the city below, which was vibrant and glittering.

It wasn't a house, though, despite its size and beauty. It had the feel of a trap.

I tried to hide the uneasiness that was starting to crawl up my spine by saying, "Thanks."

Damien surveyed the space as if examining it. "Everything is flawless. You'll adjust to the scenery. He glanced toward the city. "It will eventually grow stale."

I remained silent. He was not mistaken. Even though the view was breathtaking, I didn't like the thought of being stranded here with him in this tower.

Instinctively, I moved to seal the tiny suitcase that was partially open beside the closet. A tiny piece of paper, however, slid out from between the clothing while I was doing it. I frowned as I looked at it. Damien's handwriting appeared on the note.

Never again enter the west hallway or the right-hand door. Never.

My pulse pounded in my chest as I gazed at the message. Why did he find this passageway so fascinating? Why did everything in this place seem so planned and controlled?

Before Damien saw, I shoved the note back inside my suitcase. He was occupied with checking something on his phone, so he didn't appear to care.

"Acclimate yourself. In an hour, I will return. He stepped toward the door and remarked, "We have dinner to attend." For a moment, he glanced over his shoulder. "Remember the guidelines." Remember them.

I gave him a nod, but he had already left, the door softly shutting behind him.

Still taking it all in, I perched on the side of the bed. When I signed the contract, I had no idea what would happen. Everything about this facility felt like a gilded prison, even though I had hoped for at least some freedom and room to breathe.

I exhaled deeply and started to pace the room. The quiet felt so oppressive, so dense. I pondered what the upcoming year might hold in this place. Am I allowed to act? Would this mask break if I wore it every day? And by rules, what did Damien mean? What more regulations would he impose on me?

I couldn't concentrate on that at the moment. I had to go to dinner.

The table was set with what appeared to be pricey crystal and silver, and the supper was conducted in a large, softly illuminated dining room. The visitors appeared to be from another planet, where looks were crucial and nothing was ever as it seemed. They were all dressed in black suits and expensive dresses.

All the folks Damien introduced me to hardly gave me a sidelong glance before returning to their talks. I was like a prize he had won, something sparkling and fresh that they all wanted to examine.

My mind was racing as I sat quietly, trying to fit in. My gaze strayed around the space. This evening felt orchestrated in every way. Excellent. Too ideal.

But Damien was perfectly relaxed. He talked so confidently, as if he owned the room, and perhaps he did. With his calculating and icy smile, he was the focal point.

I had a nagging suspicion that something was wrong. There was a tension that lingered in the air like a storm ready to break, something that was just out of reach.

I was going to question Damien about the odd note I had discovered when a man entered the dining room through the open door. He had sharp features, black hair, and a towering build. It seemed... strange to have him around. Like a shadow moving over space.

It wasn't only me who noticed. People's heads turned, and some stood up a little. He didn't need to be introduced, but he wasn't. I could tell he was significant—even dangerous—by the way everyone regarded him.

I couldn't take my eyes off his as they darted across the room to mine. He had a certain familiar quality about him. I hadn't seen him before, though. Had I?

The tension was released by Damien's voice. Smoothly, he replied, "There's the man of the hour." "Let us all greet Mr. Weston."

Weston. I made an effort to locate the name. I couldn't think of anything.

However, there was a gleam in Weston's eyes as he grinned. It had a keen edge. Making calculations. I didn't know what he did.

I felt a chill go through my body. There was something off about him. He was different from everyone else in this room. Like a storm approaching, his presence was sinister and menacing. However, I was unable to look away.

As if he could sense my discomfort, Damien moved in closer and said softly. "He's in trouble; stay out of his way."

I nodded, but my chest continued to feel heavier. The remainder of the evening flew by. I said very little. I didn't eat much. My heart skipped a beat each time Weston looked at me. I couldn't get rid of the sensation that someone who knew me better than I did was watching and analyzing me.

Damien jumped up and slapped his hands together after supper. It's time for the visitors to depart. I have to take care of some business.

As the room gradually cleared, I trailed behind Damien to the elevator. Even though he remained silent, I could still feel the tension in the room.

When we arrived at the top floor, I saw that the west hallway door was ajar once more.

I went cold.

I said, "Damien," but my voice trailed off.

He squinted his eyes. "Avoid going inside."

I didn't answer. I simply gazed at the entrance, experiencing an unexplainable attraction. I had a desire to enter the door from within. Perhaps I might discover answers. Or perhaps everything would come to an end.