Prologue
1055 Words
Sofia’s POV
I wasn’t supposed to be there.
The invitation wasn’t mine. The mask wasn’t mine. Even the dress I wore—tight, red, and way too sexy—belonged to someone else.
“This is a very bad idea,” I muttered, adjusting the neckline for the tenth time.
From across the room, my best friend just rolled her eyes. “You’ve said that twelve times now.”
“Because it is!”
She came over, heels clicking, and placed a mask over my face. “Which is exactly why you should do it. Live a little. One night only. No names, no regrets.”
I stared at my reflection.
I barely recognized myself. Red lips, curled hair, smoky eyes. The kind of girl who had nothing to lose. The kind who walked into parties like she belonged there.
But that wasn’t me.
I was the kind of girl who organized her files by color. Who panicked when her Google Calendar had empty space. Who hadn’t had s*x in… never mind.
“This is crazy,” I whispered.
My best friend just smiled and handed me a tiny clutch. “Then let crazy be fun for once.”
And for some reason… I listened.
---
The gala was held at a private hotel, with a ballroom that looked like something out of a movie—gold accents, soft jazz music, champagne flowing like water. Everyone wore black and gold masks, tailored suits, and designer gowns.
No one knew anyone. That was the point.
It was a party for the elite of the design world. Architects. CEOs. Rich men with connections.
I didn’t belong here.
But I stepped in anyway.
Fake confidence is still confidence, right?
I grabbed a glass of champagne and tried to blend in. I smiled at strangers, nodded at a few masked women. No one looked at me twice.
Until he did.
He was across the room, in a black suit that fit way too well. His mask covered half his face, but his eyes—God, his eyes—watched me like he already knew something I didn’t.
I looked away.
He didn’t.
Instead, he walked toward me. Slow. Calm. Like a man who always got what he wanted.
“Lost?” he asked, stopping right in front of me.
I cleared my throat. “No.”
He tilted his head, smiling a little. “First time here?”
“Yes,” I admitted, sipping my drink.
He watched me carefully. “So what brings you to a place like this?”
I thought about lying.
But then I remembered the rules: no names, no truths, just tonight.
So I shrugged. “Borrowed courage.”
He smiled wider. “Is that right?”
“Mm-hmm. And you?”
He leaned closer, voice low. “Borrowed time.”
I should’ve walked away.
But I didn’t.
---
One dance turned into three.
One drink became two.
He didn’t ask my name, and I didn’t ask his. We just… talked.
About music. About cities. About how the night felt like a secret no one else could touch.
He didn’t flirt the way other men did. No cheesy lines, no weird comments.
Just him watching me like I was the only real thing in the room.
My head was light, but not from the champagne.
From him.
And then he asked, “Want to get out of here?”
I should’ve said no.
But instead…
I nodded.
---
The elevator ride was silent.
But not empty.
His hand brushed mine. Just barely.
And I felt it everywhere.
By the time the doors opened, I could barely breathe.
He led the way. Not rushing. Not asking.
He knew I’d follow.
And I did.
The hotel suite was quiet. Dimly lit. All soft gold lights and white sheets and windows overlooking the city.
I stood by the door, suddenly frozen.
He walked ahead, shrugged off his coat, then turned back to me.
His eyes stayed on mine as he reached for the mask on my face.
I didn’t stop him.
He removed it slowly.
Then he dropped his own.
And we were just… two strangers.
No masks. No lies.
He stepped closer. So close I had to tilt my head to meet his gaze.
Still, he didn’t touch me.
He just asked, “Are you sure?”
I nodded.
But that wasn’t enough.
“Say it,” he said, voice low.
I swallowed. “Yes.”
Then he kissed me.
And everything else disappeared.
---
The kiss started soft.
Curious.
Like we were both still unsure if this was really happening.
But then his hands found my waist, and mine gripped his shoulders, and we stopped pretending to take it slow.
His mouth moved with heat. With purpose.
I didn’t know his name, but I knew the way his lips felt against mine. I didn’t know his past, but I knew the way his hand traced my spine like he wanted to memorize it.
He pulled away just enough to ask, “Still okay?”
I nodded, pulling him back down.
We didn’t talk after that.
We didn’t need to.
My dress hit the floor, his shirt followed.
My hands explored skin—warm, solid, smooth.
He kissed down my neck, my shoulder, then lower. Every inch felt like a spark waiting to light up.
I didn’t think. I didn’t analyze. For the first time in forever… I just felt.
He laid me down gently, like I was something to be taken care of. His weight pressed over mine, grounding me.
I gasped when he entered me, slow and deep.
But it wasn’t just about the heat. There was something in the way he moved, the way he looked at me while he did it.
Like this was more than just s*x.
Like this meant something.
Even if we’d never say it out loud.
---
Later, wrapped in sheets and silence, he traced lazy circles on my back.
I was wide awake, pretending to sleep.
Trying not to care.
But I did.
God, I did.
I wondered what his name was.
Where he lived.
What he did.
I wondered if he would remember me tomorrow.
I wondered if I wanted him to.
But I said nothing.
Because this wasn’t real.
This was borrowed.
Just one night.
- Writer
