The Masked Siren: Seducing My Enemy

The spotlight hit Aine like a physical blow.

It was blinding, white and hot, erasing everything else in the room. She turned her back to the audience. The dress was cut low, exposing the line of her spine. She stood there for a long beat, letting the silence stretch until it was uncomfortable.

Then the music started.

It wasn't the upbeat jazz they were expecting. It was a slow, haunting Irish ballad. The notes were minor key, heavy with loss.

Aine began to sing. Her voice was low, raspy.

In the VIP box, Julian Talley froze. He had a glass of champagne halfway to his mouth. He set it down.

Aine turned around slowly. The silver mask caught the light, fracturing her face into a hundred glittering pieces. She kept her eyes unfocused, looking just above the heads of the crowd. She looked like she was alone in the room, lost in a memory.

From the shadows of the opposite balcony, Augustine watched. He leaned forward, his elbows on the railing. His brow furrowed. She can actually sing?

Aine let her gaze drift. She swept the room until she found Julian. She locked eyes with him for exactly half a second. Then she looked away, widening her eyes slightly, like a startled deer.

Julian sat up straight. He pushed the blonde model next to him away. "Who is that?" he asked, his voice cutting through the music.

Aine finished the song. The last note hung in the air, vibrating.

For a second, there was silence. Then, the applause broke out. It was thunderous.

Julian stood up. He grabbed a massive bouquet of red roses from the center of his table-flowers meant for decoration-and marched toward the stage.

Aine took a bow. When she straightened up, Julian was there, at the edge of the stage. He thrust the flowers at her.

Buried in the red petals was a gold key card. A hotel room key.

Aine stared at it. The crowd went quiet. Everyone knew you didn't say no to a Talley.

Aine took a step back. She looked at the flowers, then at Julian, then at the floor. She shook her head, just barely. A tremor ran through her shoulders.

Refusal. Fear.

Julian's smile faltered. His hand stayed extended, looking foolish.

"Take them," he commanded, his charm slipping.

Aine backed away further, clutching her microphone like a shield. She turned and ran.

She sprinted off the stage, into the darkness of the wings.

"Hey!" Julian shouted. Aine heard the flowers hit the floor with a wet thud. "Manager! Get the manager!"

Aine leaned against the brick wall of the backstage corridor, breathing hard.

"Are you insane?" Lazlo, the manager, hissed, grabbing her arm. "That was Julian Talley!"

"I..." Aine made her voice shake. "I don't do that. I don't sell myself."

"You work in a club, sweetheart. Everything is for sale."

The door to the backstage area banged open. Julian stormed in, his face flushed with anger and embarrassment.

"You playing hard to get?" He marched up to Aine and grabbed her upper arm. His grip was wet and clammy.

"Let go of me," Aine said, pulling back.

"I just want to talk," Julian sneered. "And maybe teach you some manners."

"Let her go."

The voice was ice cold.

Julian froze. They both looked toward the entrance. Augustine stood there. He wasn't yelling. He didn't have to. He just occupied the space, sucking the oxygen out of the hallway. Mercer stood behind him, looking bored.

"Augustine," Julian said, his grip loosening slightly. "I was just... getting to know the staff."

"You're harassing my employee," Augustine said. He walked forward, his steps echoing on the concrete.

Julian let go of Aine immediately. He smoothed his suit jacket. The hierarchy was clear. The Haynes family owned the banks that the Talley family used to launder their money.

"Just a misunderstanding," Julian muttered. He looked at Aine, his eyes lingering on the edge of her mask. "You have good taste, Augustine. She's... spirited."

He leaned in close to Aine. "We'll see each other again."

He walked out, brushing past Augustine.

The hallway cleared out. Lazlo scurried away.

It was just Aine and Augustine.

He walked up to her, crowding her personal space. He smelled of scotch and danger.

"Publicly rejecting him," Augustine said. "Was that to drive up your price?"

Aine looked up at him. She forced tears into the corners of her eyes.

"Not everyone is like you, Augustine," she said softly. "Not everyone thinks human beings have a price tag."

He stared at Aine. He opened his mouth to say something sharp, but stopped. He looked at her arm where Julian had grabbed her. There was a red mark.

He looked annoyed. Not at Aine, but at the situation. At the fact that he had intervened.

"Don't play with fire," he said.

He turned and walked away.

Aine watched his back. She reached up and wiped the tear from her eye. Her expression went blank.

Phase one complete.