Chapter 2 - The Edge of the Skyline
The heavy oak door clicked shut behind me, instantly muting the swelling orchestral music and chatter of the ballroom.
Cold October air hit my bare shoulders like a physical blow as I stepped onto the wide, quiet stone balcony overlooking the glittering expanse of the Chicago skyline. The city lights stretched out endlessly beneath the dark, weeping sky, reflecting in the puddles on the pavement far below. I gripped the cold stone railing with both hands, my chest heaving as I tried to calm my racing heart.
Why him? Out of all the high-society women in that room—wealthy heiresses, fashion icons, powerful corporate heirs—why did he look at me?
“You’re good at running.”
The deep, resonant voice came from the shadows near the doorway, slicing cleanly through the whistle of the wind.
I jumped, my breath catching in my throat. Without turning around, I whispered into the dark, “I wasn't running. I was leaving.”
“It’s the same thing when you leave because someone finally noticed you.”
Slowly, reluctantly, I turned to face him.
Mason Bennett stood in the doorway, his hands casually tucked into the pockets of his tailored trousers. He hadn't bothered to bring a jacket, yet the bitter wind didn't seem to touch him. Up close, he wasn't terrifying because of the whispered mafia stories that circulated through the city’s underground circles.
He was terrifying because every single ounce of his fierce, uncompromising attention belonged entirely, unequivocally to me.
“My sister’s waiting for you back inside,” I said, my voice shaking slightly despite my best efforts to keep it steady.
Mason tilted his head, a faint, dangerous shadow of a smile touching the corner of his lips. “Your sister?”
“Victoria.”
“Interesting.”
“Why?” I asked, narrowing my eyes slightly.
“Because,” Mason said, stepping out from the shadows and closing the distance between us with slow, deliberate strides, “I never said I knew which woman was your sister.”
Heat rushed violently into my cheeks, burning my skin from the inside out. I looked down at the stone floor, my fingers tightening around the railing. “Are you always that direct?”
A low, quiet laugh escaped his chest—a rich, dark sound that vibrated in the open air. “Being subtle is a waste of time. And in my line of work, wasting time gets people killed.”
He stopped just inches away from me. The warmth radiating from his body cut through the autumn chill, and the clean scent of cedarwood and expensive amber surrounded me. He stepped closer still, until the stone railing pressed firmly against my lower back, trapping me in the small space between his frame and the edge of the balcony.
Every instinct in my body screamed at me to duck under his arm and flee back inside to the safety of the crowd. Yet something far stronger—something reckless and long-suppressed—kept me rooted to the spot. I was desperate to understand why a man who commanded empires had followed a nobody onto a freezing balcony instead of the woman who had spent months orchestrating this exact meeting.
“What’s your name?” he asked softly, his gaze dropping to my lips before rising back to meet my eyes.
“You already know.”
“I want to hear you say it.”
“Emily,” I whispered.
He repeated my name slowly, rolling the syllables over his tongue like it was a rare, forbidden treasure, almost as if he intended to commit every letter of it to memory forever.
“Emily,” he murmured, his voice dropping an octave. “It suits you far better than that dress.”
“The dress isn't mine,” I blurted out before I could stop myself.
Mason’s eyes held mine, filled with an intensity that made my breath hitch. “I know.”
He reached out slowly, his knuckles brushing lightly against the bare skin of my shoulder. The touch sent an electric shock racing down my spine.
“That’s exactly why it looks wrong on you,” he added quietly. “It’s screaming for attention. You don’t need to scream.”
Before I could process the words, before I could figure out how to respond to the terrifying, magnetic pull drawing me toward him, the heavy oak door flew open behind us.
Another man stepped briskly onto the balcony. He wore a sharp gray suit, his expression completely blank, though his eyes darted nervously between Mason and me.
“Mr. Bennett,” the man said quietly, keeping a respectful distance. “We found the man who betrayed you.”
Mason’s face instantly hardened, the warmth vanishing from his features in a fraction of a second, replaced by a mask of cold, lethal authority.
May you like
Yet, even as the shadow of his underworld empire descended upon him, he never took his dark eyes off me.
“Bring him here,” Mason commanded softly.
