Page 79 of Taken By Sin
“And then there’s...” Bria’s voice lowers, and she leans in closer. “Margot Laurent.”
She nods toward a woman seated on a velvet chaise near the edge. Her gown is a deep plum, her mask glittering with amethysts, and she exudes an air of untouchable sophistication.
“She’s not mafia, but she’s dangerous in her own way. Owns one of the biggest media conglomerates in the country. She knows things about people that eventheydon’t know about themselves. If she’s here, it’s because she’s hunting for a story—or a secret.”
I shiver slightly, the weight of the room’s collective power settling on my shoulders. These aren’t just people; they’re players in a game I barely understand, and every move they make feels calculated.
Bria grins, nudging me again. “Overwhelmed yet?”
“A little,” I admit, clutching my champagne flute tighter.
“Don’t be,” she says, her tone reassuring. “You’re with us. That makes you untouchable. Just smile, keep your head high,and remember—you look like a goddess tonight. No one here can match that.”
Her words bring a flicker of confidence, and I nod, taking another sip of champagne as I let her guide me through the room.
Bria’s chatter is light and effortless, but the weight of her words stays with me. These people, this world… it’s a balancing act of power, secrets, and alliances, and tonight, I’m right in the middle of it.
The grand ballroom has been transformed into something out of a dream. It’s nearly unrecognizable, a gilded fairytale come to life. The high, vaulted ceilings are draped in shimmering gold and silver fabric that cascades down the walls like waterfalls, catching the soft glow of the crystal chandeliers. The light dances across the room, reflecting off the intricate mirrors and accents that frame the space, giving the illusion that the room stretches endlessly.
The marble floors, polished to a gleaming perfection, are dusted with gold flakes that glimmer underfoot as couples swirl across the dance floor. At the center of it all, a towering floral arrangement commands attention—a cascade of white roses, magnolias, and deep red dahlias spilling over an ornate bronze pedestal. The scent is intoxicating, mingling with the faint notes of champagne.
Round tables skirt the edges of the room, each one draped in luxurious emerald and ruby-colored linens. The centerpieces are works of art themselves: glass vases filled with floating candles and surrounded by lush greenery, accented with small golden charms that catch the flickering candlelight.
Theorchestra plays from a raised dais at the far end of the room, their black and white attire contrasting with the riot of colors in the crowd. The music flows effortlessly, wrapping the space in a melody that seems to sway with the movements of the guests.
Overhead, lanterns strung with delicate fairy lights float just beneath the ceiling, their soft glow casting a warm, magical light over the masked faces that fill the room. Each mask is a masterpiece—glittering with gemstones, adorned with feathers, or etched with intricate designs.
And then there’s the balcony. The wide, arched windows have been thrown open to reveal a terrace overlooking the moonlit gardens. The night air filters in, carrying with it the faint scent of lavender and the distant trill of crickets. Guests drift in and out, their laughter mingling with the music, the atmosphere electric yet somehow intimate.
It’s overwhelming in the most beautiful way, every detail a reminder of the wealth and power that surrounds this night.
Yet amidst all the grandeur, I feel a twinge of something deeper. A realization that this isn’t just a ball—it’s a stage, and every person here is playing a role. And tonight, I am too.
Sin is showcasing tonight that I am his and he is mine.
The music swells as I linger at the edge of the ballroom. I glance toward the open balcony doors, the soft night breeze offering a tempting escape, but before I can take a step, a familiar presence stops me.
“Magnolia,” Sin’s voice cuts through the hum of conversation like a low, resonant chord, sending a shiver down my spine.
I turn to find him standing just behind me, his dark suit impeccably tailored, his mask only adding to the intensity of his gaze. The light from the chandeliers reflects in his eyes, making them glint like polished obsidian. His lips curl into the faintest smile, but it doesn’t quite reach his eyes.
“Sorry for leaving you,” he says, his voice quiet but full of authority. “I had to take care of something.”
“It’s fine,” I reply, my voice softer than I intended. “Bria kept me company.”
He steps closer, his hand extending toward me, palm up. “Good. But I think it’s time I claimed you for the night.”
His words send warmth rushing to my cheeks, and I hesitate for a moment before placing my hand in his. His grip is firm yet careful, like he’s afraid of letting me go.
Without another word, he leads me into the heart of the ballroom. The crowd seems to part for him instinctively, with guests stepping aside with murmured greetings and lingering glances. I’m hyper-aware of every eye on us, every whisper that follows in our wake, but Sin doesn’t seem to notice—or care.
As we reach the center of the dance floor, the orchestra shifts seamlessly into a new melody, a hauntingly beautiful song that seems to echo in my chest. Sin turns to face me, his movements smooth and deliberate, and places one hand at my waist while the other holds mine.
This is something I’m confident in, dancing. The sisters showed us every fancy dance known to man.
“You look stunning tonight,” he says, his voice low enough that only I can hear. His gaze drops briefly to take in my gownbefore returning to my face, the intensity there making my heart skip a beat.
“Thank you,” I manage, feeling like I might melt under his attention. “You don’t look so bad yourself.”