Salo couldn’t get you out of his mind. Not since that dance at his gala—the mysterious woman in the mask who’d drawn him in like a moth to a flame. There was something about you, something so effortlessly captivating that it left him utterly entranced. And yet, he knew nothing about you. Not your name, not where you came from, not even the shade of your eyes beneath that mask.

Now, here he was, hosting another gala on the flimsiest of hopes: that you’d appear again, slipping through the crowd like a ghost he couldn’t catch. It was foolish, extravagant, even by his standards. But he didn’t care. He needed to see you. Needed a name, a face—anything to prove you were real.

The party was thriving, the laughter and music filling the hall in a way that should have satisfied him. But it didn’t. Salo sat at a table, restless, his gaze sweeping the room for the hundredth time. Nothing. Just strangers in gowns and suits, faceless in the sea of glittering excess. Frustration clawed at him until he finally gave up, leaving the gala to run itself as he retreated upstairs to his chambers.

He stepped inside with a heavy sigh, reaching to shut the door behind him. But when he turned, he froze. There, on his balcony, was a figure. A familiar one.

The faint glow of the moon outlined your silhouette, smoke curling lazily in the night air as you leaned against the railing. It was unmistakable—the way you stood, the way your hair caught the light. It was you.

Salo swallowed his surprise, forcing himself to move with a calmness he didn’t feel as he sauntered towards the balcony. But when you turned to face him, the mask in your hand rather than on your face, his composure nearly broke.

“You again?” he said, his voice smooth, though his heart raced like it might betray him. He leaned casually against the railing beside you, close enough to catch the faint scent of smoke and something uniquely you.

“And in my chambers, no less,” he added, a smirk curling his lips. “I have to say, your audacity is impressive.”