Page 115 of Cruel Pleasures
Minutes from midnight, society members flock toward the entrance to the ballroom. They’ve squeezed themselves into designer threads worth thousands and donned artsy, sparkling masks that have more personality in a single speck of glitter than they do in their entire bodies. Yet they’re practically bursting at the seams. For reasons more than the measurements of their fancy clothes, as this is the moment they’ve been waiting for.
The moment they finally get to show off.
More than any other night.
Tonight is the climax. The big moment that’s a culmination of the two-week-long event.
Arrogance surfs the air, possessing a feeling of its own. Every member feels self-important, like they’re the celebrity among celebrities. The entire world fucking revolves around them if you’d ask them. The true pinnacle of society.
I’ve never enjoyed being around these people and their never-ending egos. Their conceitedness drove me insane from a young age. It was like nothing ever mattered so long as they got the chance to show off their diamond bracelet or latest sports car. The person next to them could catch fire and burn to ashes and they would hardly blink twice. All’s well so long as they’re still fabulous.
Watching them strut toward the ballroom doors reminds me why I became the man I did.
Having the mother I do and the absent father I have reminds me why I acted out. Why I started down the dark path I went down out of boredom and desperation to find something, anything, outside of the yacht trips and fifty-thousand-a-plate gala dinners.
I set off toward the entrance apart from them. Still in designer threads, still emanating a distinct arrogance, but without the vapid ignorance. I’m well aware of what I am and who I am and the fact that I’m not a good person.
I’m a bad man who has done some fucked up shit. But I’d rather eat glass than ever fucking brag about the label on my clothes.
The club has pulled out all the stops for the finale masquerade. The grand ballroom has been transformed from its usual luxurious state of gold-trim everything to an artificial garden. The high-vaulted ceiling is now a plum sky with twinkling diamond-encrusted stars, while the heavy drapes have morphed into lush trees and leafy greens with delicate flowers.
A live quartet plays whimsical music that sounds out of a fairytale book. Some fantasy that might seem enviable ’til the dark edges creep in. Fitting given it’s the Midnight Society’s event.
I scan the crowds pretending I’m scoping the scene when I’m really searching for one person only.
Imani has already arrived and stands out among the dozens of others encircling her. The dim setting does nothing to take away from the natural glow she possesses at any given time. As if sensing my stare, she glances over in my direction.
An emotion I can’t name lights up her eye for a quick second before it goes out. What little of her beautiful face I can see through her mask empties of any real expression, a defense mechanism I recognize all too well. She doesn’t want me to know the power my presence has over her. Turning away just as quickly as she noticed me, she returns to mingling with the likes of Nolan.
I’d like to say I have enough self-control not to see red. That fantasies of me hacking up Nolan and dissecting his spleen aren’t the immediate thoughts that run through my head.
But what can I say?
My propensity for gruesome violence has long been a part of me.
Walk away. She’s not yours.
My jaw squares and I breathe raggedly through the urges fighting for freedom. I track Imani as she glides to another society member and engages them in polite conversation. She knows how to work a room. Even better when she’s aware the man who’s obsessed with her is watching.
And how can I resist when she looks so fucking good?
The strapless bodice she’s wearing looks molded to her body, accentuating her large breasts and cinching her waist even smaller than it normally is. The lace detailing is sensuous and draws the mind to lingerie before the full skirt blooms toward the floor. All midnight black and rosy pink against her radiant brown skin.
She knows exactly what the fuck she’s doing.
I won’t fall prey to the feminine manipulation. Fuming and on the brink of murderous rage, I ball my fists and turn to go.
The gentle melodies filling the ballroom end as I do. Jerome has taken the stage to address the room. But he’s not alone—the Hostess is up there with him in the same gown she’d been choosing earlier from her armoire.
“Ladies and gentlemen, if I can have your attention,” Jerome announces in his froggy tone. “The Hostess would like a word as we celebrate the end to this year’s Games.”
He gives a dramatic sweep of his arm and bows off to the side for her to take center stage. A hush has fallen over the rest of the room. Everyone’s undivided attention is on the Hostess.
“Thank you, Jerome,” she says. “And welcome, society members, to our final event of the Midnight Games. As many of you know, tonight is such an invaluable part of our tradition. It is a time for us to come together and celebrate our sacred club. In doing so, we enjoy the sport of the games one final time before parting ways. I am happy to announce the final round will begin shortly.”
A buzz of excitement hums through the large crowd as the masked members grin and mutter to each other. I’m toward the back, fists still clenched, my temper no less close to blowing up. I was a couple footsteps away from leaving before this asinine speech began…
“And it is with that in mind,” the Hostess goes on, “that the council and I have decided to add an element of surprise this year. You may remember we are down to six players out of the twenty-four—two, seven, fourteen, sixteen, twenty, and twenty-two. Well, it is time to reveal there were never just twenty-four players. This year, we had a twenty-fifth player.”
