Chapter 2 Unfinished Business

The sheets were still warm when she opened her eyes-but he was gone.

Sienna Rae sat up slowly, blinking against the morning light streaming through the floor-to-ceiling windows of the penthouse suite. Her head throbbed with the distant echo of champagne and whiskey, and her body hummed with the afterglow of the night before.

She ran a hand through her tangled hair and glanced around the suite.

Empty.

No Mason.

No note. No number. Not even a stray cufflink.

Just the lingering scent of him in the room-woodsmoke and musk, intoxicating and maddening.

Just one night.

She'd agreed to it. Hell, she'd initiated it. No strings. No follow-ups. No expectations.

But still... something twisted in her chest as she stood, her bare feet hitting the cold marble floor.

She found her dress neatly draped over a velvet chair, along with her heels placed side by side, as if someone had taken care to preserve the illusion of grace. Her clutch sat on the end table, unopened. Her lipstick was smudged, but her pride remained intact.

She hadn't lost anything she wasn't willing to give.

Or at least, that's what she told herself.

Back in her apartment, the city didn't wait.

Emails flooded in. Notifications buzzed. Content deadlines stared her down from every screen.

She moved through her loft like a ghost, robe tied loosely, a coffee mug in hand, but her thoughts were still tangled in last night's sheets. Her body remembered him-the way he moved, the way he looked at her, like she wasn't just beautiful but real.

It had been too good.

Too intense.

Too... unrepeatable.

And she hated how much she wanted to repeat it.

Her phone buzzed again. She expected another brand rep or a DM from one of the party girls tagging her in rooftop photos.

But it wasn't that.

It was a message from Gia.

Gia: You good? You ghosted after midnight. 👀 Spill. Tell me you didn't go home with that hot broody one at the bar.

Also... did you see the invite?!

Sienna frowned, fingers flying over the screen.

Sienna: What invite?

Seconds later, a link popped up. A glossy, animated email from Ryder & Wolfe Events-an elite event and hospitality group known for their outrageously exclusive, press-free, ultra-high-end gatherings.

And there it was:

Ryder & Wolfe Invite: Midnight Masquerade Gala – This Friday

You've been personally selected to attend our most coveted annual event. Private location. Strict dress code. One night only.

No cameras. No posts. Just presence.

RSVP Required. Attendance by confirmation only.

Sienna blinked.

Her name was on the list. Her email. Her phone number.

How?

She'd never been invited to anything that exclusive before. She didn't even know she was on their radar. Hell, most of her influencer friends would kill for this.

Was it a fluke?

Or... him?

Mason Wolfe.

Her stomach flipped. She didn't know his last name last night. He hadn't told her.

But now that she saw the company name-Ryder & Wolfe-it clicked. Her heartbeat quickened.

He had connections. Serious ones.

Suddenly the tailored suit, the quiet confidence, the luxury suite-it all made sense.

And so did his disappearing act.

He was more than just a sexy stranger. He was part of something bigger. Maybe even one of the owners.

The thought made her pulse spike.

Was this his way of seeing her again... without actually asking?

-------------------------

The night of the Gala arrived faster than she expected.

Sienna stood in front of the full-length mirror in her bedroom, staring at herself like she was about to step onto a movie set.

The gown she wore clung to her curves in all the right places-deep emerald silk that shimmered with every breath. Her makeup was subtle but sultry. Her hair fell in soft waves, and the custom black lace mask framed her hazel eyes like something out of a Venetian fantasy.

The event rules had been clear. Masks on. No photography. Leave your public persona at the door.

She hadn't stopped thinking about him for three days.

And now, she was walking straight into his world.

The entrance to the gala was discreet-no red carpet, no press wall. Just a set of double doors in a nondescript downtown building with a golden key symbol above the entrance. The doorman checked her ID, her name on a velvet tablet.

"Enjoy your evening, Ms. Rae," he said with a knowing smile.

Inside, the venue exploded with opulence.

Candlelight danced off crystal chandeliers. Velvet drapes fell in rich colors. There was champagne, live string music, waiters in tuxedos.

And masks. Everyone wore one.

It was like a dream laced with secrets.

And she loved every second of it.

She drifted through the crowd, sipping her drink, heart thudding louder with each step. Every glance, every passing figure, she searched for him.

And then-she felt it.

A presence.

She turned slowly-and there he was.

Mason.

Leaning casually against a marble column in a midnight-black suit, mask carved in dark leather, eyes unmistakable even behind the disguise.

He was watching her.

She walked toward him like they were the only two people in the room.

He didn't speak.

Neither did she.

Not at first.

They stood inches apart, breath mingling, tension snapping between them like a live wire.

"You left without a word," she said.

"You told me it was just one night."

"Doesn't mean I expected a disappearing act."

He stepped closer. "And yet, here you are."

"Here I am," she echoed. "Trying to figure out if this is your way of playing games or your way of saying you want more."

His hand grazed hers. "What if I don't know what I want yet?"

Sienna tilted her head. "Then why invite me?"

He smiled, the first real smile she'd seen on him. "Because I couldn't stop thinking about you."

Something cracked open inside her.

But before she could respond, someone called Mason's name from across the room.

He sighed, brushing his fingers against hers one last time.

"Come find me later," he said, already turning away.

And just like that, he vanished again.

But this time, Sienna wasn't just going to let him slip away.

Not without answers.

Not without seeing where this crazy, unexpected thread between them might lead.

She wasn't done with him.

And something told her-he wasn't done with her either.

Sienna tried to focus on the music, the champagne, the surreal ambiance of the Midnight Masquerade, but her mind was already tangled in him again.

Mason Wolfe.

The man was a mystery wrapped in an Armani suit with the quiet dominance of someone who controlled entire rooms without ever needing to raise his voice. It didn't matter that he'd vanished after their night together-or that he clearly lived in a different world than hers.

There was something electric between them.

And it wasn't done yet.

She turned down another waiter offering her truffle canapés and wove through the crowd, scanning masked faces, each elegant and unreadable. The venue was like something out of a Gatsby fever dream-moody lighting, soft jazz weaving through dark corners, and hidden lounges where people flirted behind their masks like characters from a forbidden play.

Sienna finally found a quiet balcony overlooking the city, the doors slightly ajar, moonlight spilling onto a polished marble floor. She stepped out into the night air, letting it cool her heated skin, and leaned on the railing.

That's when she heard the door close behind her.

She didn't turn.

She didn't need to.

"You're not easy to find," Mason said behind her.

She glanced over her shoulder. "You always hide behind masks and rooftop exits?"

He stepped beside her, hands in his pockets. "Only when I'm not sure what I want."

"And now?"

His eyes searched hers beneath his mask. "Now I know exactly what I want."

She turned fully to face him, arms crossed, not giving in so easily. "And what's that?"

"You."

It was one word. Simple. Direct.

But it hit her like a damn lightning strike.

Sienna swallowed the lump in her throat. "I don't do complicated."

"This doesn't have to be."

She raised a brow. "You disappeared, Mason. You didn't even say goodbye. And now you're inviting me to masquerade galas like it's your second language. Forgive me for being confused."

He stepped closer, dropping the mask.

Literally.

He pulled it off and set it on the balcony rail. His expression was raw now. Tired. Real.

"I panicked," he admitted.

She blinked. "You?"

"Yeah. I'm not used to... that." He nodded toward her. "To you. I've had flings. Fun. But I've never had one night make me want more."

Silence stretched between them.

"I'm not some fantasy you can escape," she said softly.

He touched her chin, gently lifting her face. "I don't want to escape you."

Her breath caught.

"And what happens after tonight?" she whispered.

Mason studied her, then took her hand, threading their fingers together.

"I don't know. But I'd rather figure it out with you than spend another night pretending you didn't turn my world upside down."

A long pause.

Then Sienna stepped into him, closing the distance.

Their lips met again, and it was everything.

Slower this time.

Deeper.

Their bodies remembered the rhythm, but now there was more behind it. Emotion. Longing. A hunger that wasn't just physical-it was about knowing. Discovering.

They didn't care who might see.

An hour later, they slipped into a private lounge behind the grand ballroom.

The door locked behind them with a soft click.

And then it was just them.

The chemistry reignited instantly-his jacket hitting the floor, her gown sliding down her hips, their mouths colliding with breathless urgency.

But this wasn't just sex.

It was more. Desperate, tender, charged.

Mason slowed the pace, holding her gaze, asking for permission with every touch. And Sienna gave it freely-because she wanted this. Him. Not the fantasy, but the real man behind the guarded eyes.

Every kiss, every sigh, every whispered moan-everything deepened the tether between them.

When they collapsed together hours later on the plush velvet chaise, tangled in each other, Sienna lay against his chest, breathless and dizzy.

He brushed her hair back. "I meant what I said."

She looked up. "About what?"

"About wanting more."

She hesitated. "What does more mean to you?"

Mason didn't answer right away.

Then: "A second date. An actual one. In the daylight. No champagne, no masquerade, no pretenses."

Her lips curved. "You mean, like, real-life people?"

"Terrifying, I know."

She laughed. "You think I'll survive that?"

He leaned in, brushing her nose with his. "I'm counting on it."

Two days later, Sienna sat at her favorite downtown café, heart thudding with nerves she hadn't felt since college.

She wore denim, heels, and a soft cashmere sweater. No glam. No curated look. Just her.

And then Mason walked in.

No suit.

Just jeans, a black Henley, and a crooked smile.

He walked straight to her table, no hesitation, no fanfare.

"You look..."

Sienna smirked. "Don't say cute. I'll get up and leave."

"I was going to say breathtaking. But cute works too."

He sat across from her.

And that's how it began.

Not with drama.

Not with secrets.

But with coffee.

Conversation.

And the quiet realization that sometimes, one night isn't the end.

It's just the beginning.