Sleeping with the Enemy's Son

Ashley's POV

If sin had a scent, it would be the perfume I wore that night - jasmine and recklessness.

The zipper slid up the back of my black gown, hugging me like temptation itself.

In the mirror, I didn't look like Ashley Walter - daughter of media king Marcus Walter, fiancée to the most boring man alive, and prisoner of a legacy I never asked for.

No. Tonight I looked like the kind of woman who might ruin her life on purpose.

"Perfect," Chloe said, tilting her champagne glass as she admired me. "No one's going to recognize you behind that mask."

"Good," I murmured, fastening the delicate black lace across my face. "That's the point."

Because tonight, I wasn't the woman trapped in a hollow engagement to Richard Thorne - the golden boy of Wall Street, the one my father handpicked to 'secure our legacy.'

Tonight, I wasn't the puppet daughter of a man who could destroy entire companies with one phone call.

Tonight, I was no one.

Or at least, I wanted to be.

"Still thinking about him?" Chloe's voice was teasing, but sharp underneath. "You've been off ever since he canceled your Paris trip."

"He said he had work."

"He always says that."

I turned away. I couldn't tell her the rest - that Richard hadn't touched me in months, that he flinched from my hand like it burned him. That sometimes, I heard him whisper another woman's name in his sleep.

"Forget him for one night," Chloe said, looping her arm through mine as she dragged me toward the door. "Everyone who's anyone will be at the gala. Billionaires, heirs, sinners... and the best part? Masks mean no consequences."

"Come on," Chloe said, linking her arm through mine. "One night. No names, no cameras, no Marcus Walter breathing down your neck.

You deserve to have a little fun before your father marries you off to the devil."

"I thought I already was."

The Château Noir Gala shimmered like temptation dressed in diamonds.

The ballroom glowed gold, every chandelier reflecting a hundred untold sins. Masks glimmered, laughter tangled with violins, and the air hummed with champagne and secrets.

Everywhere I looked, power wore a disguise.

I moved through the crowd like smoke, half-hidden behind my mask, sipping wine that tasted like courage.

For the first time in years, I wasn't being watched. I wasn't being her - Marcus Walter's perfect daughter, a pawn in someone else's deal.

"Smile, darling," Chloe whispered before slipping away with a dark-haired stranger.

So I smiled. I smiled until my cheeks hurt, until the sound of laughter felt like static in my skull.

That's when I saw him.

A man at the edge of the ballroom - tall, broad shoulders beneath a black suit, a silver mask that caught the light every time he moved. He wasn't dancing. He was watching.

Me.

For a second, my pulse faltered. Then he lifted his glass slightly - an unspoken invitation.

I told myself