"Here you are, brother." Mercedes appears behind me in the reflection of my mirror to assist in securing the strap of the mask around my head.
It’s a silver headpiece. Half skull, half minotaur, crowned with roses. Dark and sinister undertones with a hint of the De La Rosa legacy. Once it is in place, I can conclude she has chosen well for me.
"Perfect." She smiles wickedly over my shoulder. "You look positively devilish."
I cast my eyes away from my reflection and clear my throat. "Yes, well, I suppose it will do."
Mercedes follows me downstairs to the foyer, her red dress swishing as her heels tap against the old stone. She will be attending tonight's gala as well, and I suspect she hopes to capture the attention of Van der Smit and his new wife in a dress that looks as if she were sewn into it. If I wasn't so preoccupied, I would tell her to change, but the strange energy coursing through my veins won't allow my thoughts to settle on the propriety of my sister. Not when I have my wife to consider.
We wait for ten minutes in silence until finally, she appears at the top of the grand staircase, flanked by two guards. My breath catches in my throat as my eyes roam over her figure, wrapped in a sweeping black floor-length dress decorated in traditional gold filigree. Her mask consists of matching gold and black detailing, butterfly wings obscuring half of her face entirely. I cannot see her eyes in the dimly lit room, and I am glad for it. I don't doubt beneath that mask there is an expression of hatred. But for tonight, it will be as though those feelings don't exist.
Mercedes looks exceptionally pleased with herself as she crooks her finger, gesturing for my wife to come to us.
"Is it everything you wished for?" she whispers as Ivy moves forward stiffly.
"It is," I answer darkly.
Ivy takes the stairs slowly, clutching the railing as the guards follow her. When she reaches the bottom, she nearly stumbles, and I step forward to catch her in my arms, only for her to right herself and recoil from my touch.
"I'm fine," she says coolly. "There is no need for the pretense of concern."
Her biting words are a reminder that turmoil lingers in her thoughts, but by all rights, she should expect to be punished for speaking in such a tone, regardless of her feelings. However, I find that I am not in the mood to punish her right now, and I suspect that it will not improve her feelings of attending our first event together as a married couple. I need tonight to go well. The Society has expectations of their Sovereign Sons, and part of those expectations are a smooth integration of their chosen partner into the upper echelon. It is my duty to take Ivy to the masquerade gala tonight and show her off. Every man will be envious of me when they see her, and I take pleasure in knowing it. There can be no exceptions to her performance as a dutiful wife.
Mercedes glances at me questioningly, waiting for my reaction to Ivy's bitterness. I am aware it will only further her contention when I forcibly take my wife's arm and lead her to the door without another word. My sister follows behind, and we all converge at the car where Marco is waiting to drive us.
The journey to the compound is stilted with silence. Mercedes stews on one side of me, and Ivy on the other. None of us speak, but when we arrive, I tell Mercedes to go inside without us. We exit the car, and I hold back to study my wife. Her blood-red lips are tempting me beneath the streetlight. Veiled in mystery, draped in black and gold, she has never been so beautiful.
I drag her close to my body, even as she resists, my lips brushing against the shell of her ear. "You know what is expected of you this evening."
"Yes," she bites back.
Despite the harshness of her tone, I can feel the tremble in her muscles as I press my body firmly against hers. Is it a sign of her fear or her unwanted desire?
Darkness settles over me as I conclude it is of course fear. It can never be anything else.
"Be good, and you will be rewarded," I tell her. "Misbehave, and I will make you beg for mercy."
She turns her face away from me, and I release her only to settle my palm over my mark on the nape of her neck, guiding her inside the compound and down the corridor to the ballroom. Two men in suits open the doors for us, ushering us inside the space reserved for the biggest events of the year. Rich shades of crimson and black adorn the walls, and to my satisfaction, the grand chandeliers cast only a soft glow over the floor, in keeping with the mystery of the evening. The seductive notes of jazz float from the speakers, luring us into the center of the room.
Within moments, a waiter appears, offering us each a glass of champagne. Ivy reaches out for one, only to have it commandeered by my fingers with a dark look cast her way.
I swirl the glass in my hand, sniffing the alcohol before I drain it in two swallows. Once it is returned to the tray and the server disappears, Ivy peers up at me with a cold smile.
"There's no need to refuse me a drink," she says sweetly. "It seems you have not done your job and produced a child in me. Perhaps, I was wrong about your potency after all."
My fingertips dig into her arm as I glare down at her. I was already aware of her unwanted visitor this morning. Antonia informed me with a whispered voice before she shuffled away and left me to stew in my irritation. But Ivy is being purposely spiteful, and I will not have that. I am considering my reproach when another masked man appears. He is well dressed in a formal suit, and his presence here means he is a Sovereign Son. But I don't recognize who he could be until he speaks in a low greeting.
"Santiago." He dips his head in a nod. "Would you mind having a word?"
I am surprised to find it is Angelo lurking beneath the mask, still clearly in disguise. I did not expect to see him again, particularly in New Orleans, as I assumed he would be back in Seattle dealing with his own revenge plans.
I nod and look at my wife before my eyes find my sister across the room.
"Go join Mercedes," I tell her. "She can introduce you to a few people while I have a word."
"I'm going to the bathroom." She tilts her chin up at me defiantly. "And then I will join your sister. But I don't need her introductions. I'm perfectly capable of conducting myself."
I lean down to growl in her ear, gripping her arm in warning. "Then you can start by watching how you speak to me. Don't fool yourself into believing I won't punish you in public. In fact, I would take great pleasure in doing so for all my brethren to witness. Don't test me, Ivy."
She yanks herself away and gathers a handful of the fabric of her dress, treating us to a view of her exposed back as she stalks away and disappears into the crowd.