Jan. 16, 2025

The Midnight Masquerade: (Episode 3 of 4) - "January Frost"

Show Notes
Transcript

In a luxury suite at The Palace Hotel, Vivian and Morgan's passionate cat-and-mouse game reaches new heights as dangerous truths emerge between kisses. Through steamy revelations about their encounters in Vienna, Paris, and Monaco, they discover the real reason behind their years of chase and near-misses: Morgan secretly hid Project Snowfall's catalyst in Vivian's blood, protecting her the only way he could.

The truth about his dead wife and Marina's deadly agenda surfaces during an intense encounter against the suite wall, their professional facades finally crumbling under the weight of passion and protection. But their intimate revelations are shattered along with the hotel windows as Marina's team closes in, forcing them to decide between running together or making their final stand. The episode culminates in a choice between self-preservation and justice, as Vivian realizes her own blood might be the key to ending everything – if she survives Marina's attack.

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Calarogu Shark Media, Hello, and welcome to Romance Weekly. This

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episode is titled The Midnight Masquerade, Episode three January.

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Frost the Palace Hotel defines Old Manhattan money, all gilt

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mirrors and crystal chandeliers that have witnessed a century of secrets. Tonight,

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it's witnessing one more. As I press Morgan against the

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wall of our luxury suite, his mouth hot on my throat.

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Your contact is late, he murmurs between kisses. He'll come.

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I arch as his hands, fine skin under my silk blouse.

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He always does like you did in Vienna. His teeth

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graze my pulse point. When you climbed into my shower,

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pretending to be a lost guest, pretending I laugh against

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his mouth, I was exactly where I wanted to be.

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His grip tightens possessively. Tell me about that night, the

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real story. This time, the memory floods back hot as steam.

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Two years ago. Vienna, the Palais Hansen Kompinski's presidential suite

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had excellent security cameras, motion sensors, armed guards, but it

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didn't have Morgan Steel in its database of non operatives.

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Didn't know he was Cia hunting Marina Volkov, I did oh,

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I'd stumbled into his bathroom wearing nothing but surprise and

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expensive lingerie. I'm so sorry. Wrong room, he'd been magnificent,

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water sluicing down, hard muscle, eyes sharp despite the steam.

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This suite takes up the whole floor. There is no

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wrong room. Really, I'd let my gaze drift lower. Then

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I must be exactly where I meant to be. What

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followed was pure fire, hands sliding on wet skin, mouths

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tasting truth and lies in equal measure. He'd pressed me

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against the marble, not knowing I had a team copying

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the Volkov server data three floors below. Tell me your name,

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he demanded, fingers doing wicked things between my thighs. Eve,

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I'd gasped, the first of many lies between us. Call

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me Eve, present day. You knew exactly who I was,

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Morgan says, now, pulling me back to our palace suite

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in Vienna, in Paris every time, Yes, I start on

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his shirt buttons, just like you knew who I was

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in Monaco last summer. His hand still what Monaco? I

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traced the scar on his chest, the one Marina's bullet

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left in Prague. The Casino, the blonde at the baccarat

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table who spilled champagne on your jacket. His eyes darkened

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with recognition. That was me, of course. I roll my

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hips against his, feeling him react. I needed to see

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if you were still hunting me, still wanting me, and

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his hand slides into my hair, grips firmly. What did

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you learn that you let me get away? My lips

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brush his ear, That you could have caught me in

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the elevator, in the garage, in the His kiss silences

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me hard, demanding, full of two years of chase and

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want and need. His hands make quick work of my blouse,

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finding lace and skin beneath. I let you go in Monaco,

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he admits, between kisses, because I needed to know, know

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what if you were working with Marina, if Vienna was

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just a job, or if my phone buzzes three short pulses,

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celests emergency code ignore it. Morgan growls, his mouth, doing

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sinful things to my collarbone. Can't but I are into

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his touch anyway. She's found something about project Snowfall. Snowfall.

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Can wait. His hands slide under my skirt. This can't

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even if I tell you, I gasp as his fingers

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find their target. That I know what the bioweapon really does.

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His touch turns dangerous, not quite painful, but close like truth,

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like need, like power shifting between predators. What do you know?

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His voice is rough against my throat, that it's not

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just a weapon. I rock against his hand, using pleasure

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as leverage. It's a key to genetic manipulation, to controlling

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who lives. I bite his ear gently and who dies?

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Clever girl. His fingers move fast and making me gasp?

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What else? Marina? Marina sold it to Julian. My nails

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dig into his shoulders as heat builds. But he wanted

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more than just the formula. He wanted the catalyst. Morgan's

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other hand tangles in my hair, pulls back so he

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can watch my face, the missing ingredient that makes it work. Yes,

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I'm close now, pleasure and danger blurring. The one you hid,

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Oh God, you hid in Vienna? And where did I

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hide it? Vivian? His thumb circles precisely, professionally, like a

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man who studied every way to make me break. Tell

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me and I'll let you come. Powerplay his specialty. But

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I learned from the best. I lean in, bite his

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bottom lip hard enough to draw blood. His grip tightens, reflexively,

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pushing me over the edge as pleasure wipes out my vision.

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I whisper in his ear, in me, You hid it

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in me. He shoves me back against the wall, eyes

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dark with something more dangerous than desire. What did you

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say the catalyst? I'm still trembling from release, but my

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mind is sharp that night in the shower, the scratch

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on my shoulder, that wouldn't heal. You didn't just seduce

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me in Vienna. You marked me to protect you. His

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hands framed my face desperate. Now if they knew you

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carried it like they knew about Sarah. The name hits

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him like a bullet. Your wife didn't die in a

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car crash, did she? Marina found the catalyst in her blood.

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His kiss is brutal, punishment and passion and pain, all

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mixed together. I taste blood, his or mine. I'm not

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sure that's why you let me go in Paris. I

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gasp as his hands tear at my remaining clothes. Why

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you never really caught me. You were keeping me moving,

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keeping me safe, and you. He lifts me and I

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wrap my legs around his waist. Why did you keep

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coming back Vienna, Paris, Monaco, because I knew I guide

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him where we both need him. Every time I saw you,

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I felt it, the heat, the change in my blood,

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the way my body recognized yours before I even knew

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who you were. He pushes into me hard, making us

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both moan. Mine, he growls. From that first moment, mine

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to hunt, mine to protect mine, to my phone irrupts

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with Celeste's override tone, then his phone, then the hotel

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alarm system. Through the sweets windows, we see figures repelling

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down from the roof Marina. We say together. She knows.

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I clench around him, not ready to let go about

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me the catalyst let her come. His thrust is possessive,

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claiming I'm done running, done watching you run. Then let's

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end this. I kiss him, tasting blood, and promises together.

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We come apart together against the wall, fast and hard

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and desperate, as if our bodies know what's coming, as

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if pleasure now might make up for pain later. The

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windows explode inward as we're still catching our breath. Time

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to go, Morgan says, already reaching for his weapon. No,

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I grab his arm. Time to fight through the broken windows,

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snow swells in like Marina's calling card. But this time

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I'm not running. This time I have something worth fighting for.

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And if the catalyst in my blood is what they want,

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let them try to take it.

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Romance Weekly is a production of Calarogu Shark Media Executive

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producers Mark Francis and John mc dermot. Portions of this

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podcast may have been created with the assistance of Ai

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Calaruga Shark Media.

The Midnight Masquerade: (Episode 3 of 4) - "January Frost"

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