Chapter 3

Olivia’s POV

“Livvie.” Dylan. I turned around to face him. He looked amazing, he wore a black tuxedo, and his brown hair was neatly gelled back. The faint stubble I'd earlier noticed was gone. He smiled at me.

How in God's name could I leave him?

I fisted my hands at my side, willing myself to move or answer him. His brows knit tightly together when he finally reached me.

“What's the matter?” He asked, taking my face in his hands.

“Nothing.” I tried to pull his hands away, he held on tighter, his lips curling in a scowl.

“You can leave Bertrand, I'll accompany her.” he looked at the butler, who had remained a few feet behind me.

“As you wish, sir.” he took a small bow and walked away.

“Now, will you tell me what the problem is?” I opened my mouth and he held up a finger, releasing a harsh breath.

“Don't you dare say 'nothing'. Your eyes wouldn't be this red and swollen over nothing,” He warned. I'd had the make-up artist put extra make up around my eyes to mask it. I'd barely noticed my swollen eyes when I looked in the mirror.

He looked so worked up, telling him what my mom said would not only make him ruin the party, and it’ll also make things harder for my mother. She wasn't mother of the year material but she tried, she'd given me Dylan.

“It's nothing really. I just had food poisoning. It's embarrassing so forget about it.” I forced a smile on my lips; my gaze pinned on the space between his brows.

“Are you okay? You’re not in pain or anything?” He asked. His genuine concern made me hate myself.

“Stop talking about it. You'll make me late for my party.” I teased, walking ahead.

“You look breathtaking, Olivia,” he said once he caught up with me. I halted in my tracks as red colored my cheeks.

“You're not too shabby yourself,” I replied, my voice sounding too breathy. He threw his head back and lets out a hearty laugh. I stared at him.

“Let's go.” he held out his arm.

At the door of the banquet, we saw masks in different baskets white, red, pink and black under a signpost that read ‘the white craves serenity, red and pink crave love while black…..’ I picked a black mask.

“Copy cat” Dylan teased. He tied his black mask at the back of his head. I rolled my eyes.

The masquerade ball is far more elaborate than I had anticipated. There is a throne at the front of the room, central with two huge men flanking each side. The decorations are minimal aside from the huge chandelier hanging in the middle with a million crystals refracting the light in the room.

There are about 20 tables covered in blue and white table cloths with ivory chairs surrounding them. The guests are dressed in dinner gowns and tuxedos of different colors. I fought the urge to head over to the buffet section and try out the different arrays of cakes.

Dylan is surrounded as soon as we stepped in. I'm also roped into conversations with people I don't recognize, though I doubt the masks had a huge role there.

Once I finished exchanging pleasantries with most of the guest. I snuck away to the buffet section, fully intent on getting a pistachio mousse cake.

“Her highness.” Dylan offered a mock bow, a half full glass of martini still in his left hand

“Oh please.” I snorted my mouth half full with the cake.

“Can I have this dance?” he eyed the plate of cake in my hand. “Whenever you're done devouring that cake”

“Devouring?” I let out the most unladylike laugh, causing a few guests to stare at me. My face heated. Dylan laughed.

“It's all your fault” I hissed and took his outstretched hand. He laughed again.

“Stop it.” I failed to keep my face stern as he led me to the centre of the room, the orchestra played Enchanted by Taylor Swift.

Dylan placed a hand on my back, I placed the opposing hand on his shoulder and we began to waltz.

“Ow,” I exclaimed. Dylan had stepped on my toe. His footwork had been sloppy which was unlike him.

“Sorry.” he squeezed his eyes shut then shook his head.

“It's okay.” I offered him a smile and we continued to glide across the dance floor. He stumbled.

“Are you okay?” I asked, our steps slowing. His eyes looked out of focus.

“Yeah. Um, no...I think I need some air.” he loosened his tie. I looked around and no one was really paying attention to us.

“Let's go outside,” I offered.

As soon as we stepped out of the banquet door, Dylan crashed into the wall. I rushed over to steady him and noticed the sheen of sweat on his forehead and the glazed over look in his eyes. I rolled my eyes. Great.

“Are you drunk, Dylan Moretti?” I asked. I knew he could hold his alcohol relatively well and he wouldn't push his limits at a family occasion but still.

“I just had a martini?” He groaned, pinching his forehead.

“Are you asking me? Oh my gosh.” I removed his mask. He blinked several times at me. My lips twitched.

“Just how drunk are–” I finally noticed how unusually wide his pupils were. My eyes widened.

He'd been drugged. I heard footsteps and laughter gradually becoming louder. I covered his mouth and held my breath till they receded.

“Okay, let's get you to your room.” I put his arm around my shoulder to support his weight. Once I had him settled, I would call Bertrand.

I pushed open the door to Dylan’s room on the east wing of the house. It was barely used so he would be safe there.

I dropped him on the bed, panting from the exhaustion of hauling him all the way there. I sat on the bed, trying to rub out the aches in my shoulder.

I turned around to face him, his cheeks were flushed and his lips slightly parted. I brushed some loose tendrils of hair from his forehead.

Just as I'm about to stand up his hand encircled my wrist. I tried to dislodge his hand but his grip tightened, almost painfully. He let out a moan.

He pulled my hand to his chest, placing it firmly against his sternum. I felt his heart hammering away matching the sound of my heartbeat.

I looked down and saw the first 3 buttons of his shirt unbuttoned. His toned chest was glistening with sweat. I swallowed.

Shit.

“Help Me,” he moaned. My eyes cut to his face. His eyes were still glazed as he shrugged his shirt off.

He couldn't mean for me to–. I placed a hand to my cheek. Had it gotten hotter?

He took my hand and pressed a kiss to my knuckle. It undid me. His lips were so soft and my skin tingled where they'd been.

“Sandra, please help me.” I snatched my hand back and let out a bitter chuckle. Of course, even drugged up he still didn't want me.

I stood up from the bed, trembling with shame and embarrassment. I let out a bitter chuckle. The fact no one had witnessed this was of little consolation.

Sandra was Dylan's girlfriend and she was most likely still at the banquet. I would call her and she would take care of him. I smiled wryly at the thought of it.

I placed my hand on the door handle but the voice that had been present since Dylan kissed my knuckles became louder.

Why couldn’t it be me?

No one would know. It wouldn't harm anyone. I didn't know if I would see Dylan once I left the house. I deserved this last harmless gift to myself.

I squared my shoulders and left the room. Once I reached the banquet door I took the same pink mask Sandra had on. Bertrand nodded his head once he saw me. I returned the gesture quickly and left, scared that my shameful plan was visible on my face.

I finally reached Dylan's room, panting from how fast my stride had been. I stretched my hand to the door handle and quickly withdrew it. I groaned. What was I doing?

“Sandra?” Dylan asked, once I opened his room door. I bit my lips tightly as he struggled to sit up. I switched off the light and locked the door behind me.