Ambushed by M.E. McAndrews
Chapter 26
Olivia
my legs bounce with anxiety. My fingers twist mindlessly around my curls. I glance over at Austin, who is sitting beside me in the limo, appearing relaxed and confident. He is dressed in a black tuxedo, his dark hair styled in a sleek, sophisticated manner. Inside the darkness of the car, all I can see are the white rings around his dark pupils through the black mask that covers his face. He truly fits the role of villain.
There is an energy between us, a conflicted mixture of both attraction and uncertainty.
I take a deep breath; readjusting the ivory mask he gave me to wear. Tonight is going to be a test of my resolve, a test of my ability to keep my emotions in check. But maybe I can meet someone who has dirt on Austin. I’m sure he has plenty of enemies.
I glance out the window, watching the buildings fly by. We're in the upper part of town. A part of town that’s another world. A world that rarely sees the likes of me.
“Relax,” he says, placing his hand on my thigh. A hint of amusement lingers in his voice. “It's just a party.”
A party full of people I most likely can't stand. He eases his shoulders and radiates calm confidence.
“Just try to have a good time, okay?”
“That's a tall order, Austin.”
He chuckles. “Does that mean you don't want to have a good time?”
I take a deep breath. “It means I'm not sure how I'm supposed to act with these people.”
“You're supposed to be with me,” he says. “That's all you need to do. Be here with me.”
I nod.
“You look great,” he says.
I look down at the spectacular scarlet gown he brought for me. “Thank you.”
“You're welcome,” he replies, running his hand along my bare leg. “Are you going to dance with me?”
“I'm not much of a dancer.”
Austin smiles. “You’ll be great.”
The car pulls up at the center of a long circular driveway in front of a massive mansion. The driver steps out and walks around to open the door. Austin gets out first, and I follow him as he takes my hand to help me out of the car.
I straighten my dress and look up at him, taking in his firm jaw line and the intensity in his eyes. Knowing that I’m his “date” gives me a small boost of confidence. I can do this.
It's a sprawling mansion with white columns on either side of the entrance, and a long, winding cobblestone walkway that leads to the front door.
“This is beautiful,” I say.
“Used to belong to British Royalty, several hundred years ago, I think. A count who came to America or something like that.” He extends an arm for me to take.
There are several groups of people dressed in the finest clothing streaming up the path toward the entrance. They move gracefully, laughing and talking amongst themselves. Many of them are couples, while others move in small clusters of friends. They all radiate a certain arrogant poise and sophistication, glittering with jewels and bright colors as they ascend the massive marble steps leading to the front entrance of the mansion.
My eyes hover over the army of paparazzi, a sea of cameras popping off bright flashes.
Austin leans toward my ear. “Something to be aware of... these people will wonder who you are.”
“Really?”
He nods. “It's part of being seen with me, here.”
I gulp. Sweat collects on my neck and back.
“You can do this,” he says.
“I'll try.”
His hand slides down my lower back, drawing me against him. “Be thankful for that mask,” he murmurs as we walk past the paparazzi and through the front doors, which are wide open, but guarded by a two hundred fifty pound linebacker type dressed in a light blue tuxedo.
The interior is even more stunning than the exterior. The cavernous foyer is decorated with elaborate chandeliers, marble statues, and twenty-foot-tall stone columns. People crowd around in small groups, laughing and talking, dressed in their gaudy finest. The women wear flowing gowns adorned with jewels and tiaras, while most of the men are wearing black tuxedos.
I keep my back straight and hold my head high as we walk together hand-in-hand through the entrance.
“I wonder how they're going to react to you,” he says. “They'll have questions.”
I have questions. I have a million questions.
The place smells of fancy food and expensive perfumes. The chandeliers above our heads sparkle with thousands of crystals. Waiters in suits scurry about; I imagine they are just the tip of the iceberg of hundreds of servants performing an immense amount of work for such a gala.
“I feel like I should tip them or something,” I whisper to Austin.
He laughs, squeezing my hand. “Let me get you a drink.”
“Thank you.”
He leans down and kisses my cheek. The touch of his lips on my skin sends a shiver through my body.
“Don't wander off, okay?” he says, as he turns toward the crowded bar at the back of the room.
I wouldn't even know where to go if I wanted to. My eyes dart around the crowd. These are Austin's people. I wonder if any of them know the real him. Before I can pick out someone to approach, he returns with two crystal champagne flutes, taking my arm and leading me over to a small group standing beside one of the large columns at the center of the room. He introduces me to a dozen people, most of them business partners of his and their wives and/or girlfriends, their names and masked faces a blur.
I sip on my champagne, listening to them whisper gossip about the other elites with names I don’t recognize. Austin nods along with them affirmatively, but doesn’t join in the gossip; he fits into their world-his world-with ease, and all of them seem to adore him.
I keep smiling, trying to look like I belong here.
The moment my glass is empty, a tall woman with shoulder-length dark hair wearing a green dress—as if on cue—takes it from me with a smile and hands me a full one.
“There you go, darling,” she says, nudging beside an older gentleman with his back half-turned away from us. Both wear navy masks that cover their entire faces. “I just stole these from the cocktail waitress, and you looked like you could use it,” the woman continues.
“Thank you so much,” I reply.
“Are you Austin’s new girl?” The woman continues.
I take a sip. “I mean. I—”
“Yes. She’s with me,” Austin interjects, resting his hand on the small of my back. His dark eyes flash when they meet mine. Fire burns in my cheeks. Why is he saying that?
“Well, congratulations. Austin always has the loveliest girls,” she mutters before turning to walk away.
That’s all I am to them. His thing. His item to show off to the room. My stomach twists. I doubt any of them would even care to speak to me if I weren’t with him. Still, I try to keep up with who’s who, but there are too many names and no faces to go along with them. Only masks. Most of these people probably wear masks in their everyday lives, anyway.
Austin leans down, his lips close to my ear. “Let's dance,” he says, his voice soft.
I begrudgingly agree, knowing how important it is to keep up the appearance for him. We weave our way through the growing crowd to a large ballroom with ceilings and chandeliers higher and more spectacular than the foyer. Splashes of swirling red and gold lights dance over the floor and the masked crowd of people.
Austin tugs my arm, leading me onto the dance floor.
“What is this, Austin? What are you doing?” I ask when we reach the center of the dance floor.
“You'll see,” he says, putting his hands on my waist and leaning close to me. He whispers into my ear. “Let me know what you think.”
The music begins. A slow song. He wraps one hand around my back and takes my hand with his other as he sways his hips. “It's like a waltz,” he says.
“How did you learn how to do this?”
“High school. I went to a debutante ball,” he says.
“Of course, you did.”
He smiles. His dark and haunting features make it feel as though I'm dancing with the devil.
We dance together without speaking for several minutes, me just trying not to trip over his graceful moves.
“You're awfully quiet,” he says.
“I'm not sure what to say.”
A smile spreads across his face. “Whatever you’re thinking. You can always talk to me.”
“You know I can’t tell you everything I’m thinking, Austin. All things considered.”
He pulls me against him, chest to chest. “Stop overthinking everything, Livvy. Enjoy the evening.” He lifts me up and spins me around, my gown flowing in a circle around my legs. I wrap my arms around his neck as he twirls me around. My eyes lock on his, and I see a soft and vulnerable glimmer. A part of me wants to get lost in his gaze. But it's not real. How can I risk letting myself get lost in someone like him?
“What are you thinking?” he asks.
“You don't want to know.”
“Oh? But I do.”
“Just how beautiful this place is,” I lie. “What a wonderful party.”
I watch him, studying his features. I still can't believe I ended up here. As I get the hang of it, we move around the floor in almost perfect synchrony. He’s right. This dancing thing isn’t so hard. His hands are firm on my back, his hips rotating perfectly in time with mine. To others around us, I’m sure it looks as if he’s leading. But he’s not. He’s letting me move in my clumsy inexperienced way, and he’s following my moves. I look up into his dark eyes, searching for some hint of a soul.
When the song ends, he pulls me into him, whispering in my ear. “Come with me.”
We walk off the dance floor and through a set of glass double doors onto an expansive cobblestone terrace. A cool summer breeze fills the air, carrying with it the muffled sounds of the city in the distance. Tall stainless steel gas patio heaters are scattered around the terrace, strategically positioned to take the edge off the chilly breeze as it whips around the corner of the stately mansion. Only a few people are out here, though; most of the crowd remaining inside, drawn like moths to a flame by the music and the warm air. And the free-flowing alcohol.
Austin pulls me into an alcove, his hands on my waist.
“Aren't you supposed to be inside?” I ask, nervously. “Schmoozing?”
He nods his head. “Yes. But I don't need to be,” he says, pulling me into him. He smiles, kissing me tenderly on the lips. He glides his fingers through my hair, drawing me closer to him, until my lips part beneath his. He has a hold on me, his mouth moving against mine, his hands firm against my back.
In an instant, my hands are on his chest, pushing him away gently, but firmly. “Why did you bring me here?” I demand.
“Because I wanted to know if you still think I'm an asshole, a piece of shit.”
My tongue feels thick and my head heavy. Why is he asking me this right now? It's complicated. Of course I think he's a piece of shit, but maybe he’s not an asshole. He's something different. Something I can't quite figure out. He seems so nice right now. Sometimes, he's even sweet. And sometimes, he's a gentleman. But sometimes he is an asshole.
But he isn't always an asshole.
“I don't think you're an asshole,” I say. “At least not right now, anyway.”
“You don’t? Why not?”
“Because, I’m getting to know you. And it's not all of you. Asshole is just a part. A small one.”
He smiles, shaking his head. I stare into his eyes and all I see is darkness. I don’t know what he’s thinking, but I’m pretty sure it isn’t good.
“I know you’re afraid of me,” he says. “and that you don’t trust me.” He moves in closer, my back against the stone wall. I’m overwhelmed by the smell of his cologne. “I'm sorry about that,” he says.
My heart races and my skin prickles. He’s right, really. I don't know why, but I am scared.
He looks away, out over the terrace, and I feel a chill run through me. He's not like this all the time. He can be different when he wants to be. But, right now, I'm not sure what to believe. I stare at him. The whole situation is surreal. My head spins and I'm not sure if it's from the dancing or the alcohol. I try to focus on his eyes, but they seem so distant, like he's somewhere else entirely.
“Olivia?”
“Something isn't right,” I mumble. My heart races faster than ever. What’s happening? The terrace is spinning around me, and I stumble toward an empty chair next to the terrace railing, needing to sit down. My mind is foggy, and my thoughts are scrambled—what’s happening?
He's after me, but I can't say anything. I hear his voice but's its garbled and muffled.
Suddenly, I realize the answer—he drugged me.