Sweetest Venom
Page 54
The masquerade party is at the home of Alan Vanderhall, a family friend of Lawrence’s. Located in Greenwich, the majestic estate is something you only see in movies. The house manages to leave me open-mouthed, even though it is smaller than Lawrence’s mansion on Long Island. Where the hell are all these rich people coming from?
The road is illuminated with Japanese paper lanterns and the trees are wrapped in twinkling lights. It’s a beautiful sight to behold.
By the time we make it inside the house, I think that I must be dreaming a bright, colorful, and rich dream. As Lawrence removes my coat and hands it to the butler, I glance around the main hall, my eyes landing on crystal chandeliers shining like small constellations of stars, hundreds, no, thousands of flowers overflowing every nook and corner in the house, and an ocean of people hidden behind masks. There’s some sort of magic flowing through the halls of the house that makes my heart beat with excitement.
Lawrence is wearing a full mask depicting a Chinese Dragon. It’s a work of art with its colorful and intricate design. It puts my half mask of a black swan to shame, but then again, I doubt the existence of a man or woman who could obscure Lawrence’s magnificence.
The crowd seems to stop talking as they turn toward the entrance to take a better look at us. I can barely hear the orchestra playing its music above the mad beating of my heart. I half expect him to walk away from me like Walker did at the Met when he places his hand on my lower back, firmly and possessively.
Looking up in surprise, I find Lawrence already staring at me with those deep green, inscrutable eyes of his. “Come,” he orders. But when I hesitate, he adds more gently, “You don’t have anything to be afraid of. You’re with me. I won’t let you go.”
“I’m not scared,” I lie, lifting my chin. I can tell that he doesn’t believe me, and I hate the fact that he can see through my lies so easily.
His hand curves around my hip. “Come on, then. Show them what you’re made of.”
We stare at each other for a moment that seems to last an eternity. Giving in to his entreaty, I begin to walk with confidence. Regardless of his feelings toward me and what happened back at the townhouse, I’m sure of one thing: Lawrence means what he said. He won’t let me go, and the thought makes me feel safe.
He introduces me to his lawyer, Ben Stanwood, a man with the loveliest honey-colored eyes I’ve ever seen and who’s wearing a half mask depicting a panther. After we exchange some pleasantries, I excuse myself and go in search of a restroom.
On my way back, I see that Lawrence is occupied with a group of people. Giving him space, I go to the ballroom to watch couples dance to the music of the orchestra. There’s a pillar to the side, hidden behind some high-top cocktail tables covered in white linen, offering the perfect view of the dance floor. I walk toward it and recline my back and head on the marble stone. I’m lost in thought, watching a man and a woman dance to a slow song when someone comes to stand next to me. I feel his warmth before I hear his voice, and my treacherous pulse accelerates. He reaches for my hand and intertwines our fingers tightly together. In this manner, we stand together in comfortable silence, enjoying the music. When the song comes to an end, there’s a full, pregnant pause before he speaks.
“Dance with me?” he asks huskily. His question reminds me of another time when he uttered those same words, not so long ago. The memory makes my pulse spike.
I turn to face him, unable to refuse him. Lawrence removes our masks and leaves them on a nearby table. “This is better.” He caresses my cheek so tenderly it makes my heart ache. “I can see you now.”
He guides us to the middle of the dance floor, the crowd opening for us. My heart won’t stop drumming in my chest. He places my trembling left hand on his shoulder, clasps my right one in his left, and brings his free hand to circle my waist tightly, closing the gap between us. This close, I can feel the heat of his body against mine, smell the champagne on his breath, see the way his eyes devour my face, the ice slowly melting and making them shine warmly once again.
The road is illuminated with Japanese paper lanterns and the trees are wrapped in twinkling lights. It’s a beautiful sight to behold.
By the time we make it inside the house, I think that I must be dreaming a bright, colorful, and rich dream. As Lawrence removes my coat and hands it to the butler, I glance around the main hall, my eyes landing on crystal chandeliers shining like small constellations of stars, hundreds, no, thousands of flowers overflowing every nook and corner in the house, and an ocean of people hidden behind masks. There’s some sort of magic flowing through the halls of the house that makes my heart beat with excitement.
Lawrence is wearing a full mask depicting a Chinese Dragon. It’s a work of art with its colorful and intricate design. It puts my half mask of a black swan to shame, but then again, I doubt the existence of a man or woman who could obscure Lawrence’s magnificence.
The crowd seems to stop talking as they turn toward the entrance to take a better look at us. I can barely hear the orchestra playing its music above the mad beating of my heart. I half expect him to walk away from me like Walker did at the Met when he places his hand on my lower back, firmly and possessively.
Looking up in surprise, I find Lawrence already staring at me with those deep green, inscrutable eyes of his. “Come,” he orders. But when I hesitate, he adds more gently, “You don’t have anything to be afraid of. You’re with me. I won’t let you go.”
“I’m not scared,” I lie, lifting my chin. I can tell that he doesn’t believe me, and I hate the fact that he can see through my lies so easily.
His hand curves around my hip. “Come on, then. Show them what you’re made of.”
We stare at each other for a moment that seems to last an eternity. Giving in to his entreaty, I begin to walk with confidence. Regardless of his feelings toward me and what happened back at the townhouse, I’m sure of one thing: Lawrence means what he said. He won’t let me go, and the thought makes me feel safe.
He introduces me to his lawyer, Ben Stanwood, a man with the loveliest honey-colored eyes I’ve ever seen and who’s wearing a half mask depicting a panther. After we exchange some pleasantries, I excuse myself and go in search of a restroom.
On my way back, I see that Lawrence is occupied with a group of people. Giving him space, I go to the ballroom to watch couples dance to the music of the orchestra. There’s a pillar to the side, hidden behind some high-top cocktail tables covered in white linen, offering the perfect view of the dance floor. I walk toward it and recline my back and head on the marble stone. I’m lost in thought, watching a man and a woman dance to a slow song when someone comes to stand next to me. I feel his warmth before I hear his voice, and my treacherous pulse accelerates. He reaches for my hand and intertwines our fingers tightly together. In this manner, we stand together in comfortable silence, enjoying the music. When the song comes to an end, there’s a full, pregnant pause before he speaks.
“Dance with me?” he asks huskily. His question reminds me of another time when he uttered those same words, not so long ago. The memory makes my pulse spike.
I turn to face him, unable to refuse him. Lawrence removes our masks and leaves them on a nearby table. “This is better.” He caresses my cheek so tenderly it makes my heart ache. “I can see you now.”
He guides us to the middle of the dance floor, the crowd opening for us. My heart won’t stop drumming in my chest. He places my trembling left hand on his shoulder, clasps my right one in his left, and brings his free hand to circle my waist tightly, closing the gap between us. This close, I can feel the heat of his body against mine, smell the champagne on his breath, see the way his eyes devour my face, the ice slowly melting and making them shine warmly once again.
