Her shock is clear, and I can’t help but smile.
“All mine.” With a wink, I push open my door, as Hank pulls open Nesrin’s. We meet at the pathway toward the entrance, as she slides her arm through mine.
The perfect couple.
And a perfectly formed lie.
29
Nesrin
When I have a second to really take in the building before us, I’m astounded that it really does look like a castle. The windows are small; yet, they offer up yellow light that streams outward.
Each turret has a darkened hole where I can imagine you would get an impeccable view. Along the second floor are two long balconies that overlook the driveway, which I’m guessing come from a couple of bedrooms.
Built with dark brick, it reminds me of the historic castles in Scotland. Most of them are falling apart, merely ruins, but this one is immaculate. The door is a large archway drenched in golden light, as two butlers stand on either side receiving guests with a smile.
Damien and I adorn our masks; he helps me fasten a bow behind my head. He leans in, allowing the warmth of his breath to slide over me.
“I’m going to kill Cassian for allowing you to buy this dress,” he whispers suddenly. “And then I’m going to punish you for wearing it.” His promise has my stomach flip-flopping at the thought.
“You don’t own me, Damien.” I turn to smile at him, my mask firmly in place, but I know he can see the confidence in my eyes.
“We’ll see about that,” he hisses under his breath, but grins as if nothing is wrong. He places his fingers at the base of my spine, causing my skin to tingle at the contact, as we make our way through the entrance into a breathtaking foyer.
The floors are tiled with patterns better suited for a church. The ceiling is high, with a painting that would make Leonardo Da Vinci jealous. And a chandelier that reminds me of golden champagne flutes hanging above us.
Everything glitters. But doesn’t the saying go, all that glitters isn’t gold.
We’re led through the house, out toward a dining hall that has been set up with a table that looks to seat at least twenty people, probably more, but my attention is captured by three young men standing on the patio, just outside the large glass doors.
Wealth drips from them. The Havens. The girls, who loiter just behind them, are drenched in priceless jewels. The men in expensive tailored suits and the women in designer-cut dresses.
Style.
Beauty.
Money.
“I think you’re far more beautiful than any female in this place,” Damien whispers, conspiratorially, in my ear. He looks like the epitome of a playboy. Perfectly styled black hair and ice-blue eyes. His charcoal suit fits him like a glove, with a crisp white shirt that doesn’t have a single crease. The tie he’s wearing is a striking blue that matches my dress, and I have a feeling that Cassian had a hand in picking it out.
“Only the females?” I challenge him with a grin.
“Don’t get sassy with me,” Damien murmurs, as he pulls two glasses of champagne from a tray. He hands me mine, and then we head toward the rest of the guests, who seem to be milling around; some talking in groups, others in couples.
“Where are Cass and Finn?” I ask, glancing at Damien, who looks handsome with the silver mask covering half his face. It reminds me of a Phantom of the Opera mask. He doesn’t look at me. It’s the same way he acted in the car, which has me on alert that something is wrong. One thing about him was that he was always forthcoming in either noticing me or talking to me. But there’s been a shift, and I can’t quite put my finger on what’s going on.
Music filters from speakers that I can’t see, as couples move toward a makeshift dancefloor in the middle of the garden. They get close, holding onto each other, and for a moment, I wish Damien would ask me to dance, but he’s not even paying attention.
“Could I ask you for a dance, young lady?” The question comes from one of the guests dressed solely in black, including a mask.
“She’s with me.”
“I didn’t think you’d mind, since you don’t seem to be wanting to dance,” the man tells Damien, and the prickly feeling I’m getting from beside me makes me nervous. I don’t think he’ll start a fight, but Damien and I haven’t really been out, unless you count the