the first train, but yes.”
“Fashionably late. Good thing the crowd here feels the same way.”
She smiles at me, and then her eyes go over my shoulder to the front door, where Pascal steps in. My heart thuds in my ears like a drum. We’re enough in the shadows that we’re mostly out of sight, and he doesn’t even glance this way, only toward the back doors, where two giggling girls in mounds of tulle and lace come out clutching their petticoats.
I watch him carefully, holding my breath. Pascal loses interest in the girls, even though they certainly know who he is. His mask might disguise his eyes—even his nose, in this case, since his is elaborately Venetian—but they recognize his chin. He gives them just a smug smile and heads up the staircase with them trailing behind, like ducks picking up bread crumbs.
I exhale slowly and glance at Sadie. She is also watching Pascal and has the most puzzled look on her face.
“What?” I ask her.
“Who was that?” she asks.
I groan. Why does everyone want to know Pascal? “That was my cousin. Pascal Dumont.”
“Oh,” she says, and I can tell she’s frowning underneath the mask. “I thought maybe I knew him from somewhere.”
“Well, you did say you had been stalking my family online. He’s definitely one of the so-called bad boys the press likes to cover.”
She gives me a sharp look. “So-called? Isn’t he the one your father and sister are always battling against?”
“Yes,” I say reluctantly. “He and my uncle. And the man who examined your ticket, that was my cousin Blaise.”
“The bad side of the family,” she muses softly.
Normally I would correct her, but I’ve pretty much been talking shit about them this whole time. And to be honest, it’s a little dicey with her not knowing the whole truth.
I want to tell her.
I just don’t know if I should do so here and now.
I’ve already been talking to her for too long.
“Can you make me a promise tonight?” I ask her, searching her eyes.
She nods and stares at me in such a way that I know she’ll keep any promise to me.
“Can you stay away from them? They aren’t good people, and I don’t trust them around you.”
“But they don’t know who I am,” she says. “Right?” Her words come out harsh, fearful.
“They don’t,” I assure her. “I just want to keep it that way. I’ve already been talking to you for too long as it is, and I need to get back to my father and the guests. Just promise me that you’ll stay away, and if for some reason they talk to you, give them nothing, and if you have to give them something, make it a lie. Okay? Make it a lie.”
“What’s going on, Olivier?” Her voice is quiet, almost trembling.
“I’ll explain later. That’s my promise to you. D’accord?”
She nods. “D’accord,” she whispers.
It takes everything in me to not kiss her on the cheek. “Enjoy the party, mon lapin. I’ll talk to you soon.”
Then I turn.
And I leave her.
The angel in the room of armor.
I wish I could encase her in all of it.
CHAPTER TWELVE
SADIE
I’ve never been to a masquerade ball before.
Or any ball, actually.
I went to my homecoming and my prom, but that doesn’t really count.
This is the type of ball you read about in historical novels and watch in sexy movies. It always looks so opulent and cool and fun.
And, well, it’s certainly the first two.
I mean, this is held in an actual legit castle.
And seeing all the costumes and everyone mingling with their masks on and the waiters coming around with drinks and tasty little weird things on silver trays, it’s definitely cool.
But fun? Well. This isn’t so much.
It probably has a lot to do with the fact that I don’t know anyone here except for Olivier, and he has to pretend to not know me. When I first accepted the chance to come here, I knew that was going to be part of the deal. That I would have to pretend to not know him, that I would remain an anonymous person. I thought I wouldn’t mind.
But I do. It sucks. I can’t help but watch his every move; my eyes are drawn to his movements like a moth to a flame. I watch as he talks to every guest, always charming, always smiling, always laughing as if the person he’s talking to said something hilarious, and I’m quite certain they didn’t.
He’s mine. That’s all I can think. He’s mine