Chapter 27
Elise's POV
The car had been driving for about forty minutes.
I'd tried to talk to him the whole way, asking him how these past few days had been, asking if he was still angry—but he remained silent throughout, his gaze fixed straight ahead, his hands gripping the steering wheel so tightly that his knuckles had gone slightly white.
The scenery outside the window grew increasingly desolate.
First came the city's skyscrapers, then the suburban highways, and finally a winding coastal road. The streetlights along the roadside became fewer and fewer, until only the car's headlights illuminated the asphalt ahead.
The sound of waves crashing against the shore drifted faintly through the air.
An ornate iron gate appeared ahead.
Liam lowered his window and displayed something to the camera at the entrance—possibly facial recognition, possibly some kind of access pass—and the gate slid open silently.
The car proceeded along a driveway lined with palm trees.
Three minutes later, a white villa came into view.
Two stories, modern style, with expansive floor-to-ceiling windows. Every window glowed with warm yellow light, and I could faintly hear music—not the kind of noisy electronic beats, but low, rhythmic jazz or blues.
Several cars were already parked outside.
Mercedes, Porsches, Ferraris... even the cheapest-looking one appeared to cost at least six figures.
Liam stopped the car and turned off the engine.
Then he turned his head to look at me.
I couldn't see his face clearly beneath the mask, but I could feel him studying me.
He didn't answer, just pushed open the car door and got out.
I hesitated for a second, then followed suit.
The sea breeze hit my face, carrying a salty, fishy scent. There was no moon in the night sky, only sparse stars scattered overhead. In the distance lay the pitch-black ocean, waves rhythmically beating against the rocks.
Liam walked to my side and naturally took my hand.
His palm felt somewhat cold, even stiff.
Perhaps he was still angry—I couldn't say. I squeezed his hand in return, hoping that at least today, I wouldn't make him unhappy again.
We walked toward the villa's entrance.
The door stood open.
A man in a black uniform stood at the entrance, his face also covered by a mask—white with gold patterns, matching mine. He nodded to Liam, his gaze lingering on me for just a moment before he stepped aside to let us pass.
We walked inside.
---
The hall was more... lively than I'd imagined.
There were many people.
At least thirty or forty, scattered throughout various corners of the hall. Men and women, all wearing masks of every variety—Venetian, Japanese-style, animal-shaped, plain white without decoration. Their clothing was equally diverse: some wore formal evening wear, others only lingerie, and still others draped themselves in thin silk that revealed the bodies beneath in teasing glimpses.
A strange smell permeated the air.
Perfume, alcohol, and something else—something sweet and cloying that made my head spin.
The music emanated from speakers hidden in the walls, its rhythm slow and viscous, like some kind of melting syrup.
I froze in place, completely unprepared for this to be the kind of party Liam had mentioned.
I looked up at him in disbelief. Liam's expression remained cold, though his eyes held a hint of mockery.
He tilted his head slightly to look at me. "Scared?"
I felt my scalp tighten, my throat constrict. I didn't like this place at all.
Whether it was the smell, the color of the lighting, or the cacophony of noise, everything made me feel suffocated and nauseous.
But what concerned me more at this moment was why Liam had brought me here.
I shook my head gently, my answer to his question.
Liam revealed a faint smile and led me further inside, his hand still holding mine.
I began to notice the details around us—
On the sofa, two people were entangled together, their movements so suggestive that no words were needed to explain what they were doing.
By the bar, a woman leaned against a man's chest, holding a drink of a disturbing color, her eyes glazed as she smiled vacantly.
On the carpet in front of the floor-to-ceiling windows, three or four people sat in a circle, with several neat rows of small bags in the center containing white or colored powder.
Someone was laughing.
The sound was low, mixed with gasps and moans.
My steps slowed.
"Liam..."
I called his name, my voice tight.
He didn't stop. Instead, he tightened his grip on my hand and pulled me forward a little.
"Don't be afraid," he said.
His tone was terrifyingly calm.
Just then, the crowd in the center of the hall suddenly parted to create a path.
A shirtless man wearing a red devil mask emerged, leading two women by the hand—they wore only lingerie, their faces bearing that hollow, hypnotized smile.
The man scanned the entire room, his gaze pausing momentarily when it reached me.
Then he laughed.
"New face?" His voice was hoarse, carrying an uncomfortable familiarity. "Sterling brought her?"
Liam nodded slightly at him but said nothing.
"Nice." The man's gaze slid from my exposed shoulders down to my waist and then to my legs, as if appraising merchandise. "Very beautiful. Does she play?"
My stomach lurched violently.
"Liam." I tugged at his hand forcefully, finally unable to hold back. "I want to leave. What is this place?"
Everyone around us was watching.
Those eyes behind the masks were like a pack of wolves waiting for prey.
No one spoke.
Only the music continued, that viscous, nauseating low rhythm.
Liam finally turned his head and looked down at me.
The mask covered most of his face, but I could see his lips—he was smiling.
Not that warm kind of smile.
But rather... a satisfied, savoring kind of smile.
"Elise," he said, his voice gentle as if coaxing a child, "didn't you say you loved me?"
"This has nothing to do with love—"
"Then prove it to me."
His hand released my wrist and instead cupped my chin, forcing me to look up at him.
The rhinestones on his mask glittered under the lights, cold and hard.
"Stay here," he said. "Keep me company."
Low laughter rippled through the crowd around us.
Those laughs pierced my ears like needles.
I saw the woman closest to me—she was leaning against the armrest of a sofa, her mask askew, revealing half her face. Her pupils were unnaturally dilated, her mouth hanging in a numb, almost idiotic smile. A man was sliding his hand inside her lingerie, and she showed no reaction, as if she'd long grown accustomed to it.
My stomach churned.
Nausea.
Extreme, visceral nausea that threatened to expel everything inside me.
"Is this what you want?"
My voice was shaking.
I realized that Liam hadn't asked me out to reconcile our relationship at all.
Quite the opposite—this was his punishment for a disobedient pet.