Chapter 52
The moment our eyes met, my pulse did that traitorous flutter.
Before I could decipher the meaning behind Octavius's gaze, Brielle grabbed my arm hard.
Caught off guard, I stumbled as she dragged me directly in front of Octavius and Quinlan.
"Mr. Capulet, Ms. Powell, good evening!" Brielle's smile was all innocence, her voice sickeningly sweet.
Octavius's gaze landed on me—light, casual, dismissive.
I couldn't help meeting his eyes.
But he immediately looked away, as if I wasn't worth his attention.
My chest tightened.
What was going on?
"The Powell and Whitaker families have never exactly been close. Where did you get your invitations?" Quinlan asked with a pointed half-smile.
Her words weren't polite. Weren't friendly.
I could tell Quinlan simply didn't want me here—this had nothing to do with Brielle.
Brielle smiled brightly. "Your grandmother, Mrs. Flora Powell, had them sent over. Don't you remember, Ms. Powell? Earlier this year when she wasn't feeling well, my father recommended that assisted living facility."
"Oh. Right." Quinlan's smile faded, and she said nothing more.
"I was planning to come solo."
Brielle clung to my arm like we were besties. "But Seraphine went out somewhere last night and didn't come home. I missed her so much, I figured we could hit this party together."
Her words clearly implied I'd been out doing God knows what.
Octavius looked at me, his tone loaded with meaning. "Where were you?"
I glanced up in surprise. He already knew the answer—what was his game?
Was he trying to establish distance? Make it clear we weren't connected?
I swallowed hard. "At a friend's place."
Octavius's eyes darkened, his jaw clenched tight, radiating displeasure.
Just then, Brielle suddenly reached over.
"Seraphine, your hair's a mess! Let me fix it!"
Playing the helpful friend, she reached for the loose strands by my ear.
As her fingers brushed past, she deliberately tugged my collar down.
The skin on my neck met the cool air.
Both Quinlan and Octavius's eyes dropped to my exposed throat.
My heart stopped. I immediately shoved Brielle's hand away. "Don't touch my clothes."
"Seraphine, what happened? You definitely didn't have this yesterday."
Brielle frowned, her tone dripping with false concern.
Octavius's gaze intensified, locked on the side of my neck.
He didn't speak right away. His eyes held a cold, scrutinizing look—like he was furious.
Octavius stared into my eyes, seemingly waiting for an explanation. Or maybe confirming something.
Quinlan covered her mouth, eyes wide with manufactured shock. "Ms. Whitaker, is that an allergic reaction? Or..."
Before she could finish, Brielle eagerly threw gasoline on the fire. "Right? Seraphine, that doesn't look like a mosquito bite! You were totally fine when we split up yesterday."
Watching Octavius stay silent and brooding, my heart sank like a stone.
He didn't want this brought up, did he?
After all, Quinlan is still nearby and he doesn't want her to know what happened to us last night.
If it wasn't because he cared about Quinlan, I couldn't think of any other reason why Octavius would stay silent and pissed off.
Humiliation washed over me.
I turned away from Octavius's penetrating stare and said calmly, "It's nothing. Just a mosquito bite. Sorry, excuse me for a sec. Need to say hi to someone."
I made my escape and disappeared into the crowd.
Even with my back turned, I could feel that ice-cold gaze burning into me.
I quickened my pace, losing myself among the guests, forcing small talk with a few socialites I knew.
The whole time, stealing glances through the crowd, Octavius remained glued to Quinlan's side—playing the devoted boyfriend, helping her host Flora's birthday celebration.
I couldn't take it anymore. Needing to catch my breath, I headed toward the restroom.
I'd barely made it into the dim, quiet hallway when a large hand suddenly shot out and grabbed my wrist.
I let out a small gasp as I was yanked into the nearby stairwell.
The lighting was even worse here.
My back slammed against cold marble. I couldn't make out who was in front of me, but that familiar clean scent hit me first.
Octavius.
Yesterday I'd been drowning in this scent. When the drug clouded my mind, I'd used this scent alone to confirm that the person with me was Octavius.
Remembering last night's wild encounter, my face burst into flames. I couldn't meet his eyes.
"What are you doing?"
Octavius stepped closer, his tall frame looming over me.
He trapped me in the corner, radiating barely controlled anger.
Octavius lowered his head, his devastatingly handsome face inches from mine, his eyes churning with emotions I couldn't decode.
"A mosquito bite?" His voice was harsh, laced with pressure, each word forced through gritted teeth. "You're really good at making shit up."
My body went rigid, my fingertips trembling with nerves.
What exactly was Octavius so angry about?
Before I could sort through my thoughts, Octavius had already lifted my chin, his tone commanding and distant. "What happened last night—forget it."
Forget it?
So he'd cornered me here not out of concern, not to take responsibility.
Just to warn me. To make me forget that accident and not use it as leverage to cling to him.
My heart ached.
Right.
I was the one who'd thrown myself at Octavius. I was the one who refused to go to the hospital and insisted Octavius help me through it.
I caused this mess.
This whole thing meant nothing to Octavius.
I fought to stay composed and forced out a cooperative smile, nodding quickly.
"Okay, got it. Nothing happened last night. I absolutely won't breathe a word to anyone, and I definitely won't use this to... to bother you."
I agreed readily, looking at Octavius hopefully.
That should satisfy him, right?
But Octavius didn't wear the satisfied expression I'd expected.
Instead, he stared at me, his eyes filled with disappointment I couldn't understand, his hand slowly releasing my chin.
After what felt like forever, he finally forced out a sentence. "Seraphine, you really are heartless!"
With that, Octavius abruptly let go—as if touching me one more second was unbearable—turned, and strode away without looking back.
I stood frozen, stunned by his cryptic words.
What the hell did Octavius mean?
He told me to forget it. I agreed. And he got even angrier?
Did he want me to cry and beg him to take responsibility?
But he clearly...
My thoughts were a tangled mess, my chest aching with confusion.
Instinctively, I wanted to chase after him and demand answers. But the moment I walked out of the stairwell, a figure blocked my path.
Quinlan.
Her face showed no trace of friendliness, her eyes cold, radiating undisguised hostility.
I frowned and took a step back, glancing behind her.
Octavius was already gone—must have headed downstairs.
"Seraphine."
Quinlan stepped forward, blocking my view, her expression unpleasant.
"Last night—was Octavius with you?"