Deadly Secrets

Chapter 53: The End

"I don't technically live here," he said absentmindedly, staring straight ahead. He snaked an arm around her waist and pulled her to him, nearly making her misstep again. "Why, you wanted to go somewhere more...private?"

Zara squirmed away, shaking his arm off, and flipped her hair over a shoulder without breaking her stride. "Stop insinuating things. It was one kiss, don't get too caught up with yourself."

The look he tossed her was so potent, she could feel it without having to turn her head. "I'm not. I'm caught up with you—wouldn't have suggested it otherwise."

"Let's agree to disagree," Zara said quickly, reaching out to take his hand. Arguing with him was like fighting a losing battle. He always found a way to flip your words to victimise himself, leaving you with the urge to head-bang a wall.

At the end of the vaulted corridor was a large archway, decorated with the same floral pattern Zara had seen throughout the rest of the mansion. On the other side was a brightly-lit hall, and in the distance, she caught a glimpse of the other guests: a few stood around in tightly-knit groups, others roamed the place mindlessly.

"Don't feel compelled to answer every question they throw at you." Max had increased his pace somewhere during his statement, pulling her along the same way a parent did with a toddler, so she now struggled to keep up with him. His sudden agitation was putting her on edge as well, but she didn't question it.

They entered the hall, and it was like they were thrown under a spotlight. Everybody's eyes were suddenly on them.

"Why are they staring at us?" Zara asked through gritted teeth, unable to smile at the people who were now whispering. She squeezed Max's hand again, her forehead perspiring even at room temperature.

"Maybe because of my sling. But they've also never seen me at an event with a woman before, so that's a pretty big thing. It could be anything, really, these morons will find anything to gossip about. " She looked up at him, startled, and noticed that he was scanning the crowd, a solemn look on his face.

Who is he looking for?

She also began looking around, out of curiosity rather than with a specific goal in mind.

All the men, of different heights and widths, wore suits similar to Max's, just in different shades of black and blue. They all looked either middle-aged, or relatively aged, and it was soon clear to her that Max was the youngest male in the room. Only one man stood out against the ocean of blacks and blues, and it was because his suit was a stark contrast to the others. The colour of cream, which complemented his nest of black curly hair, caught her attention—and there was something about his eccentricity that had Zara's eyes glued to him, even though the man had his back to her.

The women were a different story, their outfits seemed picked out of fashion magazines. Each and every one of their evening gowns had a distinct style, it's own story to tell. They were so captivating, with their perfect posture, or even their comportment, that Zara felt even more of an impostor than she already did.

It was like taking a step back in time, in an era where a country's social hierarchy had distinct qualities and features that distinguished one class from the other. She felt inadequate, an abomination, and it had only taken a couple of stares and murmurs in a language she didn't understand.

You don't belong with these people and you know that.

It was a mistake coming here in the first place, you should come up with an excuse so you can leave and go back to where you belong.

They probably pity you. You're a bird in burrowed feathers, a crow pretending to be a peacock.

Max abruptly pulled her away from the entrance and towards a relatively isolated corner of the room, and Zara soon felt her heart rate slowing.