42. Masquerade #2
Tuning her out, I glanced over her shoulder to the spot where Delane was before. To my dismay, she was not by the punch bowl any longer. My mind began to swiftly take a turn for the worst. Has Silas seen her?
Is Silas even here?
Of course he would be here, I answered my own question angrily. Just yesterday, I had told him that I was attending a family “thing” today and couldn’t hang out with him. Silas would show up out of spite, I thought darkly. I knew his temper. He was going to be so fucking pissed.
And if he saw Delane…
“Mom, I gotta go,” I said, relinquishing her hand and making my way back through the crowd.
“Are you sure that you’re okay?” she called out.
I didn’t answer.
DELANE
Everyone was dancing so beautifully.
I watched from afar, admiring the canvas of waltzing colors and people in their camouflage.
It was a dance of deception, I realized.
The Masquerade was so inquisitive—you were seen but not known.
It was oddly enjoyable and made me feel more confident about being there around so many others.
I couldn’t help but be amazed by the peculiar way of the dancers.
I wondered who created this type of party, dancing while hiding your face behind a mask.
I sipped my punch as the latest song ended, and observed the people formally thank their dancing partners with a courtesy or bow. I fidgeted. It was such a formal event, I suddenly feared that my dress was no match to any others, let alone my formalities.
“Well, now. Look who it is.”
I jumped slightly and turned to the voice from behind me.
“You look very pretty tonight, Delane.” Damian Hansen spoke with a smile.
“T-Thank you,” I blurted out, trying to feebly present him with a compliment as well. “Y-You look very pretty as well.”
I nearly keeled over in embarrassment.
“I meant HANDSOME!” I shouted, covering my face. “Oh my god, I’m sorry.”
Damian chuckled. “It’s fine, Delane. No need to present me with respects. You are a guest here, so please, make yourself at home and have fun.”
“Thank you…” I said with a smile.
“May I ask you for a dance?” he asked kindly, extending his hand out to me.
“Certainly!” I replied, trying to remember all of the steps Noah just taught me a few minutes ago. Damian took my hand, kissed it, and before he could lead me out to the dance floor, stopped suddenly at his name being called.
“Damian.”
The tone was so rigid it made the hairs on the back of my neck stand on end. I turned around swiftly, hitting a tall man that looked very much like Damian and Noah alike.
Looking deep into his eyes, I felt a familiar feeling of dread form a tight knot in my stomach. I had never seen this man before, but the thought of standing next to him any longer made my heart hammer against the walls of my chest in fear. Who was this?
“Excuse me, s-sir…” I stammered, curtseying and stepping back, closer to Damian.
The man completely ignored my presence, having interest only for the person he had called to.
“Damian now is not the time for dancing. We have to finish thanking all of the guests.” His tone was austere and rough. On the outside this man looked perfectly calm, but his voice gave off the impression that he was furious.
“Yes, sir. I understand. I was just coming,” Damian answered with a nod, straightening his collar and taking a step towards the unknown male. He left me there without saying much, which I thought was a strange thing to do, knowing how professionally Damian presents himself.
I just sort of stood there awkwardly.
“Wait, Damian.” The man’s hand stopped Damian from moving forward. His eyes fixed upon mine, and I stiffened underneath his hardhearted gaze. “Who’s your friend?”
Damian stopped and looked back to me over his shoulder. He seemed indecisive about something.
I could do nothing but stare at him for some sort of direction. What was I supposed to do? Do I introduce myself?
“You’re in such a hurry,” the man said with an eerie smile. “You forgot to introduce me to your lovely young lady here.”
“Pardon my rudeness,” Damian mumbled softly, stepping back to stand by me.
He smiled weakly, taking my hand again. “Delane, this is my father, Chief David Hansen.”
I stared at him, mesmerized. Mr. Hansen took my hand from his son’s and placed a gentle kiss upon it.
“It’s my pleasure to meet you,” Mr. Hansen affirmed, releasing my hand as quickly as he had taken it. “But I must say, I did not know that my son had a girlfriend.”
Damian shook his head. “Father, you misunderstood—”
David extended his arm once more to silence him. “Hush, son, and let me speak with her. I’m sure you two have spent enough time together already.”
Damian and I were both at a complete loss for words. That his father would even consider me to be of Damian’s status enough to be in a relationship with him astounded me. I was somewhat flattered, but mostly stunned.
“So, how long have you two been together?” he asked with a smile.
I finally found my voice. “Um, I’m very sorry Mr. Hansen, but I am not dating Damian…”
He looked at me skeptically. “My apologies,” he said quickly. “Well then, who have you accompanied here?”
“Noah Hansen, your youngest,” I replied meekly.
He looked dumbfounded. “Excuse me?”
“I uh– I’m here with your son? Noah invited me to this dance…”
I shifted uncomfortably between the two wealthy family members. Where had Noah run off to? It seemed as though I had been waiting far too long for his return.
After a moment of staring at me, Mr. Hansen’s mystified expression faded away and in its place was a new smile. “Yes, Noah. Of course.”
I glanced at Damian. He looked like he was about to be sick. I swallowed nervously, wondering: Was it something that I said?
“Well, it was very nice to meet you, Delane,” Mr. Hansen chuckled, giving me a little dip of his head. “But my son and I must be off now. Business calls.”
I nodded. “Yes, please don’t let me interrupt you.”
He turned his back to us. “Not to worry, dear. I won’t.”
Damian gave me one last regretful look before following close behind his father. And I was alone. Again.
I took a leisurely sip of my punch after letting go of a breath I had been holding for too long.
So that was Noah’s father.
“I uh– I’m here with your son?”
He acted like I was insane. Like he had never heard the name Noah before.
“It was my father. We were in an altercation last night…”
Had Noah really been telling the truth when he had told me that? I trembled as I remembered the huge gash that had been beneath Noah’s eye. Was it possible for a parent to do that?
Could someone be that cruel?