Filed to story: I Slept With My Ex's Father (Olivia & Dylan) Book PDF Free
Now Swan has gone and flipped the script. Maybe it’s what I deserve. To be abandoned, not only by my boy, but a strange enchantress in the night too.
“Never mind,” I say, coldness sliding through my veins. “Take me to him, Seth.”
OLIVIA POV
I stumble into the women’s bathroom, clutching at my chest to catch my breath.
What. The hell. Was that?
That man. His touch. His voice. His body.
My god.
Being in his arms was like some sort of drug, except I’m not sure you can get anything like that, even in the blackest of markets.
It’s why I had to run away. All the way upstairs. As far as I could go without outright leaving. I wasn’t sure I’d be able to control myself if I stayed a moment longer.
“Warm towel?”
I look over at the bathroom attendant, who is a smiley woman, hidden behind a mask made of flower petals. God, what is the theme tonight anyway? Things you find in nature? This is ridiculous! “No, I’m good. I’m just…hot.”
“Mm. Here. You need a wipe.” She holds out a little wipe packet to me, her smile never fading for a second.
“Thank you.”
“Here, sit, sit. Take a rest.” She guides me to a poofy ottoman in the middle of the room and sits me down.
I feel like I’m some sort of nineteenth-century maiden, the way she’s treating me. As if I can’t stand upright and might suffer a fainting spell anytime now.
Once I’m settled on the ottoman, I split open the packaging on the wipe and pat my face and neck. The cool, cucumber-melon-infused wipe brings down the heat level inside me. Thank god.
When I’m done, I take stock of my surroundings for the first time.
The bathroom is just as lush and beautiful as every other part of the club.
Why am I not surprised?
Gilded crown molding, marble sinks, crimson carpet, mirrors that I swear you could step through to walk centuries into the past.
I could stay here the rest of the night.
And I just might if it will help me stay out of the gaze of the Phoenix.
Don’t get me wrong, I want him. I was dancing with him after all, letting our bodies drift closer and closer together until we all but became one.
However. That’s not why I’m here.
That man doesn’t look like a mere guest of the club. He walks around like owns the place. I don’t want him to spread rumors about the unprofessional manager to other members.
But just because we can’t see the top half of everyone’s face doesn’t mean we wouldn’t be able to recognize them in the light of day.
The attendant touches my hand. “You can take off your mask.” She has a kind smile. “I won’t tell.”
That might be just what I need. Sweat is building up under the layer of the mask.
Whoever made these cares much more about the aesthetic and less about how it feels to wear them.
“Thank you.” I slide the mask up over my face. And just like that, I can breathe again. The air cools my skin. I pad the sweat away with the wipe. “Gets stuffy in there, doesn’t it?”
From behind me, a toilet flushes.
As I turn around, another maskless woman emerges. She smiles when she sees me, eyes widening. “It’s you!”
I point to myself, looking between her and the attendant. “M-me?”
She giggles and goes to wash her hands. “I’ve been seeing you around, wondering who the hell you are.”
Her eyes flick up to meet mine in the mirror, an astonishing combination of blue and green. Pouty lips, pert nose, big eyes. She’s the definition of everything I’ve ever wanted to look like.
The only thing we have in common is our dark hair, although hers is closer to brown than black.
Mine is raven, through and through.
“Oh. I’m Olivia-” I throw my hand over my mouth. “Shit, I wasn’t supposed to tell you that.”
The woman turns around, throwing her head back with laughter. Her lilac dress floats around her like she’s some fairy princess. “It’s okay, it’s just the two of us. And Glenda.”
Glenda holds a paper towel out to the woman.
She takes it and wipes her hands. “I’m Bridget.”
“Nice to meet you.” I smile at her.
“You as well.” Instead of wafting toward the door in her beautiful gown, she comes over and takes a seat beside me on the big, round ottoman, holding up her mask. “It can be so stifling out there in these, huh?”
I nod. “I didn’t even realize how sweaty my face was until I sat down.”
“Mm…” Bridget eyes my mask. “You got a nice one.”
“What’s yours?”
She holds up her mask, showing off a green and brown mask with sticks jutting off of it. “I think it’s a dryad…”
“Okay, that’s it. I’m totally lost. What is the theme supposed to be?!”
Bridget laughs. “Hans Christian Andersen fairytales, but it turns out there are a lot of them and most are just plain weird.” Bridget drops her mask into her lap.
I can tell she comes from money, not just by the quality of her clothes, but by that action alone.
I wouldn’t dare drop this mask for fear I might ruin it.
For her, this is just another year, another masquerade ball.
Although, if all goes my way, this is my first of many to come.
“Anyway, I saw you getting cozy on the dance floor.” Bridget smirks.
My face gets hot again, this time without the mask. “Oh, god. I didn’t realize I was sticking out so much.”
“Well, you look like an angel out there amidst all the black and gray. Hard to miss you.”
Fucking great.
She pats my hand. “Don’t look so sour, it’s a compliment.”
“Thanks.” I smile. “Your dress is nice too.”
Bridget shrugs. “Eh, it’s a bit out of season.”
“Right.” I try not to portray how humorous I find her passé attitude. If I had dresses like that in my closet, I’d feel like a queen.
“Anyway, who did you come with?”
I look at Glenda who is minding her beeswax in the corner and then back at Bridget. “Can I tell you a secret?”
“Oooh! I love secrets.” She claps her hands and leans in, her full focus on me.
With all the confidentiality of a CIA agent, I whisper, “I’m actually the new operations manager.”
Bridget grabs my arm as if we’ve been friends for years. “No wonder you stick out! You’re new here!”
“Yeah, exactly.”
“Well, I hope I’ve made a good impression. I’m Bridget Vance. My dad, Solomon, is very involved here at the club. So, I’m sure you’ll meet him soon. And don’t worry, he’s not nearly as stodgy as some of the old guys around here. He’s as friendly as they come.”
My heart warms. “That’s good to know.”
“Anyway, I don’t work here, so if you ever need someone to complain about all the goings on around here, you should text me. Here, give me your number.”
I might be hesitant toward getting physical with a member of the club, but surely making a friend wouldn’t hurt. I give Bridget my number.
