Page 50 of Heir of the Beast

With another spin, I am close enough to see people in masks talking, drinking, and laughing. I bite my lip when I am twirled again. At this rate, I will need to dance all night to get a clear view.

I spin again and see Laura in a gorgeous lavender gown, of course. Charming doesn’t do anything that is not breathtaking. But, I will say, mine is better.

In my humble opinion.

She is walking on the arm of a masked man who is definitely not Apollo—maybe a cousin? Looks like he is leading her to the large dance floor.

My heart skips a beat when I see a wine glass just sitting on a glass table where she came from. Is it hers?

I would have to get closer for a better look. I pray it has lipstick on the glass that matches the pink on Laura’s lips.

I also see almost all the occupants of the royal family’s box descending to the dance floor.

The dance stops.

I frown as I glance around.

Everyone, including my dance partner, starts clapping. I glance in front of me and see Laura laughing and clapping, and to her left is the magnificent Apollo Augustus Garthorn.

I suck in a harsh breath, realizing I’m close—too close.

I happen to be at the front of the dance crowd by chance, which is not ideal. I’m terrified Laura will recognize me and call me out in front of everyone.

And with that thought, I try to scoot back as best as I can but to no avail. It is drawing more attention to me.

Apparently, the royal families will participate in a dance, and everyone is honoring them, from what I gather. My mind is in panic mode.

My eyes take in Apollo, who is laughing at what someone said.

He looks like a version of Zorro with his plain metal mask and dark attire. The buttons at his neck are undone, and his billowy back dress shirt is making me feel lightheaded.

Did Apollo ever look bad?! Never in his life probably.

I feel bad for the other normal looking men standing around Apollo. It is like seeing Jason Momoa standing next to Zack from ~Saved by the Bell~.

His muscled thighs are well displayed in his tight gray pants, showing every bulge, ehem, of muscle.

My cheeks heat, and I curse, looking away, not wanting my gaze to travel to the family jewels, which appear to be quite impressive.

~Get a grip, Viola.~

When I glance back, my whole body freezes. Apollo’s dark gaze is currently inspecting my yellow gown with an expression I can’t read. ~It’s normal~, I tell myself. The gown is, in fact, stunning.

I take a big breath and shift, looking away like I don’t notice. I most likely just drew attention to my impressive cleavage—no more big breaths, idiot.

La-la-la-la, just another average girl with an amazing dressmaker. Nothing to see here.

I feel my dance partner put my arm in his like he is staking claim from Apollo. ~Please~.

I roll my eyes and slowly glance back to find Apollo still staring at me. He can’t see my eyes, but I can see his, and they are definitely homed in on me.

He raises his chin and tilts his head a little, expression somewhat stony and indifferent. It’s so hard to tell with him in that silver mask. I’m sick with nerves, wondering desperately what he is thinking.

Why on Earth did Pierce put me in such a bright dress?! Now I’m regretting wearing this masterpiece of a gown. I need to get out of here, or at least out of Apollo’s view, before I blow my cover.

I feel like I can’t breathe. Suffocation.

I mentally slap myself. I need to stay calm and stop being awkward.

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