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I turn around andflee.

My pulse shoots through the roof as I dash through the crowds. I don’t know why I’m running away. Maybe because deep down, I know if I stop, if he catches me, it’ll be over.

Or perhaps I sense the inevitable—the two of us burning in the flames of hell as we maul each other to death with lust, kisses, and passion bordering on violence.

The hickey on my neck throbs, a reminder of how easily it burned out of control last time. How I wanted to throw every rule in my rulebook out the window with the last person I should ever fall for.

And so I quicken my steps, weaving around ball goers, ignoring the loud whispers, the quiet moans and shivery whimpers in dark corners.

Away from him. The devil. My temptation.

My panting breaths are loud as I adjust the mask on my face. Every inch of me is attuned to the man hot on my heels.

I plow into someone, nearly toppling them over.

“S-Sorry.” I gasp, my pulse frantic now. I dodge into the hallway. How many hallways are inside this castle?

Thud. Thud. Thud.

I hear his heavy footsteps gaining on me, and I sneak a look over my shoulder. His eyes are dark and searing, his attention unwavering as he breaks into a run.

The crowd parts for him.

“Shit.” I pick up my skirts and sprint into the throngs of people, hoping I’ll disappear into the masses.

I need to find somewhere quiet. Somewhere I can hear myself think.

Somewhere I can slap some cold water onto my face and tell myself to wake the hell up.

Ignoring the open rooms filled with people, I check the closed doors one by one, finding them locked. Eventually, I arrive at a gilded door at the end of the hallway. I pull on the knob, thankful to find it unlocked, before slipping inside and closing the door behind me.

The room is quiet and dark with only the moonlight streaming in from the window on the far wall, the heavy drapes half opened.

I navigate the dark shapes—a settee of some sort, a coffee table, a bookshelf or a cabinet.

My breath still rattles out of me when I reach the window, finding a small courtyard outside. I close my eyes and rest my forehead against the glass, hoping the cool surface will wake me up.

Because every fiber inside me wants to find the maddening man to finish what we started in the closet.

This isn’t you, Olivia.

But is that true?

Haven’t I been aching to break free of everything? The good daughter syndrome, the forgotten twin, the person who’s living life and yet…not really living?

Opposing thoughts clash in my mind and I focus on my breathing.

Calm. Calm yourself.

My insides are so chaotic, I don’t even notice anything’s wrong until it’s too late.

I feel his heat behind me before he tugs me flushed against him, his arms unforgiving.

“Got you,” he rasps.

My eyes snap open and I take in our reflections—a masked, dark-haired man with intense eyes slowly dipping his head over a masked woman with raven hair. We look like extras from a historical piece—arich man with a courtesan, two people sneaking around in dark nooks, as forbidden back then as they are today.

Like Duke Orsino and Viola from Shakespeare’sTwelfth Night. But does he know this disguise, this seductive siren, isn’t me?