The Forbidden Throb Chapter 22

Emma's POV:

I hesitated, worrying my bottom lip between my teeth.

After everything that had happened recently—the hospital stay, the humiliating breakup—I just couldn't muster any enthusiasm.

"I don't know, Liv... I'm not really in the mood."

"Too late!" Olivia announced with a triumphant smile. "I already signed us both up."

My eyes widened. "You what?"

"I put our names on the list," she said, completely unapologetic. "You need to get out, Em. Staying cooped up in this dorm is only going to make you more stressed out."

I groaned, falling back against my pillows.

She wasn't wrong, but the thought of dressing up and pretending to have fun felt exhausting. "But I don't even have a costume. Halloween is *tomorrow*."

"That," Olivia declared, standing up and marching to her closet, "is absolutely not a problem."

She began rummaging through her extensive wardrobe, pushing hangers aside with purpose.

"I've been dying to give you a makeover for ages. This is the perfect opportunity."

I watched as she pulled out a garment bag and unzipped it with a flourish, revealing a cascade of shimmering blue fabric that caught the light from our desk lamps.

"Ta-da!" she sang out. "My princess gown from last year's theater production. You'll look incredible in this."

The dress was gorgeous—a deep royal blue with silver accents, full-skirted and elegant. It looked like something straight out of a fairy tale, complete with delicate beadwork across the fitted bodice.

"Don't you think it's a bit... much?" I asked, eyeing the elaborate costume.

Olivia rolled her eyes.

"It's a *masquerade*, Emma. The whole point is to be over-the-top. Everyone will be in elaborate costumes, so you won't stand out at all."

She held the dress against me, her expression softening. "Plus, this blue will make your eyes pop. Trust me on this."

I fingered the silky material, thinking it had been a long time since I'd done something just for fun. Maybe Olivia was right—maybe I needed this distraction.

"Fine," I relented with a small smile. "I guess I'll try to forget about all those troubles for one night.

"That's my girl!" Olivia beamed, clearly pleased with herself. "Now you're talking."

---

The following afternoon, our dorm room transformed into a makeshift beauty salon.

Olivia had skipped her last class to begin preparations, claiming this was "far more important than Professor Garcia's lecture on media ethics."

I sat obediently on my desk chair as she worked, first curling my hair into soft waves, then pinning sections up into an elaborate updo with loose tendrils framing my face.

Next came makeup—more dramatic than I'd ever wear normally, with Ice blue eyes and a hint of shimmer on my cheekbones.

"Hold still," she instructed, carefully applying a delicate silver design around my eyes with a fine brush. "This will look stunning with your mask."

I tried not to fidget as she worked her magic.

"Being a polished lady is harder than it looks," I sighed, shifting slightly in my seat. "How much longer?"

"Perfection can't be rushed," she replied, stepping back to examine her work. "But... I think you're ready for the dress now."

Standing up, I stepped into the blue gown, and Olivia carefully zipped me into it.

The bodice fit perfectly, and the skirt flared out in waves of shimmering fabric. She secured a matching silver and blue mask over my eyes, the feathers and crystals catching the light when I moved.

"Look at yourself," Olivia said softly, guiding me to our full-length mirror.

I hardly recognized the woman staring back at me.

The dress transformed my usual quiet presence into something ethereal and elegant. The mask lent an air of mystery, making my eyes appear larger and more luminous than usual.

"You're a miracle worker," I whispered, turning slightly to watch how the fabric caught the light.

"I know," Olivia agreed with a satisfied grin.

She disappeared into the bathroom with her own costume—a dramatic red and gold affair—and emerged thirty minutes later looking like a Renaissance queen, her dark hair piled high and her smile bright behind a feathered mask.

"Ready to make your grand entrance?" she asked, twirling once to show off her costume.

I nodded, feeling a strange mix of anxiety and excitement flutter in my stomach.

---

The Fairmont Hotel's grand ballroom had been transformed for the masquerade.

Crystal chandeliers cast a golden glow over the space, and black and gold decorations adorned every surface. A live band played from a raised platform at one end, while costumed figures swirled across the dance floor.

We arrived just after nine, when the party was already in full swing.

Olivia's eyes immediately began scanning the crowd.

"I need to find Matthew," she said excitedly. "We agreed to find each other without any hints or signals. If we can recognize each other despite the masks, it's true love!"

"Go find your soulmate," I encouraged with a small smile. "I'll just grab a drink and find somewhere to sit. "

"Don't just hide in a corner all night," Olivia warned, her eyes sparkling behind her mask. "This is the perfect chance for a mysterious encounter. That's the whole point of masquerades—romance with strangers!"

I laughed softly and nodded.

"I'll keep an open mind," I promised, though we both knew I was more likely to observe than participate.

Before she could offer more dating advice, I slipped away toward the edge of the ballroom, finding a quiet corner near one of the tall windows.

The view of Boston at night was spectacular, city lights twinkling against the dark sky.

The music washed over me—a waltz that had several couples gliding across the floor in perfect rhythm. I felt a long-overdue sense of relaxation, the tension in my shoulders easing as I allowed myself to simply exist in the moment.

I'd avoided alcohol, remembering all too well my recent embarrassing episode, but I accepted a glass of sparkling water from a passing waiter and sipped it slowly, watching the kaleidoscope of colors as costumed guests moved around the room.

"Can you believe Nicholas?" a familiar female voice said from somewhere behind me. "He's been such a penny-pincher lately."

I froze, my glass halfway to my lips, and turned slightly to listen.

Megan was standing a few feet away with two other girls, her back to me as she adjusted her elaborate cat mask. I wouldn't have recognized her if not for her distinctive laugh and the topic of conversation.

"He used to be so generous," she continued, sounding annoyed.

"Last month, he took me shopping on Newbury Street and bought me whatever I wanted. Now he's constantly checking price tags and saying he needs to 'be more responsible with finances.' It's pathetic."

One of her friends nodded sympathetically. "Men are all the same. They'll move mountains to win you over, but once they have you, you're suddenly not worth the effort anymore. My ex was exactly like that."