Desire Of The Elite

CHAPTER 8

Narrator POV

“Hey! Watch where you're going!”

“You should also watch where you're going,”

Ethan fired back at Olivia.

"It's you," Olivia uttered, not realizing when those words escaped her lips. In a sudden realization, she swiftly covered her mouth with her hands and took a step back.

“Do you know me?” Ethan asked, walking towards her as she receded, glad it looked like she also noticed him the same way he noticed her.

“No, I do not,” Olivia answered, now aware of herself. Ethan felt a little hurt by her response, but brushed it off. “Why are you walking towards me?” Olivia asked. “Why are you walking backward?” Ethan replied, giggling. “Okay, stop!” Her back was now against the trunk of a car. She climbed and sat on it. “Are you here for the party? If you are, why are you outside?” Olivia asked, unbuckling her heels. “It was getting too hot in there, and I have something to do at home. What about you? Why are you outside?” Ethan turned the table. “Do you always reply to a question with another question?” Olivia eyed him. “I'm sure I gave you an answer to that question; you are the one answering a question with a question,” Ethan answered with a smirk. “Like you, it suddenly got hot inside; I needed the cool breeze.” Olivia made a loud thud on the floor with her heels now unbuckled, looked at Ethan, and said, “You don't look like one of the proud kids of my dad's business associates.” “I don't. Should I take that as a compliment?” He jumped on the trunk and got himself seated close to her—too close to her. “Take it whichever way you choose, but I get that a lot, and I don't even know if it's a compliment.” Mimicking some teachers from school, “Oh, Olivia, you are so down to earth, nobody would even know you were born with a silver spoon.” “Humble, sweet Olivia, you carry yourself with so much grace, and it still doesn't come off as proud.” Now laughing, “Olivia, love, you are a person everyone should emulate; such humility,” she said, laughing with tears now coming out of her eyes. Ethan joined her too. “What's your name? You already know mine.” “I didn't ask you for it,” trying to act corny. “I see, okay. Who invited you then?” “A friend,” pulling out his cell phone to see missed calls from his dad, ignored him. “It's my party, and an acquaintance of yours invited you." She stared at him in disbelief. “It's your party, and you are outside talking to a stranger; you are a great host.” Ethan tried to shift the conversation away from himself. “I don't know half of the people in there.” “You don't know me, either.” “You are one person; I can deal with you.” She hit him playfully. “I might be a kidnapper, for all you know.” “Great, then they might pay attention to me. I have been out for how long now? 30 minutes, yes! 30 minutes, and nobody has noticed my absence.” Ethan could see the tears threatening to come out. He reached out to wipe them off with his thumb, and for a moment, something seemed to pass between them. They both froze, and the world just faded away. “You might be a kidnapper, but you most certainly don't act like one.” She chuckled, and Ethan couldn't help but join in again. “Let me tell you a story”, “When I was five, my best friend David and I hatched a plan to fake my kidnapping.” Olivia smiled at the memory. David must be the guy at the party—the one she hugged so passionately, Ethan thought. “What happened? Did you guys follow through with it?” “No, we didn't, David chickened out. Now that I think about it, that was so stupid.” “It's not; we could do it if you want.” Ethan couldn't stop himself before the words came out. Olivia looked at him in surprise. “You would do that?” “Well, yes, for the right sum,” he said, giving her a cocky smile. “How much is the right sum?” she asked, indulging him. "Let's see, a kiss from you.” Staring intensely at her. “Now I know you are joking.” She burst out laughing again. The party seemed to be going in full swing, even if the celebrant was outside. Ethan's phone had been blown up; even if the phone was on silent, he knew his father had left him countless calls, texts, and even threatening messages about how Ethan might just kill him before the day his ancestors were ready to receive him home. He stared at Olivia. She was too precious a girl to give up in an arranged marriage. She is innocent, naive, and needed a guy who would treat her like a princess with so much love and care—a guy he couldn't be. He couldn't afford to bring her into his life with all his scars and hurt. She deserves better. Olivia tried to take as many pictures as she could of this perfectly sculpted Egyptian god of a man that was sitting close to her; she didn't know if she would see him again. He hadn't asked for her number; maybe he wouldn't. What if he had just been nice all this while, conversing with her because she wore her loneliness as a badge of honor, and it had been screaming, “I need someone to talk to”? He was just being nice and polite. She thought about her parents' marriage plan for her; should she tell him?

Following that, he will come to her rescue and take her to his home. Isn't that how romance novels and movies typically unfold? However, this is New York in the year 2022, not the eighteenth century in England. Furthermore, she wasn't going to keep this handsome man to herself.

“I should get going.” Ethan jumped down from the trunk. She knew it was too good to be true. “Yeah, me too, right after I got this shoe back on.” She tried to get down, but Ethan held her. He picked up his heels. “Your left foot, ma," he said, stretching forth his hand. She could feel her cheek getting red; she was blushing. “A perfect gentleman, thank you.” He carried her down from the trunk. “Goodnight, Olivia.” That concluded it. She followed him as he moved in the direction of his parked car.