Owned (Sequel to Sold)

Chapter forty-five: Phantoms don't always exist in the Opera

“Eggnog?” a woman dressed in a waiter's outfit asks us with a tray in hand. My brother takes two and hands me one of them.

We've been at this party for what feels like hours and I have yet to learn of its real purpose. I hardly know anyone here yet they all seem to know my brother and me.

I'm growing tired of this place and the eggnog isn’t helping me one bit, if anything, I only find myself growing more and more irritated by the second.

I place the remaining sips of eggnog on a table nearby and finally find the nerve to pull on my brother’s shoulder, forcing him out of, a very formal- looking, conversation. He seems taken aback by my action, but is able to blurt out an, “Excuse me,” followed by a forced laugh as they stared at us bewildered while I dragged my brother away to a secluded corner of the large mansion. When I finally released him, he swirled around to face me with a scowl. “What the hell?” He whisper- shouts at me I cross my arms and give him a knowing look. He sighs and runs a hand down his face before looking down at his wrist watch and sighing again deeply. “Just wait a little longer, please?”

“Why am I here?” I question, finally reaching my limit of social events outside the comfort of my home. He struggles to come up with an excuse, but still pulls me back and whirls me around to face him when I turn on my heel, beginning to walk away. “I don’t want to be here.”

“You will,” he mutters bitterly and his hold tightens on my upper arms. I raise an eyebrow in question and he visibly gulps. “Just wait a little longer, okay?”

I release a deep irritated sigh as my eyes glare at him from behind my slightly long bangs. I really should get them cut soon.

All of a sudden, the lights begin to dim until they completely shut off. A wave of gasps and appalled murmurs sweep through the pitch black room, but before any chaos can ensue, a bright beam of light comes to life in front of the grand staircase behind us. We all turn as one to find a young man dressed as the phantom, from Phantom of the Opera, standing there. He turns and faces us. A smirk dominates his lip as he bows earning himself some female attention right away. Yet, when he straightens himself, his eyes catch my own and recognition flickers within his own that do not in mine. Before anyone else can notice, he grasps the end if his cape and lifts it up as he twirls himself with a deep laugh as he begins to climb up the grand staircase, but stops at the top step. He turns to see us all gathered at the very bottom; a curious crowd in awe.

“Ladies and gentlemen,” his voice rumbles, deep and silky causing a few, if not all, the women in the room to swoon. “Your gracious host has planned an indeed great surprise for you all,” he continues with a chuckle. “In each of your pockets is a card with a name, find the door with that name and the game begins to find what has been lost.”

“And what exactly has been lost?” A man grudgingly asks.

The young Phantom blinks and simply answers, “A love.”

“A love?” The same man questions with an arched brow. “And how do you suppose we find that?”

The young Phantom laughs and waves a dismissive hand at him, “Follow the clues,” he answers. “Follow the clues and you will find what you seek.”

“We seek love then?” The same, annoying ass man asks. The crowd is, obviously, displeased with this man's attitude that is slowly, yet surely, spoiling their fun.

Unlike the phantom, whom seems completely unfazed. “If you want to win the grand prize, then yes.”

“Oh?” The man questions, now intrigued. “And what is this grand prize?” He inquires.

The young Phantom does not answer. He just places his gloved finger to his lips and backs away into the shades of the second floor before completely disappearing from view.

The man scoffs, earning him a few glares. A small bubble of gasps come to life as people begin to pull out pieces of paper from within their pockets that, they swear, were not there before.

A feel a nudge to my side and look over to see my brother holding a card in front of him. I look over and see the name Caleb written across it in gold print. His eyes find mine and he raises a brow then shrugs nonchalantly and coaxes me to search my own pockets.

I purse my lips in annoyance, “Is this what you had me waiting for?”

He sighs and runs a have through his hair, mussing it up a little. “No…” he hesitates. “Not really, this is not my doing, but where's the harm in playing? I mean, you may win, right?”

I rub my temple as I sigh, completely irritated with this whole situation and really just wanting my isolation so much more than this, yet something in my brother's eyes made me agree, something that made me curious. Something dark.