Free Masquerade by Melissa de La Cruz

winter had finally arrived.
    Oliver found his family’s car and driver idling by the curb, and led Schuyler toward the black Mercedes Maybach. They settled inside the cozy leather interior, Schuyler thanking the gods for giving her Oliver. His family fortune (intact) definitely came in handy during times like these.
    The two of them were quietly absorbed in their own thoughts as they rode back to the city. Traffic was light on the freeway for a change, and they made it to Manhattan in half an hour. The car drove over the George Washington Bridge and exited on 125th Street, making its way down Riverside to the Van Alen mansion on the corner of 101st and Riverside.
    “Well, this is me,” Schuyler said. “Thanks again for everything, Ollie. I wish it had worked out with my grandfather.”
    “Yeah, no worries. ‘Protect and serve,’ that’s my motto.”
    Oliver leaned over to kiss her on the cheek like he always did, but at the last minute Schuyler turned her head so that their noses bumped into each other.
    “Oops,” she said.
    Oliver looked embarrassed, and they embraced awkwardly instead.
    What was wrong with her? He was her best friend. Why was she acting so lame? She was about to open the car door when he cleared his throat. She turned to him. “Did you say something?”
    “So, uh, I guess you’re going to that thing tonight, huh?” he asked, scratching his chin.
    Schuyler blinked. “Thing?”
    “That, uh, Four Hundred Ball,” Oliver said, rolling his eyes and making exaggerated scare quotes with his fingers. “The big bloodsuckers shindig.”
    “Oh, right.” She had almost forgotten about that. Her presence would be required as part of The Committee. She was too young to be officially presented at the ball, unlike Mimi and Jack Force. Jack Force—for weeks now she had suppressed her feelings for him, but the thought of the Four Hundred Ball brought his image to the forefront of her mind. Tall, painfully handsome, the sun shining on his golden hair and skin, laughing with his piercing green eyes, showing his even, dazzlingly white teeth.
    Jack had been the first to suspect there was more to the story of Aggie’s death than anyone on The Committee would have liked to believe. He was the one who had been determined to find out the truth. She had sought him out after she had been attacked, and after he had comforted her, they had kissed. The memory of his kiss was still pressed like an imprint on her lips. If she closed her eyes she could still smell him, clean and fresh like newly laundered linen, with a hint of woodsy aftershave.
    Jack Force . . .
    Who had turned his back on her when she had mistakenly accused his father of being a Silver Blood.
    She wondered if Jack had a date for the ball, and if he did, who it was. She felt a bright flare of jealousy at the thought of another girl in his arms.
    “Do you want to go with me?” She hadn’t even given any thought to a dress or a date until Oliver mentioned it.
    Oliver blushed and looked pained. “It’s, um . . . vampires only. Kind of a rule. No human familiars or Conduits allowed.”
    “Oh, I’m sorry, I didn’t know.” Schuyler said. “Maybe I won’t go.”
    Oliver looked out the window, where snow had covered the rooftops and sidewalks with a glaze of white crystal.
    “You should,” Oliver said quietly. “Cordelia would have wanted you to.”
    Schuyler knew he was right. She was the remaining Van Alen in New York. She would have to represent the family. “All right, I’ll go. But I’ll leave early and maybe we can meet up later on?”
    Oliver smiled wistfully. “Sure.”

ELEVEN
    T he Forces had booked the four-bedroom presidential suite at the St. Regis. Almost all the rooms in the hotel were taken over by Blue Blood families. It was a tradition, since it meant a simple ride in the elevator to the ballroom and guaranteed less crinkling of the ladies’ gowns. Charles Force fastened his remaining cuff link. He was a tall, proud man