Beneath the surface

Chapter 5: Shadows of Confrontation

Olivia stood by a small table, her fingers lightly tracing the rim of her glass. She glanced around, trying to make sense of her surroundings. The room was buzzing with voices, laughter, and clinking glasses, but she felt slightly out of place. Across the room, she spotted Ethan. He was in conversation with a man who seemed to command attention. Beside him stood another man, and two women lingered close by, their eyes occasionally shifting towards Ethan.

Olivia noticed how focused Ethan seemed, his posture slightly tense, his expression serious. Their eyes met for a brief moment, and she could see something flicker in his gaze, but then he quickly turned back to his conversation.

The man Ethan was talking to appeared older, maybe in his mid-fifties. His face was lined with the experiences of someone who had seen and done much in his life. There was something about his presence that unsettled Olivia, though she couldn't quite put her finger on it.

Suddenly, the man looked her way, his eyes locking onto hers. He smiled, a slow, deliberate smile, and began walking toward her. Olivia stiffened. She glanced at Ethan again, hoping for some kind of signal or explanation, but he was still engrossed in conversation, though she could feel that he was watching.

"May I have this dance?" The man's voice was smooth, practiced. He stood in front of her now, offering his hand. Olivia hesitated, glancing at Ethan once more. His eyes met hers, but he gave no clear indication of what she should do. Confusion clouded her mind.

"I... I'm not sure," Olivia stammered, her voice barely audible. She didn't want to dance with this man-something about him made her feel uneasy. She turned towards Ethan, hoping for clarity. "What is this about?" she asked, her voice trembling slightly.

Ethan finally broke away from the conversation and moved closer. His eyes held a mixture of urgency and something else, something she couldn't quite place.

"Just go with him, Olivia," Ethan said quietly, his voice low but firm.

Her heart raced. "Ethan, I'm not..." she began, swallowing hard. "I'm not a whore."

His eyes softened for a moment, and he leaned in slightly, his tone urgent but not unkind. "I know, Olivia. But you have to trust me. Just do this, please. It'll be over soon."

Her stomach twisted at his words, but she nodded slowly, even though her mind was screaming at her to run. The man was still standing there, his hand extended, waiting patiently as if this sort of thing happened all the time.

With one last look at Ethan, Olivia took the man's hand, her skin crawling at the touch. She could feel Ethan's eyes on her as they walked toward the center of the room, where other couples were already dancing. As she moved, Olivia couldn't help but glance back. Ethan was still watching, his expression now unreadable, but there was something in his eyes-worry, maybe even regret.

Her heart pounded in her chest as she forced herself to focus, unsure of what would come next.

The man's mansion was grand, almost suffocating in its opulence. Olivia followed him through wide hallways adorned with paintings and expensive sculptures, her senses on high alert. She wasn't sure what Ethan had gotten her into, but she needed answers. If there was a deal, she had to know what it entailed-and more importantly, what her role in it was.

They entered a lavish sitting room, dimly lit, with heavy drapes covering the windows. The man turned to her with a smile that didn't reach his eyes. He gestured for her to sit on one of the plush chairs near the fireplace, and she complied, though unease churned in her stomach.

"I never got your name," Olivia said, keeping her tone light but her gaze sharp.

The man chuckled. "Names matter, don't they?" He sat across from her, leaning back in his chair as though he had all the time in the world. "You can call me Alistair. Alistair Finch."

She'd heard the name before-a businessman with powerful connections, not the kind of person you crossed lightly. But what was his involvement with Ethan?

"I noticed you and Ethan were talking earlier," Olivia ventured. "What kind of deal do you two have?"

Alistair studied her for a moment, as if deciding how much to reveal. "Ethan owes me... quite a lot. And part of our agreement involves you."

Her blood ran cold. "What do you mean, involves me?"

Alistair smiled, a predatory gleam in his eyes. "Ethan didn't tell you, did he? You're part of the payment he promised me. For services rendered." He rose from his chair, stepping closer to her. "And I intend to collect."

Olivia's heart pounded in her chest as Alistair reached out, his hand brushing her arm. She jerked back, her fingers twitching towards her handbag, where she had hidden her pistol. Her mind raced-if she could just get to it in time, maybe she could stop this before it went any further.

But Alistair noticed. His hand shot out, gripping her wrist firmly. "Don't make this difficult," he hissed, leaning closer.

Before she could react, the door burst open. Ethan stormed into the room, his expression tense, his eyes burning with urgency.

"Stop!" Ethan barked, his voice sharp and commanding. Alistair froze, but his grip on Olivia didn't loosen.

"What is the meaning of this?" Alistair demanded, his face contorting with fury.

Ethan took a deep breath, his words cold and calculated. "You've been lied to, Alistair. Olivia isn't what you think she is."

Alistair narrowed his eyes. "What are you talking about?"

"She's a lady of pleasure, yes. But there's something else I didn't tell you." Ethan's voice lowered, as if he were about to share some grim secret. "She's infected. A disease, one that spreads quickly."

The color drained from Alistair's face, and his grip on Olivia's wrist slackened. "You can't be serious..."

Ethan's gaze never wavered. "I am. I didn't want to tell you earlier because I needed this deal, but... I can't let you touch her. Not like this."

Alistair's face twisted with disgust, and he immediately stepped away from Olivia, wiping his hands on his jacket as if he could feel the infection crawling on his skin.

"You lied to me!" he spat at Ethan, his voice rising in anger. "This was never part of the deal. You think I'm going to let this slide? Consider the deal off! You're finished, Ethan."

Ethan stood firm, though Olivia could see the tension in his body. "That's your choice, Alistair. But this... was the only way."

Alistair glared at them both for a moment longer, his chest heaving with fury, before he stormed out of the room, slamming the door behind him.

Olivia exhaled shakily, her hand still hovering near her handbag. She turned to Ethan, her eyes searching his face for some kind of explanation.

"Ethan," she whispered, her voice trembling, "what just happened?"

He didn't answer immediately. Instead, he closed his eyes briefly, as though gathering his thoughts. When he finally spoke, his voice was low, filled with the weight of what had just transpired.

"I'm sorry, Olivia," he said softly. "But I had no other choice."