Chapter 63. A Lover’s Hate

‘Stronger than lover’s love is lover’s hate. Incurable, in each, the wounds they make.’ — Euripides

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AMANDA 

Time was speedily running by, yet Robert and his date for the night were nowhere to be seen.

What the hell was keeping them late? I wondered, my hands gripping my wine glass so tightly that it almost shattered.

They were supposed to arrive an hour ago if I counted correctly because the masked ball party had begun ever since. 

The evening had been pretty busy, with rich socialists mulling about, talking, and dining while most of the activities already culled out for the ball had taken place. 

Charity donations and auctions which had been the party’s main event, had finished at the same time, and most people in attendance were now making their way to the exit doors, but still, the man of the show—or my show instead— was nowhere to be found. 

So, where in the world were they? Or had they gotten a bai