Passion or Revenge

The Livingston mansion was alive with activities; the household staffs scampered around, either helping with decoration or arranging the food trays on the table or filling flutes with sparkling champagne. No one was idle, Mrs. Livingston made sure of that, barking orders at Agatha, the head of household staffs, who in turn barked orders at the rest of the staffs.

Mason Livingston, heir to the Livingston Empire, was coming home. He had just bagged an Economics degree from the prestigious Oxford University. Now he was coming home to join the family business. The Livingston's never passed up an opportunity to throw a party and for a feat such as this, they were sure to throw the most glamorous party ever.

"Imogen! What's holding the cake?" Agatha shrill voice echoed through the kitchen.

"Coming!" I replied, hurriedly adjusting my apron. On final touch, I thought as I carefully coated the graduation cap shaped chocolate cake, with icing.

Everything had to be perfect. For Mason. I haven't seen him in four years, since he left for college. He was absolute love of my teenage life, even though he doesn't know my name. I have always had a crush on him since I was ten years old, which was around the time my mother started working for the Livingston's. The staffs were prohibited from fraternizing with the Livingston's or their friends, so I just watched from afar. Wishing every day that he would look in my direction and notice me.

It never happened.

He went off to college when I was fifteen. And after four long years, he was coming home.

By the time it was sundown, guests started arriving. Every guest brought along his or her daughter or even granddaughter, all housing hope that Mason Livingston might cast his beautiful blue eyes on their daughter.

Even though I didn't stand a chance beside all these expensively dressed, spoilt princesses; I still had to try to look decent at least. I packed my straight brown hair in a neat ponytail, applied lipstick and touched up my full lashes with mascara. Its unfortunate I had to dress in white and black, with the other staffs, like a waiter in some posh restaurant. But it would have to do.

"I expect nothing less than perfection tonight," Agatha said, as she peered into our faces as we lined up in the kitchen. "Treat the guests with respect and Imogen", my head snapped up almost immediately, "no clumsy spells tonight."

What can I say, I have two left feet. But I don't plan on tripping on anything tonight. Tonight is going to be perfect and it would be even better when I talk to Mason. Yes I plan to talk to him tonight.

The night was off to a perfect start, the music, Radetzky March and some other classical music, were played. The banquet hall was brightly lit, with exquisite decorations and the prettiest line up of colorful flowers. All that was remaining was for Mason to grace the hall with his presence. I had overheard Agatha and Joe, the Livingston's chauffeur, saying that Mason's flight was delayed. But he will come and when he finally arrives, I will serve him and that will be my chance to finally speak to him.

They guests floated around the hall, having hushed conversations and exchanging greetings with each other, with a graceful smile on their lips, a glass of champagne in hand and an air of grace in their mannerism. Grace people like me could only dream of.

It was midnight and I had almost giving up hope, when Mason, accompanied by four other guys, his friends maybe, walked in. Just like the other ladies who watched him with great admiration, I too, stared at him, until every other person disappeared and it was just Mason and me. He was even more beautiful than I recalled. He wore a crisp white shirt over a pair of black jeans and a pair of white Nike sneakers.

His skin was just as flawless as his chiseled chin covered in stubs; his muscles were more defined as threatened to rip out of his shirt. His stormy blue eyes, had dark circles under them, nothing a good night sleep couldn't fix.

All the guests took turns in hovering around him. Probably asking mundane questions like "how was London?" or "what his future plans were".

He was almost never alone; his parents made sure of that, taking him to meet even more guests and their daughters. By 1 am, the guests started leaving one after the other.

"What are you doing here, standing like a statue?" Agatha barked from behind me. I spun around almost immediately, before I could speak, she was already barking more orders.

"Go to the kitchen and help with the dishes, there's a lot that needs to be done."

I nod, and she was gone almost as fast as she appeared. I cast one last glance at where Mason stood, now in the company of his friends, and sighed. There goes my chance of talking to him.

I turned to leave, when one of his friends waved at me. Here was the chance I waited for all night. Giddy with excitement, I scurried down to where they stood as fast as I could before someone will drag Mason away again. Just as I got to where they stood, I tripped.

My tray crashed to the ground but not before the drinks spilled on Mason's shirt.

"What the fuck?" I heard one of the guys curse.

"I'm sorry, I am so sorry," my voice trembled as I hurriedly picked the shards of glass off the floor and unto the tray. The sharp glass bit into my finger and shot pangs of pain through me. Agatha will not let me hear the end of this.

"Hey, it's okay," I heard Mason say. When I didn't respond, he grabbed my hand and pulled me up.

"What happened here?" Agatha shrieked. It was almost as though she was everywhere. "I apologize on her behalf sir," she said, pulling me away from his warm grip. "Go to the kitchen, now."

I hurried away, with hot tears pricking my eyes.

While everyone slept, I washed the dirty dishes, as punishment for my clumsiness. I couldn't complain, I deserve it. I tend to have clumsy spells at the wrong time, usually when I got excited or was nervous. Thankfully, Mason did not lash out at me, like his mother had, when I spilled tea on her. Tilda Livingston was the scariest of the Livingston.

"Hey," I heard a familiar voice call from behind me.

My breathe froze in my throat as I turned and found Mason standing behind me, wearing only a pair of sweat pants. His taut muscles and chiseled abs were exposed, and for the following seconds, my eyes were glued to them.

He cleared his throat. I looked away as color rushed to my face.

"How's your hand?" he asked as he poured himself a glass of water.

"Fine."

He moved closer to me and took my hand. My knees threatened to buckle at his touch. "You have pretty hands," he whispered in a low throaty voice, as he inched even closer.

This isn't happening, I thought as my head starts to spin, and I waited for his next move.

"What is going on here?"

Fuck!

Tilda stood at the kitchen entrance in her red silk, ankle length nightwear; her eyes threatening fire and brimstone as she glared at me. She looked older with a frown, all her edges were crinkled including her forehead. Behind her was Agatha; she looked like she just saw a ghost or something.

"I said what's going on here?" Tilda bellowed.

"Umm...I..." I stuttered while putting more distance between myself and Mason.

"Come on mum," Mason said in a calm tone, "we were just talking okay?" he put the glass down on the counter and cast me a glance, with a smirk on his lips. "See you later clumsy," he threw over his shoulder as he left the kitchen.

"I will deal with you later," Tilda barked as she followed immediately behind her son. Mason was the carbon copy of his mother. He had her charcoal black hair, perky nose and thin lip, but he did not have her brown eyes. He had his father's blue eyes. Thankfully he also had his father's gentle nature.

As Agatha marched towards me, I braced myself for a long lecture. "What is wrong with you?" she barked gripping my shoulders tightly. "Are you trying to get us fired?"

"Mum! You're hurting me," I managed to shrug off her tight grip. I only called her mum whenever I got in trouble, it usually helped in melting icy cold heart. My relationship with my mother has always being strained for as long as I could remember, and everything that happened with my father, made our relationship completely fall apart. I used to hope that someday, we will finally get to sort out our issues.

But slowly that hope fizzled away and now, I didn't care anymore, by spring and she would not have to deal with me anymore.

She raked her trembling fingers through her curly brown hair, her expression flickering between fear and annoyance.

"Stay away from Mason and his family. Keep your head down, do you hear me?"

"We weren't doing anything wrong," I managed to say.

"I don't care!" she squeaked. "You should not be doing anything at all with him!"

When I don't respond, she sighed and added, "Hurry up and come to bed." She turned and walked away, leaving me with my piles of dirty plates.

Regardless of the short drama, only one thing rung in my head over and over again, "see you later clumsy."

Mason wanted to see me again.

________

I adjusted my skirt and unpacked my hair, letting it fall freely down my back. Then I tapped on the door gently.

"Come on in," Mason's voice echoed from behind the door. I pushed the door and entered. Mason and his friends stood around the pool table in his room. They all turned to look at me when I entered.

Mason's stormy blue eyes lingered on my exposed legs. I blushed and looked away. "I brought drinks," I announced.

"What happened to the other girl we sent?" one of his friend, with short led hair and floral shirt asked in an amused voice.

"Shut up Elliot," Mason said as he took the tray containing a bottle of vodka and four shot glasses, from me.

"Julia asked me to bring it to you," after I had practically begged her with folded hands to let me serve them, just so I could see Mason. It's been days since I saw Mason. Agatha made sure I never crossed paths with Mason. She would always assign me to the laundry room or to do grocery runs.

She would flip if she found out where I was right now, but Julia was no snitch.

I turned to leave when Mason grabbed my hand and flashed the prettiest smile ever at me. The eruption of butterflies in my stomach threatened to unbuckle my knees.

"Can you play pool?" he asked.

I shook my head, as my lips were still in shock from the contact.

"I could teach you," he said pulling me towards the pool table.

"I don't know," I say reluctantly. I can't risk Agatha finding out where I was and who I was with.

"Come on clumsy, humor me."

"My name isn't clumsy."

"You wouldn't tell me your name."

"You never asked."

He let go of my hand. "I think I like clumsy better."

"Well I don't," I folded my hands over my breast, with a defiant look on my face. On a spur of the moment I blurted, "I will play pool with you, if stop calling me clumsy. Deal?" I stretch out my hand.

At the end, I spent hours in the game room, learning how to play pool and stealing glances at Mason, which I'm sure he must have noticed.

When I returned to the laundry room, I met a livid Julia folding the laundry.

"She has finally returned," she said.

I giggled and hugged her tightly. Julia was my only friend and the only one amongst the staff that was also a teenager like myself.

"Where you drinking?" her eyes widened in surprise.

"Just a smidge," I giggled.

"Your mum would kill you."

"If she finds out," I winked at her.

Julia rolled her eyes at me. "Just be careful, okay?"

I just smiled and skipped out of the kitchen. I was over the moon, I was high on love not vodka. Mason liked me too, he wouldn't have spent his entire afternoon with me if he didn't like me. Maybe I stood a chance, to be in his life, to be his....

I pushed my bedroom door open and found Agatha standing by the window and staring into space. My smile immediately disappeared. I considered walking away almost immediately.

"Come in and close the door," she said, as though she could read my mind. I obeyed reluctantly.

"Where have you been?"

"I was doing the laundry," I lied.

"Don't lie to me young lady!"

"I... Julia asked me serve Mason and his friends drinks. It's no big deal."

"No big deal?" she scoffed. "I could you hear your laughter from the hall and here you are, reeking of alcohol and telling me it's no big deal."

"I just had a few drinks, I am not a child anymore. I am nineteen!"

"Then start acting your age! Can't you see he is trying to play you?"

"What? You don't even know him!"

"I don't need to know him. That is what people like him do. They lure you in with promises, just to sleep with you. Then they discard you!"

I stared back at her feeling nothing but disgust and anger. "Screw this shit!"

I stormed off, slamming the door behind me as rushed out of the house and into the garden. I needed to breathe. It was as though Agatha never wants to see me happy. Always butting into my life with her know it all attitude. Mason was good, I can see that, why can't she?

The smell of fresh flowers always soothed me. So I strolled further into the garden and towards the fountain. I hate fighting with my Agatha, now my perfect day has being ruined. If only....

I stopped dead in my tracks, as my eyes fell on Mason standing by the fountain.

His arms were tightly wound around a blond woman I've never seen before.

Betrayal's cold claws crawled up my skin; I felt sick. I spun around and raced back the way I came. Agatha was right. Mason was a player.

I brushed past Julia in the hallway, but she grabbed my hand and pulled me back.

"What is it?" she asked with concern written all over her face.

I took steading breathe to calm myself. After I had regained composure, I shook my head and muttered nothing.

"Don't lie to me." With the way she peered into my eyes, I wondered if she could see into my soul.

I couldn't tell her that I just saw Mason holding another woman intimately and that it upset me. It's not like he owed me anything.

"I had a fight with Agatha," I finally said instead,

She sighed and loosened her grip on my arm. "You need to stop fighting with your mum. The both of you cannot continue like this."

"You tell her that," I said and started walking away.

One thing was sure, no more frolicking with Mason.

________

For the next couple of days, I avoided Mason as much as possible and said little or nothing to Agatha. In two months, I will be off college all the way in New York and none of these will matter, not an estranged mom and not a hot playboy.

"You have a secret admirer," I heard Julia say in a singsong voice as she entered my room.

"No I don't," I reply amused by the thought of a secret admirer.

"This lovely bouquet of flower left conveniently at your door says otherwise."

"What?" I smiled and took the bouquet of roses from her. I retrieved the handwritten note.

I miss you clumsy.

I blushed but just as soon, the memory of Mason with the blonde lady came crashing back. I handed the flowers back to Julia. "You can have it," I said.

She gave me a weird look and then said, "You sure about that?"

I didn't respond. Of course I didn't want to give the flowers away, they were from Mason. But giving those flowers to Julia was not as difficult as having to stay away from him.

Later that night, as I finished up my chores. Mason came into the kitchen, with an even bigger bouquet of flower.

"Imogen," he said, putting the flower down on the counter beside me.

"Sir," I reply without sparing a glance at him.

"Did I do something wrong?"

"None that I know of," I reply coldly, my hands working double time just to finish with the dishes and get away from him.

"Then why are you ignoring me?" he asked, taking a few steps closer to me.

"I wouldn't want any problems with your girlfriend," the words rushed out even before I had a chance to swallow them.

He chuckled making me feel dumb. "I don't have a girlfriend," he said turning me to face him.

"And the blonde I saw you by the fountain?" I asked evading his gaze.

"Sasha? She's my best friend. She has being having a hard time lately, I was just consoling her," he chuckled again.

I wasn't sure whether to believe him or not, but he looked sincere. And his eyes, they were an endless pool of shimmering blue.

"Don't lie to me," I said weakly.

"I would never lie to you," he said and placed a kiss on my forehead. I blushed.

"Elliot is throwing a party tomorrow night. Pick you up by seven?" he asked.

I managed to stop myself from doing a dance as I said yes. I was still blushing furiously minutes after he left.

Mason liked me.

________

I have never being to a party thrown by rich kids, so I wasn't completely sure of what to expect. But it was like every other party, with raging horny youngsters rocking each other while getting high on drugs and alcohol.

I felt quite odd in my 5% off floral mini dress, watching others girls in their expensive designer wears. Thankfully there was enough alcohol to drown my insecurities.

"Another round!" Tom raged, as the skinny waiter refilled our empty shot glasses with tequila.

"A toast to Elliot," said a guy I learnt his name was Fredrick, who said 'oh gawd' frequently. "Elliot, you are a crappy friend but we love you!" he continued in a slurry tone.

"To Elliot!" they chorused in unison, before drowning the liquid. The clear liquid burned my throat as it made its way down.

"Now, I'm gon' try to get laid," Elliot said as he hopped to his feet and wobbled away. I feared he would fall but he didn't.

"So..." Greg started, motioning for me to remind him of my name that I had already repeated like a million times.

"Imogen."

"How do you like the party?" he asked.

I didn't. "Not bad I guess," I shrugged.

He looked at me like I was crazy. "You guess?"

"Oh gawd, don't let Tom hear you say that," Fredrick said.

I refilled my shot and downed it. I was only here because of Mason and Mason was looking at every other person in the room but me. This was not how I expected this night to go.

"I think I want to call it a night," I said, raising my voice above the blaring music.

"Why?" Mason said, finally casting a fleeting glance at me.

"I've got to work in the morning."

For the next few minutes he did not respond. When he finally spoke he took my hand, "Let's get out of here, I want to be alone with you."

Those few words lit up my face like a light bulb and caused an eruption of butterflies in my stomach.

Moments later, we were in a fully furnished room with romantic lights and a bottle of champagne. Mason filled two glasses and handed one to me.

"To us," he said before clinking our glasses. He downed the liquid in one swig while I took a sip of mine before putting the glass down on the nightstand. I was already tipsy from the many shots I took earlier.

"I really like you a lot Imogen," Mason said, moving closer to where I sat on the bed. "And I think you like me too," he said with a boyish grin as he took my hand.

My heart fluttered at the sudden contact. I love you, was what I wanted to say but decided against it. He leaned closer, his lips inches away from mine, "I've always wanted to do this", my eyelids fluttered shut as his breathe fanned my face.

His lips crashed unto mine with such passion and intensity that took my breathe away. I held onto his collar as he deepened the kiss. He thrust his tongue into my warm mouth, tasting, exploring and dominating me.

He reached up and groped my breast and just like that, I jolted backwards breaking the kiss. I wasn't ready for this.

"What is it?" he asked in a voice so gentle, it could melt the thickest ice. The lust in his eyes were almost tangible, and filled me with just enough confidence. Confidence that I could make the mighty Mason Livingston want me.

"I..." I cleared my throat, "I don't think it's a good idea."

"Hey, its okay," he whispered as he pulled me closer and kissed my neck. I threw my head backwards as he sucked on the nape of my neck, driving me to the edge. We shouldn't be doing this I know, but it felt so good. His lips felt like heaven on my neck.

His hand snaked up my thigh and found my wetness. He teased my clitoris with his finger, before inserting his finger into my vagina.

"Fuck," he gasped, pushing me unto the bed. His lips found mine again and for a while we consumed each with such hunger that left us gasping for breath.

He pulled my dress upwards and inserted his hard member inside me. I gasped and dung my nails into the skin of his back as he rode me to climax.

It was over almost as soon as it began and I gave into the warm embrace of sleep.

When I woke in the morning, he was gone.