Penelope
The Ashworth family ballroom was a testament to controlled opulence. Crystal chandeliers dripped light onto polished marble floors, and an orchestra played a soft waltz. This was my family's world: a place where immense wealth was cloaked in the language of philanthropy, and every smile was carefully curated.
Tonight, the stage was mine.
In my room, the air was still. It was the only peaceful place in the bustlinghouse. I stood in front of the full-length mirror, not as a girl preparing for a party, but a soldier putting on her armour. The dress was white silk-chiffon. The bodice was fitted, but the skirt fell in soft layers.
It was the dress of a sacrificial lamb; it was perfect.
My mother entered, her face a picture of anxious pride. "Oh, my beautiful girl. You look...like an angel." She fussed with a stray hair, and her fingers trembled slightly. "Are you sure you're up for this? The press will be here. It's too much stimulation for you."
I turned to her, allowing my features to soften. "I'm alright, mama. I want to be there to support you and Dad. It's for a good cause." My voice was full of sincerity.
Her shoulders relaxed, and she tapped my nose. "That's my girl. Just stay close to your brother or me. We won't let anyone overwhelm you."
She patted my cheek. Her touch is full of tender love.
They projected goodness onto me because I never contradicted them. That perception is now my perfect shield.
I followed her down the grandstaircase, my hand resting lightly on the banister. The murmur of the crows rose to meet us. My father, an imposing man with silver-streaked hair, was holding court near the entrance. His face lit up when he saw me.
"There she is," he boomed, his voice full of affection. "My beautiful girl. The heart of our family."
My brother, Alexander, materialized at my side. He was the family's protector. He took his role seriously. "You look pale, Sprite," he murmured. "If anyone bothers you, just squeeze my arm."
"I will," I promised, giving a small trusting smile.
I let them guide me through the room, accepting compliments on my dress and my family's generosity. I played my part perfectly. The shy, sheltered heiress, overwhelmed by the grandeur of her own home. But inside, my mind was a cool, calm command center.
My breathing was slow and even. This wasn't a party; it was an operation, and I'm waiting for the target.
Then, I felt the shift in the room's energy. It was subtle. Conversations quieted. Heads turned. He had arrived.
He stood in the doorway, a figure of modern masculinity. He wasn't wearing a tuxedo, but a perfectly tailored black suit. A deviation from the norm, and it made him stand out more. He was smiling, a charming, disarming expression that didn't reach his eyes.
His gaze swept the room with a calm curiosity, like a scientist discovering a new ecosystem.
I watched him from my brother's side. This was the first time I was seeing him in person. The photographs and binders didn't do him justice. He wasn't just a man; he was a force field. He moved with unnerving stillness. His presence absorbed the attention in the room.
"Stay away from him," Alexander whispered, his voice a low growl. "That's the Mourning Baron. He's dangerous."
"I know," I whispered back, letting a flicker of fear show in my eyes. He had seen me looking.
It was a lie, of course. I didn't feel fear. I felt a thrill. A surge of energy that was almost painful. This was the pressure I craved. The moment of truth was approaching.
He began to move with a clear, deliberate path. He greeted my father first. I could see my father's posture, normally confident, become just a little stiffer. My father recognizes that he is playing a game with a master.
I couldn't wait for him to find me. I had to make myself available. A lone, lost lamb in a sea of wolves.
"Alex, I'm feeling a little warm," I said, touching my forehead. "Would you mind if I just got some fresh air for a moment?"
"I'll come with you."
"No, it's alright," I said softly. "I just need a minute. I'll be right back." I gave him a pleading look.
Hehesitated before saying, "Five minutes. Then I'm coming to find you."
I slipped away from the main crowd. I made my way to the conservatory doors. It led to a secluded garden with a fountain. I positioned myself by the fountain's edge, looking away from the party. I was the picture of vulnerability.
I didn't have to wait long.
I felt his presence before I heard him. A change in the air around me. I turned, as if startled, and there he was. He was standing a few feet away, his hands in his pockets, a charming smile firmly in place.
He was more imposing up close. His grey eyes held a bewildering intensity. They weren't looking at me with desire, but with assessment.
"Lost?" he asked. His voice was smoother than I imagined. A pleasant baritone.
I let my breath catch. "Oh! I...no. Just overwhelmed. It's loud in there." I gesture to the ballroom, my movements clumsy."
"He took a step closer. "I understand. These things can be...an endurance exercise." His gaze flickered over my dress, then to my face. I saw the flicker of intrigue in his eyes. He had found his lamb.
"Are you enjoying the party?" I asked, my voice barely a whisper.
"I am now," he said, the charming smile widening. But his eyes told a different story.
The game had begun. The stage was set. And I, the delicate flower in the white dress, was ready to play my part.
I could feel the pressure of his gaze. It didn't break me. It centered me.
I was hungry, and the main course had just been delivered.