There is Blood in The Water (bxb)

III.

I have attended three balls throughout my life.

The first was on the day, that the D'ourville family adopted me. It was a charity gala, and to be frank, I was the charity. My adopting father, Lord D'ourville, was a political figure at the time - one, that was caught in the middle of a cheating scandal, with another big fish's wife. After that, he had to remedy his reputation somehow and make up for his mistakes to his spouse – who was coincidentally a big fan of orphans. She had this odd obsession with the less fortunate, and before that eventful year, she was already a big figure in donations targeting the St. Mary Orphanage.

In a nutshell, I became the solution. I looked vaguely like their bloodline, with the same dark brown hair, yet mine became quite wavy, as the years passed by. By then, they could only see the bright-blue-eyed Dantes, the well-behaved, saved little soul, for which they could celebrate themselves – and the Lord had a chance to save his career.

That evening was rather bright, and I admit, I enjoyed the spotlight. Aristocrats laughed at me in a friendly manner, showing me different expensive clothes and foods, and for each and everything, I acted dumbfounded, as if it was the most interesting thing I have ever seen. They enjoyed "showering me" in things they thought I have never heard of before, and I was quite a good receiver when it came to attention. I craved it, like a performer.

In those few hours, the knowledge that I was finally part of a family - a family as rich and kind as this one - settled on me with great delight; I was walking on clouds.

That was until the last guest has left as well, and the bright faces disappeared from around me...

I still have the scars from that night.

The second one on the list was quite a mediocre event in my life. It was the ball that, for a change, I held, after I inherited the D'ourville wealth and took my place as the head of the family.
Also, the last remaining member of it.
The guests were quiet, and I only threw the party for the means of tradition.

But the third...

Well, this, was the third.

I felt like that 10-year-old walking through the rich corridor of a Western-side mansion. I was just as amazed, even now, as an experienced adult, for Reinar's home was simply extraordinary. The décor was dark but soothing: black, off-white and dim shades of red complimented each other on every corner, highlighting the numerous sculptures and enormous book-cabinets. It was a maze that I would've loved to get lost in, but just the minute I thought I'll never find the ballroom, a servant appeared out of thin air.

"I am deeply sorry, that I had not met you at the gate, sir. I was under the impression you'll arrive later."

I looked him up and down, wondering if he was a mortal or not... but given his silver eyes, and the fact, that he was a butler in this house, I gave it a low chance.

"No harm was done – I've been admiring the décor in the meantime."

He was silent for a few seconds, just staring at me as if he hadn't heard a thing I just said. His mouth opened slightly, then closed, his eyes wavering down from my face to my neck.

An adoring smile came to my lips; it felt like I was watching a puppy drool over a piece of meat, and it was strangely endearing.

"Your saliva is dripping..."

He snapped out of it, and stumbled back, smiling as if he was caught staring at the girl he likes.

"I'm sorry, sir. We don't get mortal visitors very often." I wonder why...