Before Harris realizes it, his head bends low. He squeezes Desiree's hand and plows through the glittering ballroom toward Ablaze, tug-boating his date behind him. Yes, he's an asshole, but he can't help it right now. If he doesn't see for himself whether Ablaze has genuine feelings for her boyfriend or she's just placating her family, he's going to explode.
"She's so pretty," Desiree whispers into his ear.
If she ripped her hand from his, yelled at him to act like a human being or even slapped him down, he'd have dumped her right there and then. But her throaty whisper slows him down. The collar of his best shirt releases its grip on his windpipe, allowing for an intake of breath. Dress shirts are like monsters...
"I only don't understand the need for the pretentious moniker," Desiree continues, moving her hand through the air in time with her words. The lapis-lazuli and gold glitter over the nude glove on her wrist. "A keynote speaker Ablaze is hard to take seriously. This isn't TikTok."
The large screens announcing the presentations' order agrees with Desiree. It reads, Agatha Leung, social influencer and environmental activist, Singapore next to a photograph of Ablaze in her graduation outfit. In the picture, her hair blends with the black of her cape and the glance of her dark-brown eyes directed at the viewer is soulful. If a bit of red gives her even a spark of joy, he doesn't mind her being not hundred percent businesslike.
"It's probably a cultural thing," Harris says. "If she wants to call herself Ablaze, what's the harm?"
Single-mindedly, he makes the beeline for the table front and center.
At graduation from the Academy, also held in the Wisconsin Center's ballroom, Harris moved in a line with all other graduates. He then stood briefly at the stage, receiving applause. When he won the chess tournament, there was even less pomp and circumstance, and the whole thing was held in a school's gymnasium.
He keeps his pace moderate, so Desiree could properly glide on his arm. They are expected to join the head of the Academy, the major donors and the keynote speaker, Agatha 'the Ablaze' Leung.
Agatha. Ablaze. Miss Leung.
He doesn't care what the woman in a little black dress calls herself. Plain black is never plain when it's haute couture, and every stitch of Ablaze's dress is worth more than Harris rental suit.
Her gorgeous number is cut in Chinese style, with short sleeves and a narrow standing collar, slashed by a thin line of crimson at an angle, across the breast. Embroidery blooms on one shoulder. Perhaps, it takes away from the elegance of simplicity, but Harris won't have it any other way. Without this gold-and-crimson burst, Ablaze wouldn't be his Ablaze.
It's a fire-bird's face on her shoulder. Its wings must be at its back--and at Ablaze's back. Folded or opened, he wonders, craning his neck. For goodness' sake, are those wings folded or--
He steps up for a hand-shake with her and the design above her breast looms closer. This ain't a fire-bird. A fiery angel is what it is. Naturally!
"Ablaze, good to see you. It's been so long!" Harris quips. Or maybe he doesn't. The twenty-four hours since Friday dragged on for him. He's only come fully alive when back in her presence. "Allow me to introduce Desiree."
Ablaze smiles. So does Desiree.
"Harris told me so much about you!" the women exclaim and just as simultaneously burst into giggles. It's as if a conductor's invisible hand moves them.
It should be awkward, these two women making friends right in front of him, but Harris doesn't care. He's just... He's drawn into their bubble, impressed by how hostility is reshaped into a no-man's zone, where outfits, hairdos and threat level are assessed.
YOU ARE READING
Ablaze
Mystery / Thriller||Love Triangle between a Firefighter, an Arsonist and an Heiress ♡|| Deeply wounded by his mother's betrayal, Harris, a Milwaukee firefighter, doesn't accept human failings, including his own. That's until he saves a redhead from a burning hotel...
