Betrayal, Secrets & Love

Adding Extra, Secret Spice to the Mix

The past always manages to etch itself into the world. Every breath is seen and imprinted in the winds. The grand ballroom, an inspiration pulled right out of the Middle Ages was no different. It attested to the years long passed, and no matter Milira's mood, it brought her to her knees and stole her breath. Old and new, the ballroom told the stories of countless generations who lived among the estate walls. Now, it mixed with her era, and her life. The room bore witness to the mess she found herself in.

Milira mentally shook off the echoes and concentrated on the room. Inspired by a trip to the great assembly room and ballroom of the Royal Castle in Warsaw, the original owner constructed his ballroom into an almost identical copy. Its gilded majestic being crawled within every inch of the room, drawing the eye from the tip of the bottom wall up towards the very top, where a gold leaf colour covered the stuccowork that bled into a ceiling painting. A painting displaying the Disentanglement of Chaos painted by a famous painter who had been imported from Warsaw at the time.

It withstood the test of time and history became laced in it. Because of this, Alexander developed a fascination with the room. He spent numerous hours reconstructing and maintaining its beauty. Alexander's primary focus were the statues of Apollo and Minerva. Milira and Alexander often wandered into the ballroom and sat across from the statues while making up stories of their origin and the adventures they might have gone on. Tonight, however, their eyes followed her every step along with the room's occupants. Milira felt like a piece of art, being observed, speculated about, and judged underneath the fairy lights draped from the ceilings and around the columns. The lights created an atmosphere of enchantment. Milira gulped, her body unable to fall into the spell of the room. It seemed as the onlookers saw right through her rouse, the corner of her lips faltered in their smile, and she cringed inwards. Someone should've included training lessons with the contract, she couldn't act. Whereas Damon, a perfect postured host, guided them through chattering couples, steering them towards a huddled bunch of gushing women.

The group of women all turned, their fired gazes zoning in on Milira. Diamonds decorated each woman, catching the added light from the candelabras and chandeliers hanging of high-suspended chains. Perfection, and hours of preparations screamed at Milira, and her feet itched to escape. Her simple style tonight, stuck out among the crowd and proved she shouldn't reach for the heavens when she was too short.

Damon introduced her, chatted a few senseless words, and moved on to the next group, each couple, each crowd, all stared at her as if she landed the first price to an all-expenses paid trip with a god. The women threw charming smiles in her direction but their eyes spoke of cold needles filled with oozing jealousy. The men simply made the right noises, their own eyes scrutinising, and hard, waiting for her to mess up the entire night. By the end of the first half hour, she started to melt into a void of indifference and smiled, nodded, talked and moved, on request.

Despite having been around a vast amount of wealth during her summer stays with her uncle, Milira always felt uncomfortable among the socialites. Her simple lower grade background made her conscious and wary of being snobbish. The values of life could be just as precious when poor. Money may buy the finest silk, the flashiest diamonds, and the fanciest cars, house, and everything imaginable but it didn't make one a better person, nor did it teach the life lessons needed to survive.

Lost in her thoughts, Milira drew in a sharp breath when Damon's hand slipped down her back while moving her hair away with gentle fingers. His head tilted towards her, a pleasing grin etched on his face as the warmth of his palm sprawled over her exposed back and crept into her skin. He tugged her closer to him, his grin widening. He's enjoying this. Dammit.

Milira gave him a weak smile and averted her gaze, her body stiff in his embrace. Damon puzzled her, the pieces were hidden from her grasp, and she couldn't find them no matter how hard she tried, which made being in Damon's presence more of a headache than anything else. Hot or not, he is trouble, her brain warned and she found herself mentally nodding with the statement. His cards were perfect, he knew when to deal, when to withdraw and when to throw in the showstopper of the hour. He was a master at a game she never played, the rules forgotten to be explained to her. His ring, on her finger, burned hotter and hotter the more Damon's hand sought the exposed areas of her skin. Whether the back of her neck, a simple kiss on the cheek or the slip of his hand over her body as they danced, he didn't stop. He continued to revel in the discomfort she felt. It's all pretentiousness, don't let it get to you. But the thought didn't soothe her and the heat continued to rise, right into the silver band. She wanted to be a screaming two-year-old who could rip the band from her finger and stomp her feet in protest.