❝ But this boy, this charming boy had laid sights upon her dead boredom and ripped it apart. She wasn't one for younger men, but there was a sort of aura that sucked the quivers of Josephine chest and flowed warmth between her legs...❞
〰️
Dante Vale...
Josephine missed the canopy of sunlight as night dusted the sky with moonlight into her chambers. The golden furnishing and tailored curtains glinted silver in the evening. But it wasn't the dusk that kept Josephine awake. It was the sound of her heartbeat. It's all that she could do to attract her interest while the plain-faced maids spun her into a pretty gift. The perfect working of a Williams's child.
But between closed doors, the household knew that Josephine wasn't perfect. She was far from it. Desolate, broken and strange. But there was never a chatter, never a stir. And if there was, they knew what was to come.
Josephine's wraith was of another world.
Typically, Josephine preferred her hair course and loose at best. For the strands to flow like silk, for her hair wild and wicked like she. But not today. Instead, as she glanced to the maids running around the long strands of her hair, they seeped it up into pins. Curled the sleek ends, and crimped the celestial-gold wisps into braids.
As how her father liked it. Preferred it.
Josephine watched the servants. She hadn't bothered to learn their names, as they had of hers. They were almost like dolls, quiet and cut of their tongues. Never a sweet hello or a more typical good morning. The hallways were always lost of solemn voices, only allowing the scuffle of footsteps to fill its empty less bode.
"When is father to arrive?" She said suddenly, surprising the maid to her left. Old and wrinkly, Josephine cringed. "Or am I to play dress-up until my father decides he wants his doll?"
"Mr. Williams is already here, Miss Williams," The old prune croaked, alien to speak. "Mrs. Williams chose your gown today. She is also here as well." Josephine refrained walking away from all of this. This stupid family dinner. But there was a lash that held onto her, and made her sit tightly in that chair.
That leash was family blood.
But it was truly outrageous. They were hardly a family, any idea of it made Josephine snigger. Mother's cry for a bond, Father's lectures for a perfect daughter—they were all obsolete. Even her own mother's attempt to send this wretched gown was nothing.
No, it did nothing at all. She was still the same.
It's was one of the hundred obstacles in hoping that her mother could give her the makings of a female heir. Her appearance. Josephine should've know better by now, and so should have her father, but he never listened. It didn't matter if she crimped her hair one day, or exposed a bit of more skin the next, it wouldn't change anything.
The thought plagued Josephine. If she was the perfect child, maybe things would begin to heal between her parents and her. Better to remind herself, day after day, that more of her effort was needed in sustaining her current position. At least that's how her parents saw it.
If she was enough, maybe she would matter to her parents. Maybe she would be more than what she was worth.
Josephine didn't bother admiring herself in the mirror. She didn't like this style. Her father's style. But of course, he was all that is important. His opinion was higher than Josephine's.
If the maids had listened to Josephine's choices, given her a dress that would bring a smile to her sharp cheeks, then perhaps she would beam over herself in the mirror. As she did daily. But inevitably, it wasn't. Josephine's lips twitched.
Typically, she would loom over herself for such a job well done. But not this time. She hated the look. The dark lilacs set on her wrinkled lids slashed itself away across her pretty skin, up to her temples. Not to mention the various of glimmers brushed intensively across her pointed face, noire and sapphire hues dusted across painted cheeks.
Josephine looked to the maids for a reaction. They only met Josephine's gaze in the mirror and looked away. They were waiting, she realized.
Josephine went back to her reflection without a word.
She looked like a glittering mess, to say the least. Something a child like Viola Bolina could make. But she supposed the look matched the state of her dark blue eyes, and the deep lilac of her dress. At least Mother could do something right.
Her parents time here was short until they return to whatever the hell they did far away from Josephine. She knew that. So instead of souring over her current appeal, she studied the face looking back in the mirror.
She forced her lips into a tight smile. It was convincing enough. The maids bobbed their heads while a part of her told herself that she didn't look too horrible.
Josephine stood, and dusted herself to the soft hems of her dress. Rose gold and lilac, so pretty. So girly. She tutted. She was late. Her Father hated lateness.
Strolling by scent, the long swish and away of the dress flowing lavishly across the stone cold floor, as Josephine lead way to the dining room, where she knew Mother and Father would be waiting. When she strode passed oak doors, she found them both sprawled in their chairs, all haughty and frugal. She could have sworn that her mother was ram-rod rigid, fork in hand.
"Good Evening," She said a stroke too dry, especially as she took a seat between them without a word. She immediately regretted it the moment her eyes lingered to her father. She stiffened.
For the gaze that followed from her Father was not kind. Not kind at all, especially not as he said, "Josephine, how nice of you to join us."
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Oof. Not the most action in a chapter. This was more of a set-up to Josephine's family history.
But trust me, there is a ton of drama to come in the next chapters.
What do you guys think Josephine's Father will be like? Her Mother?
Do you guys think they'll be as wicked as she?
I'm really excited for the upcoming chapters. You'll see why.
