Black Lace (Complete)

𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐎𝐍𝐄

Chapter One

"My beautiful, beautiful girl." Mother gushed kindly, swiping the silken ropes of my hair behind my ears, exposing my small cheekbones and rosy cheeks to the light. She had that loving Mother look on her face. With her eyes set in adoration, her lips loose though not parted, she had the warm calming aura I so desperately craved in her presence.

Love me, I would think. And love me she did.

Mother adjusted the top of my dress, making sure to cover my breasts. Only the tops of my collar bones showed, accompanied by the dainty spiral of my neck. A pearl necklace sat there, dangling from a golden thread; it was beautiful and simplistic. I always loved simplicity and the beauty it provided. Not everything beautiful had to be complicated. And not everything complicated was beautiful.

"I am almost twenty, mama. I will not be your little girl for much longer." I offered her a serene smile, lessening the weight of my words. Her chest sunk nonetheless. Her fingers dwindled at the edges of my hair, twisting and curling around the elusive strands. Every time you tried to grasp one they'd slip from your hold. Mother called me fortunate to have such silken hair, but I thought it annoying. You could barely do anything with it since every time you put it up in a bow, it would fall right back out again. "Mama," I said kindly, taking her spindly fingers into my own. We intertwined our fingers like that for a few moments as Mother stared down at them, lost in the sight of our connection. "You don't have to be sad. My adulthood will be reason for celebration." I slipped one hand from her hold and lifted her chin, staring at her strongly. She had always been soft with me, so, so soft. Sometimes I wished she were stronger.

But Mother said we had Father for that.

"I know, I know." She sighed as her eyes fluttered closed, picturing a scene unbeknownst to me. "But it does not matter how old you get. To me, you will always be my little girl. And it's hard to see my daughter go—to marry a man I may never meet."

Her confession was one I'd heard before. When I turned twenty, Father would arrange a marriage with a man of his choosing. Mother and I both knew he'd accept nothing but the best from my husband, but Father also liked to keep us safe behind our estate's tall walls, away from everyone else. We both doubted he'd let Mother see me off at my wedding, where so many strangers and older men would be. And if she weren't at my wedding, she would never meet my husband.

She saw my response on the tip of my tongue and she smiled, silencing my reply. I had the same reply every time. It was one I never got to speak. Sometimes it felt like she didn't want to hear it.

Her finger pressed down on the tip of my nose, booping it lightly as her eyes shimmered. I wasn't sure if they were shimmering from happiness or tears, maybe even a mix of both. I never knew nor found out because she turned away from me, refusing to meet my stare. Facing away from me, she spoke again, her voice as soft a velvet as ever. "Your Father is waiting downstairs. Mr. Aziel Herrera will be arriving soon, and we must be there to greet him."

"Yes, Mother." I replied courteously, curtseying slightly.

"Good, now come," she said. She began to walk out of the room, gown sweeping the floor as she walked. My eyes followed as my feet did: her path was mine to follow.

The walk to the front hall was a significant one. Though I had explored every nook and cranny of Father's estate, few times did I actually come to the front hall. There was no purpose for it, I supposed. No one visited, if rarely. Maids and butlers entered through separate exits. And the looming white front door with no windows to show what was beyond always seemed to taunt me. I was glad to be safe, I was glad that Father kept me safe from the dangers of the outside...but I longed to breathe in fresh air every now and then. Oh, how I longed to feel rich earth beneath my bare toes and plant myself there like a rose, unwilling to move.

And, as I came to stand before it, it did impose on me so. Its whiteness did feel a disservice to the bubbling green that came to my chest. My fingers tightened together.

"Romina!" My mother hissed, lightly swatting my arm. I loosened my grip and glanced down to see red marks dotting my soft skin, left by the imprints of my fingers and nails. Mother sent a panicked glance at Father, but calmed when she realized he wasn't looking and turned back to me, eyes narrowed. "What will our guest think when you have red bruises all along your hands?"

"I-I'm sorry mama," I said honestly, also glancing in Father's direction. He seemed unconcerned, focused on the phone in his hand. His brows pulled together and I calmed in the knowledge that his frustration was not directed towards me.

"Rima?" Father said, looking up from his phone. Mother turned towards him, hands held in front of her politely. "Important...matters have been brought up. Will you accompany me to the billiard room?" Mother replied with a "yes, dear," and Father turned back to me.

"It's an awful shame I will not be there to greet our guest." He truly looked conflicted. One last glance at his phone seemed to cement his resolve, though, as he turned his chin up decidedly and walked forth, motioning for Mother to follow. "Romina, I trust you will greet our guest kindly? Escort him to the sitting room and offer him drink upon arrival; the butlers and maids will deal with his coat and luggage. Just..." He took a moment to breathe and calmed himself before continuing. "Be polite. And though I know Mr. Aziel Herrera to be a chivalrous and righteous gentleman, do remember what I have always told you."

To never trust a man. 

I curtseyed, masking my discomfort with a smile. I had never greeted a guest before. I'd never had a guest before. The only people I'd ever interacted with were Mother, Father and the maids. Even the butlers were forbid to speak to me. But I kept this all to myself, mustering a single "yes, papa."

As Mother and Father left for the billiard room in a hurry, I steeled my nerves and turned to face the door. Deep breaths, Romina, I told myself. Calm. Panic will do you no good.

Soon after my heart calmed and my pulse returned to normal, four harsh knocks on the door broke through the silence of the hall.

I jumped in place. Panic may have done me no good, but I panicked anyway.