Doris Elizabeth Corday

Mr. Illion and I entered the gala together, a scene of opulence unfurling before us. Crystal chandeliers dripped from the ceiling, their refracted light dancing across polished floors. Waiters glided between clusters of guests, balancing trays of champagne that sparkled like liquid gold.

The room pulsed with a hum of whispered conversations and muted laughter, the air thick with an intoxicating mix of wealth and intrigue.

My arm was linked with Mr. Illion's, a gesture that should have felt simple, even polite. Instead, it was unnervingly intimate. My gaze drifted to where our bodies touched, the warmth of his presence contrasting sharply with his reputation for distance.

This man, who kept everyone at bay, seemed almost... comfortable with me.

Why?

Was it because of my lack of presence?

Did I slip through his defenses because I was forgettable?

Sensing my scrutiny, Mr. Illion glanced down, his dark eyes sharp and questioning. His black hair was smoothed back with precision, making him look every bit the cold, untouchable figure he wanted to be.

Yet, I couldn't shake the memory of him at the Velvet Room — the raw, untamed edge of him I'd glimpsed that night.

I suddenly found myself tempted to mess him up just to see that version again.

"What's on that mind of yours, Doris?" he asked, his brow arching with a mixture of curiosity and warning.

My expression soured.

"Have I ever told you I hated my first name?" I spoke. "Just call me Beth. Or I might mess up your hair out of spite."

His eyes narrowed, though the corner of his mouth tugged up.

"Do not attempt it."

My fists bundled as I itched to make him regret testing me.

"Well," I said, "since we don't seem to respect each other's wishes, why not? You dragged me to this damned gala despite me saying no."

His lips curved into something closer to a smirk, but his voice was measured.

"We won't get another opportunity to get you close to Jack. And if the circumstances align, you might even retrieve Alistair's card instead. It would save us considerable trouble."

"No."

The word left me as firmly as I could manage.

We moved deeper into the gilded room, the melodic strains of a live orchestra blending seamlessly with the murmur of voices. Buffet tables stretched along the walls, groaning under the weight of decadent offerings, while couples spun across the dance floor.

"There's no way I'm going near that silver freak," I muttered, my voice sharp with an edge of unease I couldn't quite shake. "He gives me the creeps."

Even now, I can remember Alistair's unsettling smile with sickening clarity. The way his blue eyes glinted through the curtain of platinum hair, the way his presence seemed to hollow the air around him. It was as though he thrived on making others feel small, trapped.

"You have good instincts," Mr. Illion said, his voice dipping into a darker timbre as the humor bled from his features. "I wouldn't want to be around him either."

I nodded, an unspoken understanding settling between us.

Jack. Jack was my focus.

He had to be.

Alistair was... something else entirely.

Whatever game that man was playing, I wanted no part of it.

Not tonight. Not ever.

I plucked a glass of champagne from a passing tray. The bubbles fizzed against my lips as my eyes scanned the glittering crowd.

And then I saw him — Jack.

He stood on the far side of the room, his auburn hair catching the soft glow of the chandeliers.

It was impossible to miss him, especially in that black and red tuxedo, haphazardly thrown on as though he'd dressed with more confidence than care. Half the buttons on his shirt were undone and his collar was slightly askew.

If I could just—

"Doris."

My body stiffened at Mr. Illion's voice.

I turned to him with a glare.

"Didn't I tell you to call me Beth?"

"Don't look at me like that." He raised a brow. "We're supposed to be a loving couple."

"I will lovingly spill my champagne on your shirt," I grinned at him.

He rolled his eyes briefly.

"You've been quiet," he said, his brow furrowing as he studied me. "I was getting concerned."

"I'm fine," I replied. "Just keeping an eye on Jack. I'm worried he might recognize me, so I'm thinking how to approach him."

"Is thinking usually difficult for you?"

I turned to Mr. Illion with a deadpan face.

"What's it with you tonight?"

His eyes softened slightly.

"You seem nervous."

I glanced up at him, startled by the sudden shift.

Was he taunting me to get me to relax?

"Thanks for the concern," I said softly, looking away. "But I'm used to managing on my own."

His lips pressed into a thin line.

"You're stubborn, you know that?"

"It's not like you could help, even if you wanted to," I said, forcing a lightness into my tone.

He exhaled a quiet laugh.

"Fair enough. My expertise doesn't quite extend to your field."

"But I appreciate the offer," I whispered with a sincerity I hadn't meant to show.

His hand lingered on my arm, the warmth of his touch seeping through the fabric of my ballroom black glove and into my skin.

"I should get another drink," I said abruptly, stepping back.

Mr. Illion nodded.

"I have some people to meet. Don't stray too far."

"I won't."

I watched him disappear into the crowd. The gala's warmth seemed to leech away in his absence, leaving a chill in its place.

I inhaled deeply, steadying myself, and returned my focus to Jack.

The ballroom felt fuller now, the throng of bodies more suffocating, the mingling laughter and chatter a dull roar in my ears. My gaze latched onto Jack as he effortlessly moved between groups.

If I could just get closer—

"Enjoying yourself, Miss Corday?"

The voice slid over me like ice, smooth and cold, stealing the breath from my lungs.

I froze.

Turning slowly, I found myself staring into Alistair's light blue eyes. He was dressed in a white and silver suit that shimmered faintly under the chandeliers, an ethereal contrast to the sharpness of his gaze.

The way he smiled at me made my stomach twist.

"I suppose it will be Missus Illion soon?" he said, his head tilting slightly, the question more of a taunt.

Goosebumps prickled along my arms.

"It's still Corday for now," I managed, though my voice sounded foreign to me—too small, too brittle. My heart thundered in my chest, the pulse deafening in my ears.

"Mm, careful," he murmured, his grin widening to reveal a set of perfectly straight teeth. "A man might take that as an invitation to steal you away."

His words curled around me, and I had no idea how to react.

I could hardly breathe.

"Is the gala to your liking?" he asked.

"Of course," I lied, forcing a smile that felt more like a grimace. "It's a lovely evening."

"Lovely indeed." His eyes dipped briefly to the neckline of my gown, lingering just long enough to make my skin crawl. "But I've noticed something peculiar — you haven't danced with anyone yet. I would love to be your first."

There was a suggestive edge to his words that made my breath quicken.

Every instinct screamed at me to refuse.

My fingers tightened around the stem of my champagne flute.

"I... think I should return to Rob," I said, my voice striving for steadiness but faltering.

"Oh, I wasn't asking," Alistair grinned.

My heart battered against my ribs, my pulse thrumming in my throat.

Refusing him outright would only draw more attention than I could afford. Slowly, I set my glass down on a passing tray, masking the dread clawing at my chest with a polished facade.

"I'd be honored then," I said.

Alistair extended his hand, the gesture elegant yet somehow menacing.

Reluctantly, I placed my hand in his. His grip was firm, his skin unnervingly cool, like marble brought to life. He led me toward the center of the ballroom, the other dancers parting without a word, their movements almost instinctive.

The music shifted, a haunting waltz that seemed to seep into my skin. Each note was heavy, as if the orchestra itself was in on the tension that wrapped around us.

He pulled me closer, his large hand resting on my waist with a possessive steadiness that made my stomach twist. His other hand enclosed mine, his grip just tight enough to assert control.

Alistair's movements were flawless, and yet there was an edge of unpredictability, a faint undertone of chaos that made me feel like I was waltzing along the edge of a blade. The room blurred around us, the other dancers dissolving into shadow. Only his piercing gaze remained, locking me in place as the music continued its slow, hypnotic pull.

"You seem tense," he said, his voice a mockery of concern. "Surely my company isn't so unpleasant?"

"Not at all," I replied, forcing the words past the tightness in my throat. "It's just been a long evening."

"Ah, but the night is still young." His lips curved into that same unnerving smile, as if he knew every secret I had. "And you, Miss Corday, have piqued my interest."

I forced a laugh, brittle and hollow, barely escaping my lips.

"I don't think I'm someone worth a second look."

"Your fiancé would beg to differ," he said, spinning me out with a fluid motion that made my black dress flare.

When he pulled me back, my back collided with his chest, firm and unyielding. He tilted his head just enough for me to follow his gaze. There, on the other side of the room, Mr. Illion stared right at us.

"Rob seems quite concerned for you," Alistair chuckled, spinning me out again only to draw me back in. "And we're such good friends. I feel rather hurt."

"Are you two really friends?" I asked, my voice carefully neutral.

His pale eyes glinted, like frost catching the morning sun.

He pulled me closer.

"Why wouldn't we be?" he mused, tilting his head. "We're of a similar age, with shared interests. We invite each other to these charming affairs. By all accounts, I'd say we're quite close."

"You know the saying," I countered, my voice finding a shred of steadiness. "Keep your friends close and your enemies closer."

His grip on my waist tightened, not painfully, but enough to send a chill rippling through me. He moved us effortlessly across the floor, our bodies pressed too closely together, my starry gown swaying like a shadow between his legs as we wove through the room.

"I don't think it gets closer than this," he murmured, his grin widening, his breath ghosting over my ear. "So, tell me, Beth. Are we friends... or enemies?"

Every nerve in my body screamed at the sound of my name, my nickname. I didn't remember ever telling him that.

His hand on mine was unyielding, steering me through steps that felt foreign, improvised, yet perfectly in sync. His control was absolute, but there was an edge of something feral beneath it, a precarious imbalance that made my pulse race.

"I'm no one to you," I said, my voice barely audible, each word trembling on the edge of a lie. "I'm no one at all."

"Oh, don't diminish yourself," he grinned, his teeth too perfect, too sharp. "If you've managed to burrow under Rob's skin, then you're someone worth watching."

"I don't wish to discuss my relationship with him," I said flatly.

He chuckled, a sound that slid down my spine like the scrape of a blade.

"You're quite the enigma," he mused. "Tell me, do you always keep people at arm's length, or am I an exception?"

I dropped my gaze, tracing the intricate marble floor beneath us in a desperate attempt to anchor myself.

"I don't know you, that's all," I said.

"Such a shame," he murmured, each syllable slithering over me like a noose tightening. "Because I know a lot about you, Beth."

The way he said my name, like a lover's whisper but with the bite of a predator, sent a cold shock through me.

What did he mean by that?

The ballroom blurred. The chandeliers' golden glow seemed muted, the chatter of the crowd distant and irrelevant. The haunting strains of the waltz stretched time to a breaking point, every step an eternity, every turn a descent deeper into my own panic.

I tried to hold onto the one thing I had. Dancing. Alister's movements, though flawless, increased their unpredictable pace.

Yet I could match him.

With each step he took, seemingly to get me to stumble, I met his challenge head on.

"You're not so bad at this," he smirked. "It's rare to find someone who can keep up with me."

My chest tightened. There was amusement in his eyes, but it was the kind that delighted in the slow unraveling of its prey.

Finally, mercifully, the music began to fade.

I started to pull back, desperate to reclaim even a sliver of space between us, but Alistair's hand lingered. He leaned in, his breath brushing my ear.

"Haven't you wondered where your mother has been?"

The air left my lungs in a sharp hitch. My steps faltered, my wide eyes snapping to his, searching for meaning in that infuriatingly calm expression.

"What are you talking about?"

He straightened, releasing my hand with deliberate slowness, as if savoring the moment. Adjusting the silver cuffs of his jacket, he smiled — a cold, knowing curve of his lips that made my skin crawl.

"If you want answers, Beth, just come and find me. Alone, of course. And as friends..." He tilted his head, his voice dripping with mock sincerity. "I trust you'll keep our little secrets."

His gaze lingered, a silent promise of something far more dangerous than anything spoken aloud.

Before I could collect my scattered thoughts, another voice cut through the oppressive tension.

"Miss Corday." The smooth, familiar tone of Coy brought me back, grounding me. "Would you honor me with the next dance?"

Alistair didn't so much as flinch. He inclined his head, the shadow of his smile still haunting his face.

"Enjoy the rest of the evening, Miss Corday," he said, and then he was gone, slipping into the crowd like a ghost, his absence somehow colder than his presence.

I managed a weak nod, my throat too tight to speak.

Coy's extended hand was a lifeline, his touch warm and solid as he led me into the next dance.

The music shifted, a softer melody threading through the room.

"You're trembling," Coy said as we danced on auto pilot. "Did he say something to upset you?"

I forced a weak smile.

"It's nothing. Just... the room is overwhelming."

His eyes behind his glasses searched mine, lingering as if trying to peel back the layers I'd hastily constructed.

"If you're sure," he said softly, though the doubt lingered in his tone.

"I am," I lied.

My gaze dropped to the intricate marble floor, my focus narrowing to the rhythm of the dance. I prayed Coy wouldn't notice how tightly I held on.

What did Alistair mean by that?

Did he know something about my mother? How much had he uncovered about me? The way he used my nickname, the way he spoke of her... It was like he already knew everything.

Could King have told him?

The thought coiled in my stomach, twisting painfully with doubt and dread.

Should I confront Alistair? Demand answers?

The mere idea of facing him again sent a shiver through me.

It didn't make sense.

How could Alistair know where my mother was when even I didn't?

"You're far away," Coy murmured, his voice soft, a subtle nudge rather than an accusation.

I blinked up at him, pulling myself back from the edge of my thoughts. I forced a weak smile.

"I'm here."

His eyes sharpened behind his glasses.

"He told you something, didn't he?"

My heart faltered, a sharp ache reverberating through my chest.

Alistair had warned me not to tell anyone what he said.

Can I tell Coy? Or even Rob?

What if speaking up endangered my mother somehow?

"He's just... creepy," I said, dismissing the question with a hollow laugh.

Coy didn't look convinced. His eyes held mine for a moment longer. But he didn't press further. Instead, he shifted the conversation to lighter topics, his voice filling the space between us with harmless chatter I barely registered.

The song finally came to an end. Coy released me with a polite bow, his movements as measured as ever.

"If you need anything..." he began, trailing off before finishing the thought.

I nodded, not trusting myself to speak, and turned away. The crowd around me felt denser, the air heavier.

No matter what, I just couldn't shake Alistair's ominous words.

What did he know about my mom? What can I even do about it?

I was still trying to steady myself when another voice cut through the haze.

"Doris."

I turned, my heart leaping at the sound, and found Mr. Illion there.

"Dance with me," he said.