The ballroom was a blur of gold leaf and predatory smiles.
As I descended the final steps, a sea of silk and tuxedos parted.
I felt like a specimen under a microscope; every smile felt like a hidden blade, and every compliment sounded almost genuine.
Joel and Estelle stood by my sides like two shields, something I was grateful for.
For the first time in a long while, I felt a sense of protection.
Joel was pulled away by a slender-looking man, leaving me with Estelle.
Estelle was a masterpiece of grace at my side, her hand resting lightly on my shoulder.
She navigated the room with the precision of a seasoned matriarch, introducing me to faces I had only seen in the leather-bound album.
"Isabelle, sweetheart, say hi to Aunt Clara," Estelle murmured, her voice like silk. "And Mr Grey, your father’s associate from the shipping conglomerate."
I smiled when necessary, tilting my head at the perfect angle. I carried the air of a woman who had simply stepped away for a week to clear her head before accepting her destiny.
To them, I was the runaway heiress who had finally come to her senses. They had no idea they were looking at a ghost.
"You look radiant, darling," a woman Estelle introduced as a board member of Quinn Enterprises, remarked, her eyes trailing over the heavy lace of my collar. "The week away clearly did you wonders. Most brides-to-be are a mess of nerves."
"I found the clarity I needed," I replied, my voice smooth and practised. "Duty has a way of grounding you."
"Welcome back, Isabelle. You made your parents worried when you disappeared," a short, slightly older-looking man who appeared out of nowhere chastised, his breath smelling of brandy.
"Isabelle, sweetheart, you remember your Uncle Julian, right?" Estelle murmured, turning towards the man with a predatory smile.
I searched for his face through the photo album in my mind. Julian Quinn. Joel’s half-brother, the illegitimate disgrace.
He had a lot of gambling debts and is bitter about his skipped inheritance.
"Of course," I replied, my voice steady and low. "It’s been a long time, Uncle Julian. You look dapper in your suit."
"You disappeared for just a week, but you should have seen your poor mum. No wonder you were hidden for the past three weeks after your return. You should stop causing your parents stress when your parents keep singing high praises of you." Julian leaned in, his eyes judging.
"I’m sorry for making you worried, Mum," I said softly, turning to Estelle. "I’ll never leave like that again."
Estelle’s eyes misted over; for a moment, I thought she was going to cry, but she blinked, regaining her regal yet motherly look.
"Silly child," she mused. "All that matters is that you returned to me."
My heart stopped, and the warmth I felt right then made everything worthwhile.
Uncle Julian walked away, grumbling under his breath when he saw he was being ignored.
I didn’t know why my attention kept drifting towards the doorway, hoping to see the imposing man with icy blue eyes, but he never appeared.
Wasn’t Cassian invited?
I steered my thoughts away and focused on the people around me.
I managed to navigate through the conversations, holding my end well without stammering, receiving approving nods from Joel and warm smiles from Estelle.
I was holding my ground ... I was actually surviving this.
When Estelle was pulled away by a flurry of late arrivals, the circle closed in.
My cousins, a group of well-dressed women and men alike, surrounded me instantly.
"So, Isabelle," a girl I remember as Stella drawled, swirling her champagne. "Where is the groom? The party started nearly an hour ago. It’s a bit... telling, isn’t it?"
"Cassian is a busy man," I said, keeping my expression neutral. "The Knight heir doesn’t run on a social clock."
"Or perhaps he just doesn’t value this union as much as your parents do," Stella’s brother Dominic added, a small, nasty smirk playing on his lips. "I heard he didn’t even show up for the preliminary contract signing. Is he always this... distant? Or are you just a placeholder for the alliance?"
The underhanded comments stung, but not for the reason they hoped.
They were testing my pride, looking for the crack in the "Perfect Isabelle". Except they had no idea I was a totally different person.
"Cassian and I have reached an understanding that doesn’t require public displays for validation," I lied, my voice gaining a sharp, authoritative edge that silenced the table. "Our union is about more than just a dinner schedule. It’s about a future you’d all be wise to respect."
"Oh."
"I didn’t mean to sound—"
"I know," I interrupted Stella, smiling calmly. "I need to go up and touch up my makeup."
One by one, they began to excuse themselves, their tails between their legs. I guess they hadn’t expected the "soft" Isabelle to have such a bite.
I realised Roxanne remained. She was Isabelle’s closest cousin, and she kept watching me with sharp eyes and an unreadable expression.
I instinctively straightened in her presence.
She leaned in, her voice a low, conspiratorial whisper.
"That was a good performance, Isa. But let’s be real. Does the man you love know you’re actually going through with this? You said you could never marry someone you didn’t love. Does he know you’re officially trapped in this arranged marriage? What happens to your relationship?"
My heart stopped, the memory of the real Isabelle’s secret affair flashing in my mind.
"You know?" I blurted out, the surprise catching me off guard. "You know about the man Isabelle is having an affair with?"
I froze the second the words left my lips.
Isabelle.
I had spoken as if I were referring to a different person.
"I mean, me..." I stammered, my face heating up as I tried to claw back the mistake. "Y-you know about the man I’m in a relationship with—"
Roxanne stiffened. Her eyes didn’t just widen; they fixed on something behind me. Her face went pale, and she straightened her posture instantly.
"Mr. Knight," she said, her voice tight.
Fear, cold and jagged, shot through me. I turned abruptly, my heels catching on the hem of my dress. My balance faltered, and before I could steady myself, I collided with a wall of solid heat, expensive charcoal wool.
The glass in my hand tilted.
A pale splash of champagne erupted across the crisp white shirt of the man standing there.
I looked up, my breath hitching in my throat.
Cassian was looking down at me, his jaw set, his blue eyes darker than the ocean in a storm.
Did he just arrive? Had he been standing there long enough to hear what I said?
The scent of sandalwood and rain filled my senses, and for a moment, my thoughts were a jumbled mess.
"Hello Isabelle," Cassian drawled, his voice a low, dangerous rumble that made the glass in my hand tremble. "You seem...like I’ve intruded upon a secret."