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I meet his gaze, letting the steel in my eyes answer for me. “I won’t let anything happen to her.”
Tragan nods once before melting back into the crowd. I exhale slowly, responsibility settling on my shoulders like an old friend.
My eyes find Ariana again. She’s moved to another group, chatting animatedly with one of the younger guests. The light catches in her hair, making it glow like a halo.
If she knew who I really am... Would she still look at me like that? With warmth and curiosity instead of fear and disgust?
CHAPTER 9
ARIANA
The brush in my hand scrubs rhythmically against the floor, each stroke removing layers of grime and stress. The repetitive motion is almost soothing, letting my mind wander, though it inevitably circles back to Valen. His imposing figure looms in my thoughts as much as it does in reality.
"How are you today?" His voice startles me, smooth yet carrying that undercurrent of authority I can't ignore.
I glance up, and there he is, towering over me like a golden sentinel. His green eyes seem to pierce through the very fabric of my being. "I'm... I’m well, thank you," I stammer, trying to focus on the floor rather than his intense gaze.
"Good," he says with a faint smile that doesn't quite reach his eyes. "Because I'd like to have you join me for dinner tonight."
Dinner? With him? My scrubbing slows to a halt as I process his words. The casual way he mentioned his 'involvement in destruction' at the party still lingers in my mind. What does he want from me?
His proximity is both intoxicating and intimidating. Every rational part of me screams to refuse, but then there's that inexplicable pull—curiosity mingled with undeniable attraction.
I take a deep breath. "Alright," I finally say, hoping my voice doesn’t betray the tumult inside me. "Dinner it is."
"Excellent." His smile widens slightly, revealing a hint of satisfaction. "Seven o'clock then. I'll have someone bring you appropriate dinner attire."
With that, he turns and walks away, leaving me to grapple with my decision and the fluttering in my chest.
I pick up the brush again but find it hard to concentrate. The memory of his touch when he caught me at the party sends shivers down my spine. There’s something about him—something dangerous yet magnetic—that makes resisting impossible.
The day drags on with its usual chores but with an undercurrent of anticipation now threading through each task. By the time evening approaches, I find myself nervously adjusting my simple dress, wondering what tonight holds.
One of the other maids leads me through the winding halls of Valen's estate, her footsteps echoing softly against the marble floors. As we step onto the veranda, I'm struck by the breathtaking view of Armstrong under the stars. A table set for two sits under a canopy of twinkling lights, casting a warm glow over the intimate setting.
"Here you are, Miss Ariana," the maid says with a polite nod before disappearing back into the house.
Valen is already there, standing with an air of relaxed confidence that makes my heart race. He gestures to the chair opposite him. "Please, have a seat."
I sit down, smoothing out my dress and trying to ignore how out of place I feel in this opulence. Valen pours two glasses of wine and hands one to me.
"To Armstrong," he says, raising his glass.
"To Armstrong," I echo, clinking my glass against his. The wine is rich and velvety, its taste lingering on my tongue.
He sits down and studies me for a moment, his green eyes gleaming in the soft light. "How was your day?"
"Busy," I reply, taking another sip of wine to steady myself. "But interesting."
"I'm glad to hear that," he says, leaning back in his chair. "You seem to be adapting well."
I smile despite myself. "I suppose I have no choice but to adapt."
He chuckles softly. "True enough. Life has a way of throwing us into situations we never expected."
A servant arrives with our first course—a delicate salad with ingredients I've never seen before. The aroma alone makes my stomach growl softly.
Valen catches it and raises an eyebrow. "Hungry?"
