Cassie was beyond pissed.
She'd had enough of being thrown out of rooms. For hours after that humiliating debacle, she stewed in a silent rage, trying her best to shut out Madam Piper's ceaseless scolding and nagging—at an earsplitting hundred decibels, no less.
Some days, she missed duct tape even more than a smartphone. It would do that bitch some good.
As for Dane? No duct tape needed there. She would savour the feeling of strangling him with her bare hands, followed by a hard kick in the balls; reduce him to a bawling mess on the floor and teach him the lesson that men weren't as strong and superior as they pretended to be.
The thought of dressing nicely and smiling provocatively for him now made her want to vomit. At least she no longer felt any sense of impending regret about leaving this place forever. Seduce him, get home, and hasta la vista, baby.
In a magnificent gown of deep red with gold embroidery along the hem, she sauntered into the ballroom for the grand finale—the last evening of the ball and the night her seduction would come to fruition. With an off-shoulder cut, a low neckline showing just the right amount of cleavage, even with a matching veil covering half her features, in an instant she gripped the attention of all.
When she walked, the silken skirt of her dress parted to reveal a tantalising glimpse of her shapely legs through a slit that extended to her thighs. It was nothing compared to the translucent gowns on the Hollywood red carpet of modern Earth, but to most here, it was scandalous enough. Which was the whole point. It was designed to capture the attention of men and make their imaginations run wild. It was designed to snare a king.
From the moment of her entry, their eyes found each other across the grand ballroom. With a goblet in hand, Dane's eyes lingered upon her, tracing the lines of her body. A healthy swig of wine later, he made his way towards her.
It was unfair how handsome the dickhead looked in his black and gold doublet with breeches that hugged his muscly legs. It was a fortunate thing that strangulation and admiration were not mutually exclusive. Who said she couldn't admire him and then strangle him? Or vice versa?
Forcing a soft smile onto her lips, she continued to hold his gaze as she started towards him.
But he stopped. Halfway across the room, he turned to face a young woman with flaming red hair and extended a hand in invitation. Beaming, she placed her hand in his, and together they began a dance to the music.
For the second time in a day, What in the actual fuck?
Men of all shapes and sizes soon approached her from all angles of the room, vying for a dance with tonight's alluring Lady in Red.
Still stunned by the unexpected rejection, Cassie allowed herself to fall into the arms of some baron she could not possibly pronounce the name of.
"What is your name, milady?" he asked.
"A girl has no name," she bullshitted absentmindedly.
It was rude of her, but she continued to half-arse her way through her dance partner's sorry attempts at engaging her in conversation, for her sole focus was on glaring a hole into the back of Dane's head.
When the song finally ended and the next began, Dane turned to the next girl, and Cassie accepted the invitation of the next man. More meaningless small talk. More virtual arrows and bullets and missiles sent his way.
One song became ten, one hour blended into the next, and he continued to ignore her whilst she watched from the arms of strangers.
At one point, a nobleman pulled Dane aside. They chatted amiably for two minutes, then the man introduced him to Miss Pink and Miss Blue. Perfectly trained noble mannequins they were, they curtsied perfectly, then each had her turn to dance with him.
YOU ARE READING
Bride to the Cursed: a Snow White retelling
Fantasía[COMPLETED] When a king makes an order, he expects it to be followed. When King Dane divorced his wife, he expected her to get out of his sight and stay out of his sight. Not reappear three months later in his bed, spouting nonsense about being a 'l...
