Foreign Affairs ❥ lrh

Chapter Four: Daydream

Violet was holding a small bouquet of flowers, scanning the ballroom full of people dressed head to toe in luxurious fabric and foreign sophistication when a tall, blue eyed daydream blocked her view.

"Just when I thought you couldn't get any more beautiful," Prince Luke of La Gracía mused, holding her gaze with his own. Her breath was stolen immediately out of her chest and hung in the air between them. She glanced around but no one had turned to see them.

"You shouldn't say that," she couldn't think of anything else to say. Her mind was blank; all she could see were his high cheekbones, the soft curls framing his face and his delicate hands reaching out to her.

How was he being so bold? She didn't even know him. This was the first time they'd spoken tonight. She was pretty sure she had been looking at him from across the room since she got here but didn't dare approach him.

His hands reached around her waist as he walked toward her. Dumbfounded and frozen, she looked around at the crowd of people behind them but still no one noticed. Did no one care? Did the princes just get away with everything here?

"Violet," he said, looking down into her eyes. "Violet. Violet." He repeated her name as he ran his hands down her body, reaching behind her. Her heart dropped out of her chest as she tried not to let her knees give out. She couldn't even remember what she was wearing but she liked the feeling of his skin against the fabric way too much. Why was she letting him do this? But she couldn't bring herself to stop him.

"Violet," a voice called from behind her and she turned around.

Violet's eyes shot open as she saw Sage in front of her, lit softly by the early daylight coming through the window in her room.

"Hey," she whispered. "We should probably wake up and get ready."

Violet looked around the room and ran her hands through her hair, shaking her head. She was home; she wasn't at Camellia. Prince Luke's hands were definitely not running all over her.

It hit her just how ridiculous it was for her to have a midnight visit by royalty deep in her sleep. She might even venture to say pathetic. He barely knew anything about her. Just her name... if he even remembered it. There was no reason for him to.

"Hello?" Sage was staring at her, watching Violet's mind race. She was refreshed, newly showered and had on a heavy winter robe. How Sage wasn't muscling her way through a deep hangover right now, Violet didn't know. "Are you okay? Wet dream or something?" She snickered, clearly joking, as she flung Violet's closet doors open and walked inside.

She was grateful Sage was turned the other way as she was sure the expression on her face would've given away the fact that she wasn't far off. She excused herself to the bathroom, telling her she'd be back to pack. Once she closed the door behind her, she looked at herself in the mirror and saw her cheeks were flushed and her hair was messy. She doubted there was a way to rescue it; a shampoo and condition was necessary.

The water was bordering on scalding when she stepped in and lathered her hair up with foamy bubbles. It felt nice, having the heat cascade down her body in the dead of winter. She gave herself lots of time to scrub from her shoulders down to the soles of her feet and do a ten minute hair mask.

She, very pointedly, was not thinking about anything or anyone while her body was hot and wet. Just dresses she already owned that she could wear, or what she was looking for in a dress if she had to buy a new one. Obviously, her top choice would be an Ellie Saab, but Bergdorf Goodman would have a selection of other good designers as well. She relented finding out about the ball so close to the event; in a perfect world she would've had one custom made, but she had lots of options so she couldn't complain.