Juliet Must Survive | 𝒂𝒂𝒍𝒊𝒚𝒂𝒉.

Chapter 22

The music, the smells, the laughing... it was all so overwhelming.

When Carl had told her that she had to give him something, Trish would've rather been tortured in a medieval-style dungeon than this special kind of hell that he'd brought her in. As it turned out, the man had other, more unconventional plans for his captive than simple physical torture. No, he had to disturb her psyche, shake her to her core, catch her in blind sight.

After a whole day of seclusion, save Agent Johnson's visit, Trish was finally moved to a big mansion near Havana which was surely where Carl resided when he was in Cuba. There, another room was attributed to her, though this one was much more luxurious and comfortable than the dingy jail cell-like one from before. She was also assigned two maids who were ordered to 'get her ready'.

Trish had assumed this either meant mortal combat or some kind of fight, but when the maids came back with a beautiful, pink, Edwardian-like ball gown, she was initially confused. They then dressed her up, layering a few petticoats over a modern-made bust, fastening a corset around her waist to support her chest and adding the gown over the under-dressing, finally decorating it with ribbons and jewelry. When Trish finally looked in the mirror, she had been transformed into an aristocratic lady... a real nightmare.

It didn't hit her until she had to come down the long staircase of the lavish mansion with Carl waiting for her downstairs also dressed in fancy Edwardian attire; she was to be paraded as his prized captive.

So now, there she was, in a ball organized by the bad guy, being used as a show piece in whatever devious plan he was concocting.

Carl always held her tightly near him, as to remind her and everybody else present that she was under his control. Trish had to suppress the urge to rip his hand off her waist and punch a hole in his stomach whenever he introduced her to some of the more important guests, purposefully making her feel small and unpowerful.

From across the ballroom, she could see Tania, also dressed up like a high society woman, standing awkwardly in her corner, a drink in hand. She seemed lost and out of place, but Trish had no sympathy for her. She was a traitor and deserved to feel remorse for her actions.

"... and this is Trish O' Day, daughter of one of my most esteemed business partners," she heard Carl say to another one of his guests, shaking her up a bit to redirect her attention to them.

Trish forced a smile. "Yes, Mr. Raines and my father have a very intense friendship, one might say it's explosive," she gritted through her teeth.

Like the weapons you sell him.

"A very interesting choice of words indeed, Miss O' Day," Carl pretended to laugh, briefly glaring at her.

"Well, I saw the numbers and you seem to be a very worthy business partner, sir," one of his guests spoke, a middle-aged Chinese man with a thinning hairline. "I wouldn't mind having a piece of the pie."

"You might find it a bit too undercooked," Trish said in a sweet, innocent voice that made Carl clench his jaw very tight.

"You must excuse my companion," he told the man, smiling through the embarrassment, "she is quite humorous tonight."

"Just the kind of wit we need," his guest took Trish's hand and firmly shook it. "You are a breath of fresh air, Miss O' Day!"

She respectfully nodded, turning to Carl showing all of her pearly whites. As long as she could make him look like a fool, even possibly steal his spotlight, this could turn to a success for her and ultimately for her dad too.

"I believe it's time for a dance," her captor quickly changed the subject by fear of being upstaged, "as host, it's only right that I start off with the first dance. Would you mind, Miss O' Day?"

Trish wanted to say "yes, I do mind, asshole" and proceed to kick him where the sun doesn't shine, but being in the position she was in, she could only nod politely and follow him as he escorted her to the middle of the ballroom. She could feel everybody staring at them, most likely including Tania, some of them knowing what was going on, but most of them having no clue of the depts of Carl's orchestrations.

No doubt he knew that Trish had no experience whatsoever with any kind of ballroom dancing, which would make her mistakes and struggle to keep up even more riveting for him. But for her, the goal was to manage to stay up and avoid getting stepped on by Carl.

As they positioned themselves for a waltz, Carl stared directly into Trish's eyes, smirking deviously. "You think you can destroy my plans by running your mouth some more? I thought you smarter than that," he whispered, sending chills down her spine.

"Getting me all dressed up won't get me to shut up," she said, squinting at him. "I don't know what you're planning, that's true, but you bet I'll make your life a living hell as long as you're keeping me here."

Carl slightly chuckled, shaking his head. "Nobody's ever put you in your place and it shows. Your dear father is too weak to go against his beloved daughter and your beau... Well, the fact that you think he might not have the Triad's interests to heart astounds me."

"Han's not part of the Triad," Trish held her breath, "we might've had our differences, but he would never, ever betray me like that. Don't you ever bring that up again."

"As you wish," Carl smiled to himself before signaling the live band to start playing.

A jazzy waltzing rhythm filled the air, echoing through the ballroom. Acoustic guitars tenderly played, accompanied by drums, violins, cellos and a grand piano. The guests had all gathered in a circle around the host and his dance partner as they opened the ball. Trish was able to dance pretty well despite her poor experience, much to Carl's displeasure.

But barely a few moments after they'd started dancing, the loud sound of glass shattering on the floor suddenly turned everyone's attention to the ballroom's entrance.

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