MALLEABLE

CHAPTER SEVEN

confluence : the merging of emotions

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S A B R I N A

I have no idea why I agreed to this.

Was it the idea of a legendary group performing string quartet at the opera house? Was it my love for violins that convinced me to go in place of father as the cheif guest?

With Quinton.

It's true that I have always appreciated good music and violins, especially, held a special place in my heart. I was just a beginner at the instrument myself, but watching experienced musicians play the instrument always fascinated me.

But was my love for music so great to pull me out of my misery and enjoy for the evening?

With Quinton. .

That man infuriated me with his controlling ways and his precise and methodical ways of measuring his words before speaking.

I could tell, he pondered over each word that left his mouth and never uttered a useless sentence. It was as if he was trying to hide something. Something sinister and dark.

Is that what I caught flashing in his dark eyes every once in a while?

But something about his mystery captivated me, it was twisted and hypocritical of me to be so compelled towards his unyielding way of doing things.

The way the room quieted down and everyone would get alert just by his mere presence. It was something about his personality, the way his piercing eyes studied me and dared me to lie or disobey him.

But it was all eerily hidden behind an intricate mask.

My hand traced the light mark on the back of my neck, hidden under a layer of makeup as I stared at my blood red cocktail gown with artistic details trailing down the length of the dress.

My hand traced my bare thigh through the high slit of the dress as I slid on transparent and shimmery fishnet stockings.

My red hair styled perfectly over my right shoulder with crystals pinned in layers looking like dripping gold embellished with priceless jewels. My lips painted deep red and my eyes smoky with sheer glitters over my eyelids.

My whole persona looked so mature today. I've heard Renee, my forever makeup artist and designer, fleetingly mention that it was all selected by Quinton, while she was styling my hair.

I've no idea how he could master it so perfectly.

But it was him I was talking about. Of course everything would be perfect.

It had been almost two years since I was dressed up in all red for an event. The ball where we first met was the last time I tried to pull off a complete red look.

Red was a color that was too bold for me. It required courage and confidence to pull off, both of which I was currently lacking.

At that time, I was reassured by my father's presence. But now, it was among complete strangers.

Except Quinton.

But did I really know him though? He was a mystery and was multifaceted, he was the most honest and at the same time a hypocrite. He treated me like a kid who was immature one minute and then, like a woman who was to be desired.