Twisted Desire

Chapter 5: First Encounter

The air was heavy with anticipation, thick like the velvet curtains draped around the ballroom. The opulence of the gala was overwhelming gold chandeliers hung from the ceiling, casting shimmering light across the sea of well-dressed people, their conversations a quiet hum of murmurs and laughter. The sweet, intoxicating smell of expensive wine filled the room as servers glided gracefully between the guests, offering glasses of deep red liquid.

Adira stood by Dante’s side, her body stiff, her mind elsewhere. Her fingers tightened around the delicate stem of the wine glass she held, but she barely noticed the soft tremor in her hands. Tonight, like every night, she was expected to be the perfect fiancée the perfect woman. But beneath her calm facade, she felt like she was on the verge of shattering.

Dante’s arm rested possessively around her waist, his fingers pressing lightly into her side. The subtle pressure reminded her that she was on display, that her every movement, every word, was being watched, scrutinized. His grip felt like a chain around her, invisible but undeniable. Adira could feel his power radiating from him, a suffocating presence that always seemed to press in on her, trapping her in a world where there was no escape.

He was speaking to a group of investors, men who were just as cold and calculating as Dante himself. They laughed at his jokes, nodded in agreement with his business propositions, and looked at Adira with something akin to admiration though she knew better. They admired her like one would admire a work of art, something beautiful but lifeless.

“Adira,” Dante’s voice broke through her thoughts, pulling her back to the present. His tone was smooth but firm, laced with an unspoken command. “Why don’t you go and introduce yourself to Mr. Harris? He’s been waiting to meet you.”

She swallowed, her heart skipping a beat. It wasn’t a request, and she knew it. Dante didn’t need to say anything more. With a small, forced smile, Adira nodded and excused herself from the group, her footsteps quiet against the polished marble floor as she made her way toward the far end of the room.

As she moved through the crowd, she could feel the eyes of the guests following her, their gazes lingering on the curve of her back, the length of her dress, the way her hair fell in soft waves around her shoulders. She had been dressed for Dante’s approval tonight, wearing a deep crimson gown that hugged her body like a second skin, its plunging neckline revealing just enough to keep the men in the room intrigued.

But none of it mattered to her. Not the dress, not the eyes that followed her, not the conversations she was expected to partake in. All she could think about was the tight coil of anxiety in her chest, the constant weight of Dante’s expectations crushing her with every step she took.

Mr. Harris was waiting near the grand piano, his eyes lighting up when he saw her approach. He was older, with graying hair and a slight paunch, the type of man who had accumulated wealth and power over decades of ruthless deals. His smile was oily, his eyes roaming over her in a way that made her skin crawl.

“Ms. Adira,” he greeted her, his voice smooth and practiced, “I’ve heard so much about you.”

She forced a smile, offering her hand politely. “Mr. Harris, it’s a pleasure to meet you.”

His handshake lingered a moment too long, his fingers brushing against her skin in a way that sent a shiver of discomfort through her. She quickly withdrew her hand, masking her unease with the kind of grace she had perfected over the years.

“Dante speaks very highly of you,” Mr. Harris continued, his tone low and suggestive. “You must be quite the woman to have captured his attention like this.”

Adira nodded, biting back the bitter taste that rose in her throat. “He’s very kind.”

Kind. The word felt like poison on her tongue. She wondered what these people would think if they knew the truth if they could see behind the curtain Dante so carefully kept in place. Would they still admire him? Would they still look at her with envy?