The Puppeteer

Chapter 13

As I stepped into the grand ballroom, I was immediately enveloped in a sea of flashing cameras and blinding lights. The air was thick with the scent of designer perfumes and the hum of conversation, a cacophony of sound that was both overwhelming and familiar. I had been to countless events like this before, always playing the role of the perfect, picturesque daughter of Victor Deluca.

I hated these things, the way they made me feel like a prop, a mere accessory to my father's empire. But I had learned to navigate them with ease, to smile and laugh and make small talk with the who's who of the business world. It was a skill I had honed since childhood, one that had been drilled into me by my father's constant demands for perfection.

Lily, on the other hand, seemed to be enjoying herself, giggling and smiling as she tried to keep up with the older men's jokes. I watched her with a mixture of amusement and envy, wishing I could be as carefree, as unencumbered by the weight of my family's expectations.

As we made our way through the crowd, I was stopped by various executives and dignitaries, all of whom wanted to shake my hand, to kiss my cheek, to fawn over me like I was some kind of prize. I was polite, posed, the perfect marionette, but inside, I was seething.

One man, an older gentleman in his early fifties, caught my eye, his gaze lingering on my breasts with a level of intensity that made me feel uncomfortable. I took a sip of my champagne, trying to ignore him, but I could feel his eyes on me, boring into my skin like a cold, calculating weight.

And then, I saw him.

He was standing across the room, leaning against the bar, his eyes fixed on me with an intensity that made my heart skip a beat. He was tall, imposingly tall, like my night stalker, and for a moment, I wondered if it was him, if he had somehow managed to infiltrate this exclusive gathering.

But as I looked closer, I saw that it wasn't him, or at least, I didn't think it was. This man had dark hair, but his eyes were different, a deep, piercing gray that seemed to bore into my soul. They were eyes that seemed to see right through me, to the very heart of me, and I felt a shiver run down my spine as our gazes met.

He looked almost pissed, his eyes narrowing as he watched me, his jaw clenched in a way that made me wonder what he was thinking. I felt a flutter in my chest, a sense of unease that I couldn't quite explain, and for a moment, I forgot about the crowd, about the cameras, about everything except for him.

We stared at each other, the world around us melting away, and for a moment, I felt like I was drowning in the depths of his eyes. It was a feeling that was both exhilarating and terrifying, a feeling that left me breathless and wanting more.

I stepped onto the dance floor, my heels clicking against the polished marble as I was swept into the arms of yet another executive vying for my father's attention. This one was older, his face lined with age and experience, his eyes gleaming with a calculating intensity that made my skin crawl.

As we waltzed across the floor, his hand settled low on my back, his thumb tracing the dip in my spine with a familiarity that made me shiver. I forced a smile onto my face, playing the role of the dutiful daughter, the perfect representative of Victor Deluca's empire.

"Mr...?" I trailed off, my eyes flicking to his face as I waited for him to fill in the blank.

"Richardson, my dear," he replied, his voice low and gravelly. "I've been trying to get in touch with your father for weeks. I have a proposal that I think would be of great interest to him."

I nodded politely, my mind racing with the familiar script I'd memorized as a child. "I'm sure my father will be in touch, Mr. Richardson. He's always eager to hear new ideas."

Richardson's eyes narrowed, his grip on my waist tightening as he pulled me closer. "I hope so, Amelia. I've heard great things about your father's... entrepreneurial spirit. I believe we could mutually benefit from a partnership."

I felt a shiver run down my spine as his thumb continued to caress the nape of my neck, his touch sending a wave of unease through me. I glanced around the room, searching for a distraction, but my eyes couldn't find the one person I'd been hoping to see - the mysterious stranger who'd caught my eye earlier.

As we twirled across the dance floor, Richardson continued to press me for details about my father's business dealings, his questions probing and insistent. I parried each one with ease, my responses practiced and polished, but my mind began to wander, searching for an escape from the suffocating grip of my father's empire.

"Tell me, Amelia," Richardson said, his voice low and husky, "what do you think about your father's plans for expansion? Do you think he'll be interested in exploring new markets?"

I forced a laugh, the sound bright and artificial. "I'm sure my father will always be interested in exploring new opportunities, Mr. Richardson. He's never been one to shy away from a challenge."

As the music drew to a close, Richardson's hand lingered on my back, his fingers tracing the curve of my spine with a possessiveness that made my skin crawl. I pulled away, my smile still plastered on my face, but my eyes flashing with a warning.

"It was lovely dancing with you, Mr. Richardson," I said, my voice cool and detached. "I'm sure my father will be in touch soon."

As I turned away, I felt a hand brush against mine, a fleeting touch that sent a spark of electricity through me. I spun around, my eyes scanning the crowd, but there was no sign of the mysterious stranger. Instead, I was faced with a sea of expectant faces, all waiting for their turn to dance with the daughter of Victor Deluca.

I took a deep breath, my mask slipping back into place as I smiled and laughed and played the role of the perfect daughter. But my eyes continued to scan the crowd, searching for the one person who'd made me feel alive, if only for a moment.