Something Borrowed

Chapter 1: Choices

            I curtsied demurely in the mirror with a mischievous glint in my eyes, twirling my glass of champagne in my left hand before taking a welcome sip. I stood before the tall top lit mirror in the quaint women's room in Shangri-La Hôtel, absorbing the power I felt from being welcomed back into society. It has been almost four months since my abrupt departure, which makes tonight that much sweeter.

"Be modest, be humble, be gracious," I said in a haughty tone, a hint of a sneer spreading on my lips as I mocked my mother. "Without these people, we wouldn't be where we are today, amends must be made, alliances must be preserved," I continued, inwardly rolling my eyes.

I owed nothing to these people. But my mother seemed to think I owed them my utmost civility, so here I am, in a fiery red ball gown, standing in front of this mirror in the heart of Paris, preparing myself to profess my most sincere apologies to people I can hardly tolerate. Although, this crusade to mend my honor could be in a worse location far outside of the hub of Paris, so who am I to complain?

The location of the hotel is lovely, placed between the Arc de Triumphe and the Eiffel Tower, bordering the River Siene. Most girls my age and status would be dying for the opportunity I have this evening, fawning over the luxury and grandeur of the entire event, eager to please the elite. But this has never been my home, and my reputation reflects that.

Eligible bachelors and placid women surround me; I hate them, and I hate what they have forced me to endure here at these insufferable parties. The gossip, the mindless conversations, the hateful stares, and having to constantly watch my back. My pride will not allow me to succumb to their docile nature. I have never been a level tempered, submissive girl, and I have never had the patience for the gossip they plague the halls with. I prefer my solace. I prefer being an island in a sea of webbed alliances. I've never been any good at making friends with the likes of the women here.

"Tis a luxury to be among the elite," I said haughtily, mocking my mother's look of disdain when I begged not to attend this evening. I let out a huff, twirling around the room on the balls of my feet, trying to cool my temper. "Oh, how I did not miss these events, gallivanting around like cattle waiting to be plucked off one by one by men who bore me."

I gently roll my red lipstick across my lips, setting my champagne flute on the counter beside me. I fixed my hair that was pulled back into a curly mess on the back of my neck, softening it around my face. I braced my hands on the counter, batting my lashes, highlighting my big blue eyes, feigning the innocence I hadn't had since I was seventeen. I used to have a conscience, I used to be somewhat like them, but a lot has changed since I was seventeen and doe eyed. I am not that little girl anymore. I am a woman, twenty-two, ready to take on a partner, a man who I will spend the rest of my days with. I just hope he is reasonable.

I smack my lips, pleased with the color rising to my cheeks as I lean closer to the mirror, fixing my long, cascading, blood red dress. The back was completely open in a soft V-shape and I had a long, thin, diamond chain necklace that nearly kissed where the dress began on my lower back. It was tasteful and current, effortlessly exuding Grace Kelley poise with a modern twist. It had a heart shaped neckline and flared at my natural waistline, highlighting my tiny waist. It was far from a showstopper, but it made a statement. I was no longer the wild child arriving in scandalous Parisian couture; instead I was the woman seeking a husband. I was finally taking this thing seriously, or at least that is what I was supposed to portray. I've never desired a husband, every person at this event is aware of that fact, but I must find a husband, a mate, someone to have as an eternal ally.