Love Sucks

Enticement - Chapter One

"And, after all, what is a lie? 'Tis but the truth in a masquerade."

Alexander Pope

***

Abbi let the truck door slam shut behind her, the movement making her skirts swish.

Around her, the estate was flushed with white columns and shiny brick, red roses sprouting from the flower beds and bushes churned around the gardens.

Abigail slowly made her way down the paved road, small rounded trees growing on either side. Escalating rows of marble steps directed her to two wooden doors with intricate designs carved into their grain. Beside each door stood a duo of firmly straight footmen with glassy skin, greasy slicked back hair, and fine matching tuxes.

They smiled feral smiles at the guests, whom streamed through the door like water into a ripped and open filter.

Abbi felt uncomfortable as she approached the doorway. That nagging voice in the back of her head wouldn't shut-up, constantly giving her excuses of why she shouldn't be here. And by the way her heart raced and her palms began to get clammy, Abbi might've been listening to them.

Shakily, she picked up the hem of her dress, making the trip up the stairs and clamping down on her morbid thoughts. As Abigail reached the entrance, she could see, from the corner of her eye, one footmen smirk. His dark eyes gleamed like glossy oil as he watched her. Repressing a shudder, Abbi followed the rest of the guests into the manor.

The first thing she noticed was the golden, buttery light extending into the full ball-room, then the classical violins pulling long, elongated notes from their bases. A small chatter, pricked with laughter and questions and conversing, broke the air of music.

Abigail moved slowly, too in awe of her surroundings to do much more. Her eyes were wide and took in every curve of the tall ceilings above, the aureate walls, and the chandeliers that hung like icicles of glass.

Many ladies and young men turned their way among the subtle crowd, all decorated in long floor-length gowns of multiple color; half of their faces veiled in masks.

It was beautiful, the sight of something to prestigious and elegant. Abbi had never really been to something of this magnitude before.

Then, still in her own reverie, she came to heart of the ball. Abbi had to peer over the heads of taller guests before she caught a glimpse of them.

They were like an impassive wall of perfection, she thought, her curiousity spiking.

As Abigail came to a stop, her eyes implored them up and down. The women had dresses of gold and silver and red, some with midnight blues and dark maroons, but overall their skin was as white as granite, and their eyes dead and cold. The men held an air of superiority around their arrogant stance, and their faceless masks prominent on their equally pale skin.

She was caught in their enigma, almost like the beauty had hypnotized her. Abbi swallowed hastily, shaking her head in attempt to regain composure. Continuing into the throb of ball gowns and tail coats, she tried to forget the beautiful people.

The violins slowed down, and the waltz had begun to pick up in the dancers. Abbi, being partner-less, adjusted her mask and moved to the side, allowing the rest of the couples to turn and swing in time to the music.

Abbi knew there were eyes on her before she even swiveled to look at their owner.

"You rarely see someone as pretty as yourself without a partner to dance with," spoke a voice close to her ear, indescribably silky and charming.