A surprisingly mild winter's evening painted the perfect backdrop for the Jauregui Foundation Christmas Ball, the lack of finger-freezing frost in the air causing a sigh of relief for all involved. An exclusive and elite event, no expense had been spared: the imposingly breath-taking town hall had been hired out, a doorman with a voice smoother than velvet had been employed, and a glass of complimentary champagne –1996 Boerl & Kroff Brut Magnum, only the best for the fortunate attendees – on arrival.
The delicate clinking of glasses and a subdued bubble of laughter crept under the main doors and gently tapped the ears of the two elegant figures, immobile at the top of the stairs. One, a 23-year-old woman, the other, her 18-year-old brother, both dressed to impress in their tailored suits and custom made leather shoes.
"I just don't see why we have to attend," The boy grumbled, eyes crinkling with frustration as he glared at the source of the merriment, hidden from his scathing gaze by the oak doors and the waiting doorman.
"It's only once a year, and we are already late because of you and your grooming," His companion chided him, but there was no real severity behind her words – she, too, disliked the pressure of this annual ball. Her brother grinned at her words, quickly adopting a mock-arrogant pose.
"But I have got to look good for the laaaddiiiiiessss, at least one of the Jauregui siblings has game – hey!" His cheeky remark was cut off as his sister quickly and ruthlessly flattened the hair that was the cause of their tardiness. She chuckled, but the morose expression adorning his face quickly sobered her up and she waved his hands away, stepping into his space and efficiently restoring his hair to its former glory.
"It's for Mum, and Dad," She reminded him, gently smoothing his lapels, "And you know how important this ball is for them. So let's go in there and make them proud," She clasped his forearm, turned and strode towards the doorman, his face betraying only mild irritation at the siblings' reluctance to enter as soon as they had arrived. She nodded, her brother by her side. The doorman smiled and opened the door, allowing his deep voice to resound around the room.
"Lauren and Chris Jauregui!"
"And by the way, we both know that I have infinitely more game than you, little brother," Lauren winked and descended down the stairs elegantly, leaving her brother behind with his mouth gaping open.
"Oh, thank God," Lauren exhaled as she allowed the dark amber liquid to slip down her throat and ease her tension. Her jacket now unbuttoned, she had escaped to the bar after her parents had introduced and re-introduced her to all of the 'important' people in the room – which, due to the exclusivity of the event, was an awful lot of people.
A familiar hand appeared next to her, signalling the bartender, and she raised an eyebrow.
"Following in my footsteps, little one?" She teased, knowing how much he hated the nickname.
"Just trying to avoid Alie," He mock-whispered, ducking his head as said woman appeared in his peripheral vision. Lauren just smirked and took another long sip of her Macallan 1926, the indulgent liquid sending pleasant warmth through her veins. She was more than used to the line of girls and women falling at Chris's feet; his rusty hair and cheeky-but-charming demeanour had successfully hooked him many a partner, something that he delighted in. However, as Lauren knew all too well, some women simply just didn't get it, 'it' being the knowledge that one night wouldn't turn into two.
Alie was one such woman, and although Lauren empathised with her brother, she found it amusing nevertheless.
"Who is that?" Chris's stunned voice broke her reverie, and as Lauren followed the path of his gaze, she completely understood why – she was stunned, too.
