The door opens and the second woman steps out, her expression serene, almost peaceful. Like she’s just confessed her sins and been granted absolution.
“Excuse me,” I say before she can pass. “Do you happen to know where I can get a red envelope?”
She pauses, her gaze sweeping over my white dress with something like pity. “You have to bring one, sweetie. Otherwise…sorry.”
And with that, she’s gone. Her heels fade down the corridor, leaving me alone in the empty corridor.
I stand there for a moment, frustration burning through my veins. Of course there’s something that is gonna go wrong. Story of my entire life—always one locked door away from what I need.
But I’ve come too far to turn back now.
I push through the red door and step into a room that steals my breath.
Candles line the perimeter, their flames dancing against walls painted the deepest black I’ve ever seen. But here, the gold leaf has been replaced with swirls of scarlet red that twist and curl across the dark canvas like blood flowing through midnight veins. It’s captivating.
I force myself to refocus on the center of the room where a large podium stands. Atop it sits a red box with a golden lock securing the latch—one of those antique pieces you’d find in an estate sale, lovingly preserved and polished until it gleams. The whole space radiates an aura of decadent sin, of secrets whispered and wishes granted to those brave enough to ask.
My eyes sweep the room, searching for anything I can use. A pen. Paper. A spare envelope tucked in some corner.
Nothing. Just candlelight and shadows and that beautiful box.
I place the borrowed makeup beside the box, my mind racing. I need something red. Something I can write on.
My gaze drops to my shawl but there’s no way I’ll uncover my back or shoulders. Then I look to my dress. My mother’s perfect white silk confection with its delicate pearls and crystal chips. The dress she chose to present me as a sacrifice to Magnus Sterling.
A dark smile curves my lips.
I reach down and grip the fabric near the hem where the material pools in excessive folds. The silk resists for a moment, then gives way with a satisfying rip. I tear away a rectangle large enough to write on, the sound of destruction echoing through the sacred space like a battle cry.
The red lip liner feels like a weapon in my hand as I smooth the silk against the polished surface of the box’s lid. My fingers tremble with fear from the magnitude of what I’m about to do.
I press the liner to the fabric and let my desperation flow.
I wish to be free of my father. Free of Magnus Sterling. Free of the cage I’ve been trapped in my entire life. I don’t care what it costs. I don’t care who helps me. I just want to choose my own path for once. Please. I’m begging anyone who reads this. Save me from the life they’ve planned for me. My only available currency is my virginity. - Persia Fiore
I pause. Can I put that on there?ShouldI put that on there? Do I care?
Fuck.
I look at the words written in a very permanent red. I guess it’s too late to worry about it now.
God, what has come of my life? I hang my head and toss the lip pencil aside. I can’t submit this. What would the person who reads this think of me?
The words blur as tears spill down my cheeks, ruining what’s left of my makeup. The betrayal I feel cuts so much deeper than any physical beating my father has ever inflicted. The scars on my back will heal. But the way he’s simply discarding me...
Being passed off like livestock to fix his debts? Being handed to a monster who looks at me like I’m already his property?
The wound tearing my heart in half will never close.
I fold the silk carefully, my tears spotting the delicate fabric and slide it into the cut out slot.
For a long moment, I simply stand there, my palm pressed against the cool surface of the box, wondering what happens now. Do I go back to my friends and pretend I didn’t just pour my soul onto a scrap of my engagement dress? Do I wait for my father’s men to find me? Do I?—
“What has such a beautiful woman crying?”
My heart rate spikes. I draw in a sharp breath and spin on my heel, nearly losing my balance on the marble floor.
An elegant man stands in the doorway. And he is anything but ordinary. My brows pull together when I find his dark, captivating gaze with mine.
