Page 7 of French Quarter Heiress

He raises an eyebrow, his voice dripping with condescension. "Love? Love is a weakness, Elise. A tool for lesser beings. As a Delacroix, your duty is to your family, to your clan. Nothing else matters."

I take a deep breath, my voice trembling but determined. "Please, Father. Give me another chance. I will bring down the wolves, I swear it. But I cannot marry the fae prince. It would kill me, father."

For a moment, I fear he will strike me. His eyes blaze with a fury that sends shivers down my spine. But then, to my surprise, he relents.

"Very well, Elise. You shall have your chance. But know this - if you fail me again, the consequences will be severe. I will not hesitate to do what is necessary to ensure the survival and dominance of our clan."

I bow my head, relief and fear warring in my heart. "I understand, Father. Thank you."

With a dismissive wave of his hand, he turns away. "Go, then. Prepare for the upcoming gala. We must show the city that the Delacroix clan is as strong and influential as ever."

I nod, turning to leave. As I reach the door, my father's voice stops me in my tracks.

"And Elise? This is your last warning. Do not fail the coven."

I swallow hard, my voice barely above a whisper. "I won't, Father. I swear it."

As I step out into the hallway, I let out a shaky breath. The weight of my father's expectations, the pressure to prove myself worthy of the Delacroix name, feels like an almost physical burden.

But beneath the fear and the shame, there is a flicker of something else. A sense of determination, of purpose. I will bring down the wolves, no matter the cost. I will show my father, and the entire city, that Elise Delacroix is a force to be reckoned with.

With a newfound resolve, I make my way to my chambers to prepare for the gala. The grand ballroom is a sea of glittering jewels and pale, perfect faces, a testament to the wealth and power of the vampire elite.

As I descend the grand staircase, the room falls silent. All eyes turn to me, some curious, some envious, some filled with barely concealed disdain. I hold my head high, my face a mask of perfect composure.

But even as I mingle and charm, my mind is racing. The encounter with Beau, the dark secrets he hinted at, gnaw at the edges of my thoughts. What terrible truths could be lurking in the shadows of the Delacroix legacy?

As I sip from a crystal flute of blood-laced champagne, my gaze is drawn to a new face in the crowd. Tall and lean, with angular features and eyes that seem to shift between blue and green, he moves through the room with an almost otherworldly grace.

I recognize him immediately. Adrien Mercier, the fae prince my father spoke of. The one he wants me to marry, to forge an alliance between our families.

As if sensing my gaze, Adrien turns. Our eyes meet across the room, and I feel a jolt of something I can't quite name.

Interest, perhaps.

Or maybe fear.

He begins to make his way towards me, a slow, deliberate prowl that sets my nerves on edge. I force myself to stay still, to keep my expression neutral, even as my heart races in my chest. "Lady Delacroix," he purrs, bowing low over my hand. His lips brush my knuckles, a fleeting touch that sends shivers down my spine. "It is an honor to make your acquaintance."

I incline my head, my voice cool and polished. "Prince Mercier. The honor is mine."

He straightens, his eyes meeting mine with an intensity that steals my breath. "Please, call me Adrien. I have a feeling we're going to be seeing a great deal of each other in the coming days."

There's a hint of something in his voice, a double meaning that sets my teeth on edge. I force a smile, my grip tightening on my champagne flute.

"Is that so? And why might that be, Prince Adrien?"

His smile widens, a flash of white teeth that reminds me of a shark's grin. "Oh, I think you know, Lady Delacroix. Our families have much to discuss, much to... negotiate."

The implication is clear. The marriage, the alliance. The future of the Delacroix clan, and my own fate, hanging in the balance.

I take a sip of my champagne, letting the bubbles dance on my tongue. "Perhaps. But I'm afraid I'm rather preoccupied at the moment. The wolf problem, you understand."

Adrien's eyes glitter with amusement. "Ah, yes. The mongrels. I heard about your little... setback at the plantation. Such a shame."

I bristle at his words, my eyes narrowing. "A temporary setback, I assure you. The wolves will be dealt with, and the Delacroix clan will emerge stronger than ever."

He leans in closer, his breath ghosting over my ear. "Of that, I have no doubt. But perhaps you should consider... alternative solutions. After all, there are more ways than one to skin a dog."

---