Page 78 of Resist

“Mrs. Calvernon, please,” I started, “I-I can’t wear this. I have to find another dress—”

“There is no other dress!” Marissa almost screamed at me. “There isnothingelse.”

I felt the tears flooding my eyes. “I can’t do this,” I muttered. “I can’t step out there with my back exposed for everyone to see—”

“Enough,” Marissa cut me off. “And stop your crying. You’ll ruin your make-up.” Marissa stepped up to me, face stern and cold. “You will step out there, and you will remain poised no matter what happens. You will wear this stupid wrap and keep it on all night. Do you understand?”

I nodded, clasping my hands to my chest, my stomach in knots.

“Good.” Marissa looked down at the floor, pensive. “We’ll discuss this later, but for now,” she turned to face Wes, “donotpropose until I discuss this matter with your father and President De’vor.” She looked at me, emotions passing through. “I don’t know who you are, but I pray for your sake that you are who you claim to be, or I’m afraid you might find yourself in a most precarious position.”

Wes stood up straighter, his hands balling into fists.

Marissa narrowed her eyes at me, and then pointed at the four women who had dressed me, as well as the two men who had assisted Wes. “All of you are to remain quiet about what you have seen. Understood?” Everyone nodded, but I didn’t miss the frowns on their faces, or the way their eyes kept staring at me. Marissa gave me one last glare before opening the door to theparlor and leaving the room. The staff all tipped their chins to their chests and chased her out, closing the door behind them.

The room grew silent. I thought I actually heard air flowing over the thundering of my own heart.

“I’m sorry,” Wes whispered.

I inhaled deeply, shoving down the tears that so desperately wanted to fall, swallowing them, choking down my hurt. “It’s fine,” I said gruffly.

“Mara—”

“I said it’sfine.” I know my voice came out too sharp. It wasn’t his fault. But I was so embarrassed, so ashamed…and I still had to get through the night. I gripped the stupid wrap and fiddled with it to make sure my shoulders and entire back were covered. I was struggling to keep it together. All it would take was one pitiful look, one misplaced word, and the facade I was desperately trying to iron in place would crack and come tumbling down. How was I going to do this?

“Can I please say something?”

“I don’t want to hear it, Wes,” I snapped, turning to look at him, and then instantly felt awful. For once, I wasn’t greeted by a scowl or stoic mask. Wes looked…sad. The golden hue of his eyes was muted, allowing the green to shine through more than I had ever seen before. The corners of his lips were tipped into a mournful frown. I opened my mouth to apologize, but hesitated as he shifted, placing his hands in the pockets of his black slacks.

He looked away briefly before standing up straighter and setting his eyes on me once again. The sadness never left his gaze, but the right corner of his lips tilted upward into a shadow of his characteristic grin.

“No matter what they say,” he began, words soft and tender as he reached for his tuxedo jacket hanging on the rack, “you look beautiful to me. Always.”

My heart seized, and before I could utter a single syllable, Wes walked out of the parlor. I was left with a fresh wave of emotions I was barely beginning to understand and had no idea what to do with.

42: Those Hazel Eyes

Why did things always have to be so complicated? What does somebody do in a situation like this? Wes left me speechless, confused about what I felt for him and what he felt for me. But I was out of time. A gentleman arrived dressed in a tux and told me I was needed at the gala for my grand entrance.

Let the circus begin.

I knew the house had a ballroom, but I had never seen it before. The man escorted me through a set of double doors, and when I walked through, my eyes were greeted by a vast room lit by six enormous golden chandeliers, their crystals glittering in their own light. The room was two stories tall, and I was on the second floor, looking out from a balcony within the ballroom. One set of stairs led down to my right, and another set led down on my left. A live orchestra played below, music filling the air, and a huge dance floor sat in the middle. All around it were round tables decorated with tall, golden centerpieces with cascading ivies, pink peonies, white roses, and feathery fernfronds, giving the entire room a floral aroma. It was absolutely gorgeous. A sight straight from any fairytale.

And it came with its very own beast.

“There you are, Mara.” I recognized the voice the moment it grated my ears. Charles walked up the last step of the stairs, extending out a white gloved hand toward me. As much as I hated to admit it, Charles Calvernon was handsome and looked quite dapper. His black tux made his green eyes stand out, and everything about him was picture perfect—regal, royal, refined. A mirage masking the monster within.

“Mr. Calvernon,” I acknowledged, fear tickling within me. Had Marissa told him already?

Charles took my hand and lifted it to his lips as he bowed and then waved off my escort. While still holding my hand, Charles stepped backward to admire my appearance. “I must say that dress turned out better than I imagined.” With a small tug of my hand, Charles pulled me toward him and looped his arm around my waist, holding me close. “Too bad you don’t do it justice,” he chided quietly so only I could hear.

I winced, feeling the sting. “Mr. Calvernon, I can explain—”

“Oh, I intend to hear an explanation from President De’vor,” he stated, malice thick in his voice. He pushed away from me, twirling me out so I faced the audience below.

A voice boomed through the ballroom. “Introducing the First Daughter of Telvia, Miss Mara de la Puente, escorted by President of the North, Mr. Charles Calvernon.” Cheers rang from the people below, and then the music took over again.

Charles tugged on my hand, bringing my attention back to him. The impressive fake smile he wore, the calm and happy vibe he emitted…it was all a lie. He pulled me closer, draping my hand around the crook of his arm, and then started leading me down the stairs. “Tonight, Miss de la Puente, we dine, we drink, we dance. And tomorrow, we shall discover what is true andwhat is nothing more than the lies of a clever snake.” He smiled, waving to his guests as we reached the bottom of the steps, and then guided me out amongst the sea of elegant people on the dance floor.

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