Aethelgard.
High-society balls were either boring or mind-numbingly dull.
At this moment, Shalma Hughes wore an ostentatious, floor-length red evening gown. Her ink-black hair was elegantly swept up, and a priceless diamond necklace rested against her collarbone. Her waist was so slender it looked as though it could snap at a touch. Her exquisitely made-up face was charming but not overly seductive, exuding an effortless, innate elegance. She leaned casually against the staircase with a glass of wine, watching the men and women swirling on the dance floor below. This kind of event was incredibly tedious, but she had to attend one every week for work—as unavoidable as a woman's monthly period.
"Ms. Hughes, may I have this dance?" a youthful voice called out from behind her.
Shalma cursed inwardly. She gave her wine glass a gentle swirl and turned around with practiced elegance. As her alluring eyes landed on the newcomer, a bright smile instantly blossomed on her face. "Ah, Mr. Grant! It's an honor to be asked to dance by the Vice President. How could I possibly refuse?"
Felix Grant was the only son of Chairman Grant of the Grant Group. He had been pursuing Shalma for half a year now. Unfortunately for him, his affections were entirely unrequited. The moment the two glided onto the dance floor, they instantly became the center of attention. After all, they were a strikingly handsome man and a gorgeous woman. Humans were highly visual creatures, naturally drawn to beautiful things.
"Shalma, are you free this weekend?" Anticipation filled Felix's handsome face. He had been chasing the woman now mere inches away from him for a full six months. He had spent fortunes on her; whatever she seemed to like, he would have his secretary buy it, only for her to return every single gift without fail.
Shalma offered a sweet, charming smile. "I'm so sorry! I already have plans this weekend, Mr. Grant."
She wasn't deliberately brushing him off; she truly was busy. He was returning from a business trip to Eldoria, and they had arranged to meet at a hotel this weekend.
"I see! What a shame," he said.
"Mr. Grant, we can always schedule another time." Shalma kept the smile plastered on her face. Even though he wasn't her Lord Benefactor, she couldn't afford to offend him. He was, after all, one of her clients.
Right at that moment, an obsequious voice drifted into her ears. "Mr. Winslow... Mr. Winslow! You've finally arrived. Your presence is a tremendous honor for us."
Executing a graceful spin in the dance, Shalma glanced toward the source of the voice. She saw the organizer of the ball bowing and scraping. And the man receiving such extreme deference was none other than...
He was back. He had returned a full two days early.
Julian Winslow's noble face was completely expressionless. His hawk-like gaze swept across the dance floor. Even hidden behind the lenses of his glasses, his black-diamond eyes were overwhelmingly radiant and impossible to resist. When his line of sight landed on that splash of bright red in the middle of the dance floor, the corners of his lips curved into an unfathomable smile.
Catching that look, Shalma deliberately stumbled.
"Ah!" Felix let out a muffled yelp of pain as she stepped on his foot.
"Oh no! I'm so sorry, Mr. Grant. My stomach is hurting a bit. I need to go," Shalma said, feigning a pitiful and pained expression.
Seeing his crush unwell, Felix stopped dancing immediately. He gently guided her off the dance floor and into a quiet corner. "Shalma, are you alright? Do you want me to take you to the hospital?" he asked, his handsome face etched with genuine concern.
"No, no, it's fine. It's just an old problem acting up." Shalma shook her head repeatedly, pressing a hand to her stomach. "Alright! I'll be taking my leave now, Mr. Grant. Let's keep in touch by phone if anything comes up."
With that, Shalma practically fled the banquet hall. Lifting the hem of her evening gown and walking in four-inch heels, she descended the hotel stairs as steadily as if she were walking on flat ground, looking as elegant as a haughty queen.
She had just reached the hotel entrance and extended a slender hand to hail a cab when a blinding beam of light suddenly flashed over, forcing her to squeeze her eyes shut.