Amelia Clarke shook off the security guard's grip on her arm, her tone calm and composed, "There's no need to trouble yourself, I can leave on my own."
She fixed her gaze on the entrance to the banquet hall, her eyes steady and her steps composed, radiating elegance and poise, except her fingers were tightly clutching the fabric of her dress at her side.
"Amelia!" Suddenly, a familiar magnetic voice rose from behind her.
Amelia's footsteps halted.
The banquet hall was so quiet that one could hear a pin drop—she could hear the dull sound of dress shoes on the carpet, drawing ever closer.
Finally, a familiar scent filled her nostrils.
"How could you leave without saying a word?" the magnetic, deep voice asked from above her.
