My new space looks breathtaking, not even in the least occupied by the king-sized bed against a wall across from the balcony's windows.
I don't care to take in my new environment, but I do notice the view that's a sky with shades of blue and white, fog gazing back from the distant mountains.
The sight reminds me of my Villa. How I would sit on the balcony for hours, listening to the nightingales' melodies while watching butterflies dance between steel railings.
It's a core memory, but I don't intend to leave it that way for a long time. Just as I don't want to make memories of this place too, as I'm unsure what this is about.
Yivlen prepares a bath before I sink into the warm water and revel in its glee.
It has been so long since I enjoyed such simple pleasures. Surely, a year and four months is enough to miss out on many things.
"Your dress is set, ma'am, for the party," Yivlen says, standing on edge at the door, and I regard her awhile.
For some reason, I sense a strange tension coursing through me—a feeling that seems to remind me of my place; that I must act in a certain way not to be regarded as a villain again.
But then I don't even know what's going on.
Why the sudden formalities?
Even Madam Kwakye had been surprisingly nice, as one would never catch her staying that calm after being defied, not for a second.
"What's happening?" I ask.
The girl doesn't hesitate to answer. "The First Heir sent word across the mansion. You're to be treated as a White."
Ha, jokes? What's the catch? I feel urged to ask that. But it's probably a private topic between Hunter and me. He gave the order, and he'll tell me why. In fact, there's a list of things that need explaining. A long… long list.
I still find it hard to grab his thoughts; to read him. And he's becoming more confusing by the hour.
Is he trying to play a game with me? Because if he is, then I'm out—I'm not fucking signing up for that.
I've grown less keen on attending the party too. All I want is to retire now that I have the chance. But with the thoughts of Hunter running across my mind every second, sleep won't come easily.
I need to speak with him, yet my head advises against it just as my heart urges.
Yivlen seems to flinch when I suddenly rise from the water. I notice her eyes are on the floor. It could be guilt or shame, but I'm not about to find out.
I don't mind the girl, walking past her to the room while tugging at the flannel of the cotton red bathrobe I'm wearing. I soon stare blankly at the emerald, dinner gown she prepared before she makes to carry it.
"I'll wear something casual," I utter, stopping her action. My mouth stays open. I feel the need to say more, something less… demanding? "I'm sorry for the trouble." Yivlen nods and heads to the wardrobe. My voice stops her in her tracks. "I'll get it myself. You can leave now. Thank you."
I release a deep breath I don't know I've been holding, watching the girl take off.
There's this pressure weighing on my shoulders that I do not appreciate. And hearing the thumping beat of pop music from downstairs pretty much convinces me it's my heart beating.
I wear a chunky gray knit jacket over a tucked black-green top and high-waist denim pants, then loop a scarf around my neck.
I don't bother pulling my loose hair out of the clothes before heading to the party hall, where the crowd is barely seen through dim blue and red flashes.
Amidst cheers and loud music blaring through the speakers, the first person I set eyes on is Saturn, and while my initial intention is to hang around for some time and return to my room, I can't resist the urge to approach Hunter when I spot him at the drink counter.
I can only see a small part of his back and head between the dancing folks. But I know it's him, since his silver hair and broad shoulders are not very shy.
The voices in my head are loud and clear this time, only I can't tell if it's my thoughts or Wants have developed voices.
'Go, Heidi!' They whisper. 'Fall at the man's feet.' Okay.
'Lick his boots.' Cringey.
'Chew his nails.' Definitely no!
'Slurp his length.' Ooh.
'Pet his dick.' Oh, yess!
'Feed his lust.' Uhm…
Okay, now that's getting TOO steamy—think the mind really does play games?
I stare at him for a second, then at Saturn, torn between the two who to approach first.
After some time, I push through the crowd to the girl in a satin dress who has her butt crashing against her lover's crotch, a glass of drink in her hand.
"Saturn, my phone, I need it now," I demand, my voice raised over the music.
Saturn lazily rises to her full height and turns to me with a nonchalant expression. Her tousled hair falls over her face, and her breath reeks of alcohol when she slurs, "Yourrr what?"
"My damn phone!" I repeat. But I don't think the girl's listening.
She shouts back, "Don't know! You should find it in one of these hearths." The fucking hearths? There are about eleven of them and she expects me to start digging around each one for what, ashes?
"Gods, no, Saturn!" I sigh. How did my phone end up there in the first place? Ask me again why the girl disgusts me.
And the best she can do is burp. "Oops, sorry," she says with a sheepish smile, starting a drunken giggle.
I should biff her on those perfect teeth of hers, shouldn't I? But maybe the cheap phone isn't worth my punishment after that. I only use it for Hunter's sake anyway, and his social media handle has become a cell in my brain.
Ignoring the intoxicated girl, I push myself toward the drink counter, locking my gaze on Hunter's back and counting my strides to him.
I'm gonna keep my eyes on the guy. Why? —because men are prone to run away. Forgive my reeking insensitivity, but that is the truth. The motherfucker has been avoiding me all this while, so not again.
If he tries to dash or escape the situation with a bloody death glare, I'd take a bold move and pull him right onto me. Snog the hell out of his damn lips and leave him hanging, wanting, growing a proper Vlad—whatever you call it.
He's gonna find me then. If not for anything, because his dick's no longer listening to him. It'd be a boss of its own, calling for me. And I'll hesitate a little to that call before... oh well.
Heidi, you silly goose—