Amara had been dancing with each of the Blackwell brothers, the evening unfolding with an ease she hadn't expected. It was strange—she had never been the type to throw herself into new social situations so easily. But tonight was different. She had been nothing but confident since entering the ballroom, holding her head high, and letting the world take her as it would. The Blackwell brothers, with their imposing stature and complicated personalities, had not shaken her at all.
She had danced with Sulivan Blackwell, whose aloof nature made him almost impossible to read, and Damien Blackwell, whose gruffness seemed to hide a quieter intelligence. Even Liam Blackwell, the youngest brother, had been unusually blunt with her, though his attitude didn't deter her. By the time she reached Alden Blackwell, she was beginning to feel a sense of power she hadn't realized she had.
Alden, however, had a way of making the air thick with tension. He was quiet, brooding, the complete opposite of her sunny disposition. For a long time, he had been silent, his expression unreadable, but after a while, the frustration on his face became more and more apparent.
"Why didn't you wait for me?" he asked, his voice filled with a strange mixture of irritation and something else she couldn't quite pinpoint.
Amara tilted her head in confusion. "Wait for you for what?"
Alden's face immediately darkened, his lips tightening. "I promised Father I would take you shopping," he said, his voice cold as ice.
The mention of his promise was almost too much for her to handle. She had expected an apology, or at least some acknowledgment of her independence, but instead, she got a guilt trip. For a brief moment, she faltered. But then, the amusement hit her.
"You're quite cute!" she teased, her lips curling into a playful grin.
Alden's face flushed red with discomfort at the word "cute," his expression souring in an instant. But rather than being affected, Amara found herself in a strange mood lift. His flustered state was simply too precious to ignore.
Before Alden could retort, Damien Blackwell appeared. His eyes, dark and steady, had been following her movements throughout the evening. Unlike his brothers, who had been distracted by the festivities, Damien's gaze had never wavered from her. He was a mystery, his motives and intentions unclear, but one thing was certain: he wasn't going to let her go without making his mark.
Amara raised an eyebrow as Damien's stare continued. Her confidence never faltered. "What are you looking at?" she asked, her voice firm, yet not unfriendly.
Damien smiled, but there was something calculating in his eyes. "I'm trying to figure out if you have ambition," he replied, his tone measured, almost like he was making an evaluation.
Amara blinked, her eyes narrowing slightly. Another brother, another challenge. But unlike Alden's subtle guilt trip, Damien's words were a direct jab. She could feel her patience thinning.
"Mr. Damien Blackwell, I think you're thinking too much. If I had the option to refuse, I wouldn't have come. I'm not interested in becoming the center of attention for New York's social elite. I'm here because I choose to be, not because of some desperate desire to fit in," she said, her tone firm, her gaze never leaving his.
Damien, however, wasn't convinced. He stepped closer to her, his proximity making her stomach flutter slightly, though she would never let him see it. "Little peasant," he started, his words deliberate and harsh, "don't think you can just waltz into our world because of Diana. You'd better keep a low profile, or you'll regret it."
Amara's eyes sparked with fire. No one told her what to do. Without thinking, she stomped hard on Damien's foot.
"You—!" Damien cut himself off, staring at her, his face contorted in pain. The shock of her action left him speechless. He had underestimated her, and now, his fury was evident, but there was something in his gaze that changed. He saw her for who she truly was now: someone who wouldn't be easily controlled.
"Brother, did you hurt yourself?" Amara said with exaggerated concern, masking the amusement that danced in her eyes.
Damien's jaw clenched, the anger visible on his face, but before he could retaliate, Amara spun around, her swift movements carrying her into the waiting arms of Elias Blackwell.
"Then I'll dance with Elias. This is the dance I've been looking forward to the most tonight," she said, a playful smile spreading across her face as she looked back at Damien with a gleam in her eyes.
Damien's face turned an almost dangerous shade of red, but he couldn't say anything more in the middle of the crowded ballroom. Amara knew she had won this round. She would deal with the rest of the brothers later.
Elias, who had been watching the exchange with a hint of amusement, gently placed his hand on her waist, guiding her onto the dance floor. His touch was steady, and unlike his brothers, there was no tension in his posture. Elias had a warmth that Amara had noticed since the very first time they met. He made her feel as though she was exactly where she needed to be.
"You've definitely managed to stir up trouble with all of them—except Liam," Elias observed, his voice low and teasing.
Amara smirked. "It's their fault for provoking me," she said, the edge of playfulness not leaving her voice.
Elias smiled, a soft chuckle escaping him. "Mm, standing your ground is never a bad thing," he agreed, his gaze softening.
Amara looked up at him, her curiosity piqued. "Why don't you hate me like they do?" she asked, her voice quieter now, but no less confident. "You've been so kind to me."
Elias's smile deepened, and there was something warm in his eyes that made Amara feel something she hadn't expected: a sense of belonging. "Because, little Amara, I know that no matter what happens, we'll always be family. Even if Diana and Father's marriage falls apart, nothing can change the fact that we're in this together. And," he added with a playful wink, "I've always wanted a sister. And now that I have one, it's my job to protect and cherish you."
Amara's heart fluttered at his words. There was no pretense with Elias. He wasn't like the others who saw her as a stranger. He genuinely cared.
"And the others?" she asked softly, her voice almost doubtful. "They don't hate me, do they?"
Elias chuckled softly. "They just need time," he explained. "They've always wanted a sister, but it's been hard for them to adjust to this new reality."
Amara paused, reflecting on his words. "Really? You're all brothers from the same mother and father?"
Elias nodded. "Of course. We've always been a family, even if it's a bit complicated sometimes."
The two of them danced for a while longer, moving with a grace that only seemed to come when they were together. Amara's earlier concerns faded as Elias's words and presence gave her a sense of comfort and security she hadn't realized she needed.
After several songs, Elias led her off the dance floor, his eyes still on her with a softness that made her heart race. "When did you get hurt?" he asked, his voice suddenly concerned.
Amara looked down at her right hand in surprise. There was a small patch of dried blood on her index finger.
Her mind immediately flashed to the Yellow Rose she had picked earlier in the night. It had been thorny, and she must have scratched herself while handling it.
Before she could respond, Elias took her hand in his, bringing her finger to his mouth and gently sucking the blood off. The sudden intimacy of the action sent a shock of warmth through her body.