Chapter 171
Iris
“You’re sure you can handle this?” Arthur asks, his hand resting on the small of my back. We’re standing just outside the ballroom entrance, about to make our reappearance.
I take a deep breath, smoothing the front of my new black dress. It’s simpler than the emerald gown–a sleek, form–fitting sheath with a high neck and tasteful slit up one side–but the fabric is luxurious, and it makes me feel powerful somehow. Like
armor.
“Yes,” I confirm, lifting my chin.
Arthur offers me his arm, and I place my hand on it, holding my head high as we step back into the glittering ballroom. The effect is immediate–conversations falter, heads turn, eyes lock onto us. I can already hear the whispers rippling through the crowd.
“She’s back…”
“I heard they tore her dress to shreds…”
“Look at her, acting like nothing happened…”
I keep my expression neutral, refusing to show any sign that the stares and whispers affect me. Inside, my stomach is twisting with nerves, but I won’t give anyone the satisfaction of seeing me rattled.
As we move through the room, I notice different reactions. Some women raise their glasses slightl
glasses slightly in what seems like a gesture of respect. Others whisper behind their hands. A few men look at me with newfound interest, as if my ability to withstand an attack has somehow made me more worthy of their attention.
But there’s one comment that particularly catches my attention.
“Seems like a publicity stunt, don’t you think?”
My step falters slightly at that, my head swiveling to see who said it, but I can’t make out who it was. The suggestion that we would fake an attack for positive press is absurd, but I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised by the skepticism. Politics is a dirty game, after all.
Diplomatically ignoring the comments, Arthur leads me toward a large table near the front of the room, where his parents are already seated. I smile politely as Arthur pulls out my chair. “Thank you for inviting us to sit with you, Mr. and Mrs.-“I stumble. realizing I don’t actually know how to address them.
“Wendy is just fine,” Wendy says, her smile not quite reaching her eyes. “And my husband, Leonard. We’re all family here, after
all.”
Family. The word catches me off guard. Ten minutes ago she was looking at me like I was something she’d scraped off her shoe, and now we’re family? But then again, I guess the first impression they had of me wasn’t ideal, not by a long shot.
172
#20 Bonus
“Of course,” I reply, taking my seat. “It’s a pleasure to meet you both, finally.”
Leonard gives me a curt nod. “Quite the entrance you’ve made into our lives, young lady.”
I’m not sure if he’s referring to tonight’s events or my sudden appearance as Arthur’s mate, but either way, I feel like I’m being tested. “Not exactly how I planned to introduce myself,” I admit with a soft laugh, hoping that if they’re anything like Arthur, bit of humor will diffuse the tension. Arthur has never talked much about his parents, so I’m not sure what their personalities are like.
“Few things in life go according to plan,” Leonard says, lifting his wine glass. “Adaptation is key.”
I let out a small breath of relief. Seems like I was right to attempt humor.
A server appears
appears, placing plates of exquisitely arranged food in front of us. The first course is some kind of salmon tartare delicate herbs and edible flowers. I stare at it for a moment, trying to remember which fork to use. Arthur subtly nudges the correct one toward me.
“So, Iris,” Wendy begins once the servers have retreated, “Arthur tells us you’re an artist. How fascinating.”
Her tone suggests it’s anything but fascinating, but her smile seems genuine enough. I decide to take her interest at face value, at least for now.
“Yes, I’m a painter,” I reply. “I recently received a residency at the Abbott Gallery, actually.”
“Abbott?” Leonard’s eyebrows rise slightly. “That’s quite prestigious. You must be talented.”
“She is,” Arthur interjects, his hand finding mine under the table and squeezing gently, “You should see her work. It’s extraordinary.”
