The Garden
449 Words
The ballroom lights were dazzling, the music relentless, but Brittany needed air—or maybe she just needed distance.
She slipped away from the floor, her heels silent against the marble as she pushed through tall glass doors and into the garden beyond. The night air was cool, fragrant with roses and rain-soaked earth. Torches flickered along the stone paths, their flames swaying with the breeze.
She thought she’d escaped unnoticed.
“You shouldn’t wander off alone,” came a smooth voice behind her.
Brittany didn’t startle. She turned, finding Matt stepping into the moonlight, his black suit cutting a perfect silhouette against the silver glow. His blue eyes caught the torchlight, sharper than ever.
“Worried about me?” she asked, her tone a delicate mix of mockery and curiosity.
His lips curved into something that wasn’t quite a smile. “I’m worried about what might happen if someone else finds you first.”
She tilted her head, studying him. “Funny. I thought you’d be the dangerous one out here.”
“I am.” His reply was soft, but the weight of it sank into her bones.
They stopped beneath a marble archway, the vines above them whispering in the wind. He was close now, close enough for her to feel the coolness of his presence, close enough that she could see the faint scar at the corner of his jaw—a flaw that somehow made him even more perfect.
“You’ve been watching me,” Brittany said, her voice low.
He didn’t deny it. “You’re a Valeris. Of course I have.”
“That’s not an answer.”
Matt’s gaze darkened, his voice dropping to a dangerous whisper.
“You shine like fire in a room full of shadows. Do you really think I could ignore you?”
For a moment, the world around them disappeared. The party, the guests, even the weight of their families’ feud—all melted into silence.
Brittany’s breath caught, her heart betraying her with its quickened rhythm. She should have pulled back. She should have remembered the blood oath her family carried against his. But instead, she took a step closer.
“Careful, Matt,” she murmured, her green eyes blazing into his. “You’re playing with fire.”
His lips brushed the edge of a smile, dangerous and knowing.
“Maybe I want to get burned.”
And just as the tension between them reached its breaking point—
a voice cut through the garden.
“Brittany.”
Her father’s. Low, sharp, laced with fury.
She froze.
Matt didn’t move, but his eyes told her everything: their secret moment had just turned into a dangerous game.
- Writer
