The Ice King's Chubby Fixation

Chapter 9: The Correction

POV: Elowen Hart

Maya did not speak much.

She was tall and thin, with sharp cheekbones and eyes that missed nothing. Her hands moved fast as she measured me. Her tape went around my waist, my hips and my bust. She wrote numbers on a small pad that I did not get to see.

"Stand straight," she said.

I obeyed and stood straight.

She pulled the green dress from the garment bag. The silk made a soft smooth sound, like water over stones. The colour was deep and rich, the green of a forest at dusk. It was the most beautiful thing I had ever seen up close.

"Step in," Maya said.

I stepped in. She pulled the dress up over my hips, my stomach, my chest. The silk slid against my skin like a whisper. She zipped it up the back, and the dress settled around me like it had been waiting for my body all along.

"There," she said. "Look."

She turned me toward the mirror.

I did not recognize the woman standing there.

The dress draped my curves instead of hiding them. The neckline showed the soft swell of my chest without making me look exposed. The waist sat exactly where it should, and the skirt fell to the floor in a smooth green line. I turned a little, and the silk moved with me. I looked like someone who belonged somewhere.

Maya stood behind me, her hands on her hips. "Well?"

"I do not know what to say." My voice came out strange, thick with something I did not want to name.

"Say nothing. The dress says enough."

She helped me out of it carefully, like it was made of glass. "I will have it delivered to your apartment tomorrow morning. Do not eat anything messy before the gala. Do not sit on anything dirty. And do not let anyone spill anything on you."

"I will try."

"Don't say you will try. Just do as i say."

She packed the dress away and left without saying goodbye.

The next evening, I stood in front of the mirror and did not recognize myself again.

The dress was on. My hair was pinned up, a few soft curls falling around my face. I had found an old lipstick in my bag, a deep berry colour, and put it on with a shaking hand. My shoes were the same cheap secondhand ones I wore to work every day. They would have to do.

Maya had left a small card in the garment bag. Heads up. Shoulders back. You are wearing his money. Act like it.

I took a deep breath. I lifted my head. I pulled my shoulders back and walked out the door.

---

The gala was held in a ballroom on the top floor of the Voltaire Tower. I had never been to this floor before. The lift doors opened into a world of gold and crystal. Chandeliers hung from the ceiling like frozen fireworks. The floor was white marble. The windows showed the whole city spreading out below, dark and glittering.

People were already there. Women in gowns that cost more than my yearly salary. Men in black suits with watches that caught the light. They all looked magnificent like they belonged.

I stepped out of the lift. My heels clicked on the marble. A few heads turned my way. A woman in a red dress looked at me, she turned and looked again. I did not know if the second look was a good look or bad one. I kept walking anyway.

A server passed with a tray of champagne. I took one. The glass was cold in my hand. I held it like a shield.

"Elowen."

The voice came from behind me. I turned.

Livia stood in a gown of sheer white. The fabric clung to her slim body like frost on a window. Her hair was loose, spilling down her back in pale waves. She looked like an ice sculpture. Beautiful, cold and slightly untouchable.

Her eyes moved down my body. From my pinned-up hair to my berry lips to the green silk draped over my curves. Her mouth opened a little. Then it closed.

"Where did you get that dress?" Her voice was not sweet now. It reeks of jealousy and envy.

"Mr. Voltaire's stylist brought it to me."

"His stylist." She said the word like it was a curse. "Why would his stylist bring you a dress?"

"I do not know. You would have to ask him."

Her jaw tightened. The mask slipped, and I saw the real Livia underneath. The one who could not stand the thought of me being noticed by a man like him. Then the mask came back, smooth and cold.

"How kind of him to take pity on you," she said. "It must be difficult, finding things that fit."

"It was not difficult at all." I kept my voice calm. "It fits perfectly."

She smiled but the smile did not reach her eyes. "Enjoy the party, Elowen. These things never last."

She walked away. Her white gown swished against the marble as she walked. I watched her go. My heart was beating too fast, but my hands were steady. For the first time in weeks since encountering her, I wasnt shaken up like I used to.

I found a spot near the edge of the room. A quiet corner with a pillar to lean against. From here I could see the whole ballroom. The dancers. The talkers. The people who knew each other and the people who pretended to. I sipped my champagne and waited for the night to end.

Then I saw him... good lord...

He stood at the centre of the room, and everyone around him seemed smaller. His suit was black, sharp and fitted in a perfect way. His dark hair was pushed back. His silver eyes swept the room like he owned it, which he actually did own. Every glass of champagne, every flower arrangement, every person in, every expensive gown. It was all his.

Livia was at his side.

She had her hand on his arm. Her thin fingers curled around the sleeve of his jacket. She leaned close and whispered something in his ear that was supposed to be funny but he did not smile or react to her words. He just stood there, cold and still like a statue, letting her cling to him like a vine on a stone wall.

The photographers circled them. Cameras flashed. Livia tilted her head and smiled for the press. She looked like she belonged on his arm. She looked like the kind of woman a man like Eryx Voltaire should be with. Slim, well polished and perfect.

I looked away. My champagne was warm now. I set the glass on a passing tray.

When I looked back, Eryx was staring at me across the sea of thin, perfect bodies. Across the dance floor, the champagne towers and the photographers. His silver eyes were fixed on me like a beam of cold light. His face showed no emotion. No smile, no nod, no warmth or acknowledgement but he still did not look away.

I myself could not look away either.

The air between us felt tight, like it was only us in the room. Livia was still on his arm, talking, laughing, pressing close. He did not seem to hear her. He was looking at me the way he had looked at me in his office. The way he had looked at me earlier in the parking lot. Like I was something he had not decided what to do with yet.

Livia noticed. She followed his gaze across the room. When she saw me, her face went still and cold at the same time. Her hand tightened on his arm.

I turned away first. I could not stand the weight of both their stares. I walked to the bar and asked for water. My throat was dry. My hands were shaking again.

"Do not turn around," a voice said behind me. "He is still looking."

I knew that voice. Maya. She appeared beside me in a sleek black jumpsuit, a glass of red wine in her hand.

"Let him look," she said. "That is the point of the dress."

"I do not want him to look."

"Yes, you do. And he does too. So stop pretending." She sipped her wine. "Livia is furious, by the way. I could see her face from across the room. You have ruined her night. Well done."

"I did not mean to ruin anything."

"That is why it worked."

She walked away before I could answer. I stayed at the bar, my back to the room, my heart pounding in my chest.

The night dragged on and on. I moved from corner to corner, nursing a glass of water, counting the minutes until I could leave. Livia stayed close to Eryx all evening. Every time I looked, she was there. Touching his arm. Laughing at something he did not say. Making sure everyone in the room saw her with him.

But every time I looked, his eyes were somewhere else.

On me.

It was never long. A flicker. A glance. A beat of silver light across the room. But I felt it every time. My skin went hot. My stomach tightened. I told myself it was fear. I told myself I did not know what else it could be.

At ten o'clock, I decided to leave. I had done my part by staying that long. I had worn the dress. I had stood in the corner and smiled at the right moments. Now I could go home, hang up the green silk, and go back to my real life.

I set my glass down and turned toward the lift.

Livia was standing in front of me.

"Leaving so soon?" she asked. Her voice was light, but her eyes were hard. "The night is still young."

"I am tired," I said. "I think I will go home."

"But you have not even danced. Or talked to anyone. Or done anything except stand in that corner and stare at Mr. Voltaire like a lost puppy."

My face went hot. "I was not staring at anyone."

"No? Then what were you doing?"

I did not answer. I did not have an answer that would not make things worse.

Livia stepped closer. Her perfume wrapped around me, sweet and heavy. "He is only amused by you," she said. Her voice was quiet now, meant only for me. "A curiosity. Like seeing a pig in a silk gown. You know that, do you not?"

Something inside me snapped.

"Better a pig," I said, "than a snake with hollow skin."

The words were out before I could stop them. They hung in the air between us, loud and sharp. Livia's face went white. Then red. Then white again.

"What did you say to me?"

"You heard me."

Her hand moved. I thought she was going to slap me. But instead, she stumbled. Her heel caught the edge of my gown. Her glass tilted. A cascade of red wine splashed down the front of my dress.

The room gasped.

The green silk turned dark and wet. The wine dripped down my chest, my stomach, my thighs. It pooled on the white marble at my feet. I stood frozen, my hands out, my dress ruined.

Livia's voice rang out. "Oh no! Elowen, I am so sorry! How clumsy of you."

My hands were shaking. My eyes burned. I could hear the whispers starting. The same whispers from the engagement party. The same laughter, barely hidden behind champagne glasses.

I turned to run.

A hand closed around my wrist. Iron-firm and umbreakable.

Eryx.

His silver eyes met mine. His jaw was tight. The cold mask was gone. What was underneath was something I had never seen before. Something dark. Something furious. Something that made my heart stop.

"You are done here," he said.

And he pulled me toward the private elevator, his grip hard on my wrist, his shoulders cutting through the crowd like a blade through silk. The doors opened. He pulled me inside, the doors closed.

And the last thing I saw was Livia's face, white with rage, her eyes burning holes into the back of my ruined green dress.