THE PRICE OF APPEARANCES
1511 Words
The invitation arrived in a thick black envelope sealed with gold wax.
Aveline held it in her hands while standing near the tall windows of her bedroom. Outside, the city stretched endlessly, glittering beneath the evening sky. Inside, everything felt suffocatingly quiet.
She did not need to ask who it was from.
Dante entered without knocking, as he always did. He wore a tailored charcoal suit, his expression unreadable.
“There is a gala tonight,” he said calmly. “You will attend with me.”
Aveline swallowed. “Why?”
“Because you are my wife.”
The words should have meant something comforting. Instead, they felt like ownership stamped across her skin.
She lowered her eyes. “What kind of gala?”
“Charity. Business. Politics. The usual mix of hypocrisy.”
His voice carried no emotion. He turned slightly, studying her as though assessing whether she was worth displaying.
“You will behave,” he continued. “You will speak when spoken to. You will not embarrass me.”
“I never try to embarrass you,” she replied quietly.
His gaze sharpened. “Trying is irrelevant. Your presence alone can be embarrassing if not managed properly.”
The words landed heavily in her chest. She nodded once.
“Yes.”
A team of stylists arrived within the hour. They treated her like a mannequin, adjusting her hair, applying makeup, slipping her into a deep red gown that clung to her figure in ways that made her uncomfortable. The fabric was expensive, delicate, and far beyond anything she had ever worn in her life.
When she finally stood before the mirror, she barely recognized herself.
The girl from the cramped apartment, the girl who wore faded dresses and patched shoes, was gone. In her place stood someone refined and polished.
Yet inside, she still felt small.
Dante returned as the stylists finished. His eyes moved over her slowly. Not with affection. Not with tenderness.
With approval.
“This will do,” he said.
That should not have made her heart beat faster, but it did.
The ride to the gala was silent. The car glided through the city like a shadow. Aveline watched the lights pass by, her hands folded tightly in her lap.
When they arrived, flashes from cameras exploded against the darkness.
Her breath caught.
She had never seen so many people dressed in wealth. Diamonds shimmered. Laughter echoed. Powerful men stood in small circles discussing numbers that likely equaled entire neighborhoods.
Dante stepped out first. Then he extended his hand.
She hesitated only a second before placing her hand in his.
The moment their skin touched, something shifted inside her chest. That strange, invisible connection tightened. It was not painful this time. It was warm. Steady.
He did not look at her, but his fingers tightened slightly around hers before releasing.
They entered together.
Whispers followed them immediately.
“That is his wife.”
“She looks younger than I expected.”
“Poor thing.”
Aveline kept her posture straight. She had learned that much. If she showed weakness, it would be devoured.
Dante moved effortlessly through the crowd, greeting men with firm handshakes and controlled smiles. Women approached him as well. Beautiful women. Confident women.
One of them lingered too long.
She was tall, elegant, dressed in silver that caught every light in the room. Her hand rested lightly on Dante’s arm as she laughed at something he said.
Aveline stood half a step behind him, invisible but not unaware.
The warmth in her chest twisted.
Dante did not remove the woman’s hand.
Instead, he introduced Aveline in a voice that carried authority.
“My wife.”
The woman’s eyes slid toward Aveline, assessing, calculating.
“How charming,” she said smoothly. “You must be adjusting to this world.”
“I am learning,” Aveline replied.
The woman smiled, though there was no kindness in it.
“I imagine it is quite a transition.”
Dante’s expression remained neutral. He did not defend her. He did not correct the tone.
The conversation shifted back to business. Aveline stood silently, feeling like a decoration.
Minutes passed. Then an hour.
The same pattern repeated. Women touching Dante’s arm. Leaning too close. Whispering in his ear.
He never stopped them.
The bond inside her chest began to pulse again. Not warm now. Not steady.
Sharp.
Her breathing grew uneven. She turned away slightly, needing space, but the crowd pressed in from every direction.
A man approached her while Dante was distracted.
“You look overwhelmed,” he said politely. “May I offer you a drink?”
She hesitated. Dante had not forbidden drinks.
“Yes. Thank you.”
The man handed her a glass and began speaking about art, about travel, about places she had never seen. His tone was respectful. Gentle.
For the first time that night, she felt like a person rather than a possession.
Across the room, Dante’s eyes found her.
They darkened instantly.
The bond inside her reacted violently.
Aveline’s hand trembled. The glass slipped slightly in her grip.
The man noticed. “Are you all right?”
Before she could answer, Dante was beside her.
“I believe my wife does not require assistance,” he said calmly.
The temperature around them dropped.
The man stepped back immediately. “Of course.”
Dante’s hand closed around Aveline’s wrist. Not painfully. Not yet.
“Excuse us.”
He led her away from the crowd into a quiet hallway lined with marble and soft lighting.
The moment they were alone, he released her.
“What were you doing?” he asked.
“Talking.”
“To him?”
“Yes.”
His jaw tightened. “You forget yourself.”
“I was standing alone,” she replied, her voice trembling despite her effort to steady it. “You were busy.”
His eyes flashed.
“Busy does not mean unavailable.”
The unfairness of that statement rose inside her before she could stop it.
“You allow women to touch you,” she said quietly. “To lean on you. To laugh in your ear.”
His expression turned cold.
“That is different.”
“How?”
He stepped closer. “Because I say so.”
Silence filled the space between them.
Her heart pounded painfully against her ribs. The bond pulsed again, sharp and heated.
“You are mine,” he said in a low voice. “You will not entertain other men.”
“I was not entertaining him.”
“You were smiling.”
The accusation stunned her.
“Am I not allowed to smile?”
He stared at her as though the question itself offended him.
“You are allowed to exist within the boundaries I set.”
The words should have crushed her completely. Instead, something small inside her resisted.
“I am not a piece of furniture,” she said softly.
His eyes narrowed.
“No,” he agreed. “You are my wife. Do not confuse the two.”
There was something possessive in the way he said it. Something that did not align with the cruelty.
The bond shifted again. Less sharp. More intense.
Footsteps echoed at the end of the hallway. Dante straightened.
“Fix your expression,” he instructed. “We are returning.”
She obeyed.
Back inside the ballroom, the music swelled. Applause erupted as someone took the stage to speak about charity and generosity.
Aveline stood beside Dante, her posture flawless.
But inside, she understood something new.
His cruelty was not indifference.
It was control.
And control meant he felt something.
When the event finally ended, the car ride home was silent again. This time, the silence was heavier.
As the city lights faded behind them, Dante spoke without looking at her.
“You will not speak to strange men again.”
She looked down at her hands.
“And you?” she asked before she could stop herself.
The car grew still.
“What about me?”
“Will you stop letting women touch you?”
The driver’s eyes flicked to the mirror before quickly looking away.
Dante turned his head slowly toward her.
“Be careful,” he said quietly.
It was not a threat shouted in anger.
It was a warning.
Yet beneath it, she sensed something else.
Jealousy.
The realization both frightened and strengthened her.
When they reached the mansion, he exited first. She followed.
At the top of the staircase, he paused.
Without turning around, he spoke.
“You represented me adequately tonight.”
It was the closest thing to praise he had ever given her.
Her chest tightened.
“Thank you,” she replied.
He walked away.
Aveline stood alone in the grand hallway, the echo of music still lingering in her mind.
Tonight had changed something.
She had seen the crack in his armor.
She had felt his jealousy.
And for the first time, she realized that the golden cage was not only imprisoning her.
It was imprisoning him too.
- Writer
