FIERCE, NOT FAITHFUL

The Velvet Cage Amara was in front of her vanity mirror, combing her thick and dark curly hair. Every action was done respectfully, step by step, acting as a symbol of demonstration. Carla’s hair covered her back and ran into her anxious gaze, shining brightly because of the chandelier hanging above. Julian´s favorite color was blood-red, and he loved that it matched the way her lips looked. As mentioned, it suited the silk slip that barely covered her body — a dress built to please, to catch attention, and to perform for the viewers. Yet tonight, his team did not manage to bring him a championship. Behind her, the shining city lights came through the high windows and add shadows to her tanned skin. Manhattan was lit with twinkling brilliance and offered people free from lies and years of bondage. The image she had in the mirror was captivating. Not because of her appearance, but because she didn’t recognize who she saw turning to be. Eyes that once looked listless with sadness had a dangerous glimmer in them. A plan. A choice. The burning passion inside a woman with nothing left and everything waiting for her. That night, people gathered at The Orlov Museum of Art for a fundraiser, which was an exclusive event for Julian’s foundation filled with champagne, camera lights, and scents from the best perfumes. Naturally, giving to charity was only a cover story. A cover-up for someone’s social status and power in society. An ideal display of sophistication and riches. And Amara? She was the main point of attention. She perfectly represented a refined wife in the movie. Perfect smile. Perfect dress. Perfect lie. Even so, the tension was slowly shredding her life. He had no clue about what was going on. She collected the diamond earrings her husband gifted her two years back during their trip to Paris — a way of making up for being busy on her birthday. She felt the stormy anger inside her as he secured the gems into her ears. She brought them out tonight, not to act as a sign of forgiveness, but as her final insult to the two of them. The heels she wore matched the color of her lips. Her every step was slow and deliberate; with every heel click, it sounded like ticking on the marble. The car had arrived at the entrance and was already ready. Julian would arrive early because he always wanted to take special care of Amara as she walked into the room. The attendant's hand brushed the bag sitting on the counter, and inside hid a burner phone, wrapped with a tissue paper under a small compact. Amara quickly removed the burner phone and went through it. There was only a single line that appeared on the screen. Want to keep trying to escape? I will be able to get you out of here tonight. Once, her heart gave a huge and tireless pound. Still, the memory of Caius’ crooked look and tranquil attitude kept dragging her in. She put the phone back in the pocket of her clutch. The museum’s exterior was made of glass and steel, and when the sun went down, it looked like a shining jewel. The atmosphere inside was full of rich feelings and high expectations. Waiters seemed to float quickly around the room with champagne and caviar on their trays. The rich and famous acted at ease, while their laughter sounded forced and used too often. Julian was standing by the main fountain, sipping scotch with one hand and touching the waist of the senator’s daughter with the other. Everything was just for the cameras. Amara went into the atrium, and every person in the room looked at her. Her beauty was outstanding. Everyone quieted down as only the echo of her footsteps and the sound of distant piano could be heard. Julian’s arm no longer remained around the girl’s waist. He smiled a perfect, practice-made smile before going toward her. “Amara,” he said as he gave her a kiss on the cheek. “You look…” “Like your most important thing?” she then murmured, her smile not really touching her eyes. Julian laughed at the comment and didn’t notice the insult. "As always, you're beautiful!" They walked gracefully across the room like members of a royal family. Soon, the guests began admiring her manner, choices, and elegance. Amara answered by nodding, giving a warm smile, and appearing just alive enough. Inside, she nearly felt like a mechanism carrying out each action on time. She was able to find Caius while looking around the party. He should never have been born. But there he was leaning against a marble column, close to an exhibit of abstract oil paintings. He wore a dark suit that made him look cool, and his tie was only slightly loosened to show a sense of rebellion in him. Their gaze locked Briefly, and she found it hard to take a breath. He barely lifted his glass, watching her all the time. He brought her in closer to him. He softly said, “That’s Caius Sterling.” Spending time at half of the city’s nightclubs isn’t unusual for him. Dangerous money.” “Mmm,” replied Amara. Isn’t every kind of money carrying the potential danger? He did not respond to the question. Even before finishing his speech, he began to pay attention to a tech CEO’s wife. While the speech about donations to education was made, Amara somehow vanished. She located Caius in the area of the sculpture wing. She soft-spoke, breathless, “This is not a place you should be,” as he stood there. "You should avoid doing that as well." he teased He gave her a glass of wine. They touched each other with their fingers. Things between them suddenly felt different and shifted. "Did you receive my message.” He said sheepishly Are you planning to do it tonight? " Possibly," she said." I simply came hoping to see you. " There was a bitter sound in her laughter “ I’m not afraid.“ “You’re terrified. However, I find that to be a great thing about you." He said leaning towards her, his eyes at her revealing cleavage.