CHAPTER SEVENTEENBETWEEN MASKS AND GLANCES
1125 Words
The soft murmur of strings floated through the ballroom as guests danced and laughter rippled like bubbles in champagne glasses. Arielle, radiant beneath the flickering candlelight, stood out not just because of her gown but because of the graceful ease with which she carried herself. She was elegant, yes—but she was also a mystery.
From across the room, Damien saw it all.
And hated every second of it.
The CEO of VentraTech, Ezra Delacroix, had been at Arielle’s side for the past half hour, a man known for both his calm authority and his polished demeanor. Mid-thirties, magnetic in a very quiet way, Ezra radiated a composed charm that made people listen when he spoke—and watch when he moved.
Right now, his arm was gently guiding Arielle to the dance floor.
Damien’s jaw clenched.
Ezra leaned down to say something, and Arielle laughed softly, shaking her head as her fingers brushed against his sleeve. A soft waltz started, and they moved seamlessly into step, her black gown flowing like liquid shadow.
Damien’s eyes never left her.
“Who’s the mystery woman?” Elena asked beside him, her own champagne flute raised delicately.
Damien blinked, forcing himself to turn. “No one.”
Elena chuckled, tilting her head. “That ‘no one’ has stolen the glances of half this room... and the full attention of one Damien Locke.”
He didn’t answer, but his lips pressed into a thin line.
“She’s beautiful,” Elena added with a kind smile. “I heard someone say she wore the room tonight—and most of the women’s dates agreed.”
To that, Damien only murmured, “They’re not wrong.”
Elena glanced at him then, studying his profile with new curiosity, but said nothing more.
---
Across the room, at the employee table, Julianne narrowed her eyes at the sight of Arielle waltzing with yet another high-ranking executive.
“Unbelievable,” she hissed under her breath, lips curled. “There she goes again, charming another CEO we’re supposed to *work* with, not seduce.”
A junior colleague shifted uncomfortably beside her.
“She has no manners. Or any idea what professionalism looks like,” Julianne continued, voice low but sharp as a knife.
“She has more professionalism in her little finger than you have in your whole career,” Nina’s voice cut in behind her.
Julianne jumped slightly, her mouth parting in surprise. “Excuse me?”
“You heard me,” Nina said, arms crossed, eyes flashing. “You want to keep gossiping? Try it again. This time, I’ll make sure HR hears about it.”
Julianne scowled but didn’t reply.
Nina turned away without another glance, walking off toward the drink stand where Arielle stood alone now, sipping something golden and fizzy, a slight smile on her lips and her eyes far away.
“Your dress might be whispering, but girl, your impact’s been screaming,” Nina said, sliding beside her with a grin.
Arielle laughed softly. “What did she say now?”
She had seen the exchange between between Nina and Julianne, and though she didn't hear what they had spoken about, the body movement from Nina and the scowl from Julianne had said it all. The tension between them was glaring.
Arielle was sure that Nina had given her the very last piece of her mind.
“The usual,”Nina answered. “You’re charming everyone and threatening the ecosystem of insecure women everywhere.” Nina bumped her shoulder playfully. “I shut her up.”
Arielle sighed. “Julianne won’t change. No matter how many times you shut her up.”
“She better, or I’ll find new ways to get creative.”
Their laughter mixed easily, warm against the backdrop of orchestral notes and clinking glasses. A moment later, a tall man in a navy mask walked up to Nina with a smile and asked for a dance.
Nina turned to Arielle, eyebrow raised. “Permission to abandon?”
“Granted,” Arielle smiled. “Have fun.”
With a wink, Nina disappeared into the crowd.
---
Arielle stepped onto the balcony moments later, needing air—and space.
The city stretched beneath the ballroom’s grand terrace, lights twinkling like scattered stars. The wind carried with it the scent of spring and champagne, and Arielle leaned on the cool stone railing, letting the moment wash over her.
Behind her, a shadow appeared.
She didn’t turn.
“I saw you dancing,” Damien’s voice said softly.
Arielle turned then, surprised. “Mr. Locke. You startled me.”
“Damien,” he corrected, stepping into the moonlight beside her. “We're not in the office tonight.”
She looked at him, amused. “Didn’t know you danced.”
“I don’t. Not tonight.”
A pause.
“You looked... happy,” he said.
“I was,” she said truthfully. “Ezra is kind. Polite.”
“Of course he is,” Damien muttered, before catching himself. “I mean... he seems the type.”
She studied him for a long moment, something in her gaze measuring. “Jealousy doesn’t suit you.”
He looked away. “I’m not—”
“Don’t lie.”
Silence stretched.
The city hummed below. And still, somehow, it was too quiet between them.
“I saw you watching,” Arielle added, her voice low. “I felt it. The entire night.”
Damien met her eyes, mask and all. “And you let me.”
She said nothing, but her expression softened just slightly.
“I’m sorry,” he said then, and his voice—deep, low, unguarded—surprised even himself.
“For what?” she asked.
“For everything. For before. For not knowing how to—” He broke off. “Just. Sorry.”
Arielle stared at him, lips parted.
Behind them, the music rose again. A new song.
She stepped away from the railing and toward him.
“You didn’t ask me to dance,” she said quietly.
His breath caught.
“I didn’t think I had the right.”
“You didn’t.”
A beat.
“But maybe next time, you will.”
She smiled faintly, then walked past him, back into the ballroom, the black train of her gown flowing like a whisper.
Damien turned to watch her go, the weight of her words pressing against the steady beat of his heart.
And for the first time in a very long time, he didn’t feel cold.
He felt alive.
And now he knew if he didn't take this chance, he might never find it again.
And that was a chance he didn't want to take.
“Dance with me,” he said.
---
- Writer
