Glided Gravity

Chapter 1

It’s common to command attention as a woman. But Scarlett Vale commanded gravity.

She was not beautiful in the perfect sense, in the magazine sense. Her lips were over generous, her nose a little crooked, and there was a slight scar running the length of her jaw. There was just something about her aura, an unseen attraction, an unspoken confidence, which caused men of Caliber to look once and never want to look away. She was not glittering; she was grounded. The world tilted over her, as though a force which she could not see had chosen that she was at its centre.

But the reality was more straightforward and barbaric. It wasn't a charm. It was a curse.

All the men attracted into her circle find luck. Their stocks grew, their names were in the headlines and their fortunes were multiplied. Then inexorably, when they saw too far, when they knew what she was, all their work came to dust.

They referred to her as “The Siren of Fortune”. The tabloids were her admirers: The wives of billionaires, her foes. Scarlett Vale, whose kisses made kings -and ruined them.

She hated the title. But wore it like a medal. That night the medal shined.

The Grand Hall of the Lyonnae Hotel sparkles in champagne light and muffled luxury. There were crystal chandeliers shining above seas of tuxedos and silk dresses. The air was faintly tinged with gardenia and old money. Waiters were floating past with silver trays, and everywhere she came were pauses of conversation too long a second.

Always that way, awe and then hunger.

A group of followers, opportunists, men who thought that being close to her was fate itself. In the middle of them stood billionaire hotelier - Eamon Harlowe, with his silver hair slicked perfectly, and his jaw made of success. He was her host.

“Scarlett Vale”, he said, his voice solemn, as though he were speaking of kings or wonders. You put me in mind of a wish somebody made a wish come true.

Her lips curved. "Careful, Eamon. You might start rumors." "Rumors?" He laughed and leaned in. You see, they say already that you are a fortune.

He grabbed her hand and she was aware of that familiar scratching under her skin. It was a warmth which was intangible yet vibrant, as in making contact with a thundercloud; it was not physical attraction. It was a curse to wake up again.

The flutter of the pulse in which she drew her hand back. She ignores the slight golden glimmer which always flashes through the eyes of a man when the spell is about to be put into force.

He blinked, dazed. "I-- forgive me. Would you perhaps join me for dinner next week?

She gently stepped back. You are very nice; however, I have a travel plan. He was disappointed, next to being puzzled-- as she herself had been a thousand times.

One would think of her at night, the week would reorganize his life and the year would make him believe that she was the lost part of his empire. And then he'd learn. They always did.

She turned her back before the compassion would root.

The mirror on the wall caught her reflection, and it was perfect yet unreal. You built this, she reminded herself - a woman sculpted by tragedy and headlines. And you have survived because of this.

But surviving can’t be compared to the feeling of living.

The ball orchestra changed to a slow and romantic sound. The champagne tinkled in the background. She was about to creep out without being detected when the ambiance of the hall changed.

It was not the sound which had warned her, it was the silence. That particular hush that precedes awe. Heads turned towards the entrance.

And then she saw him. He had no place and this was reflected in the ease with which he held himself. Nothing flaunty, nothing to show off. His excellent appearance - his black suit was simple but perfect, and his actions were accurate without rehearsing. His attraction was not magnetic, as hers was, but magnetic in the opposite sense of the word.

Gabriel Dray.

The word swept the multitude like a heretic. Billionaire. Innovator. Recluse.

Scarlett knew it immediately-- that old, secret flow that ever-sought prosperity, authority and male eroticism. The curse woke up, and it stretched out like a hunting animal.

But at the moment of their eye contact, nothing took place.

No shimmer. No pull. No gear buzzed behind her flesh, her strength, the strength which had never failed, the strength which was her being, confronted nothing.

Gabriel Dray was examining her as one examines some rare painting: with interest, though without absorption. Calculating, not captive.

He had come slowly and with a kind of measured calm, and when he talked his voice was low and textured, such as one can hear cutting through a room, without any increase in volume.

“Miss Vale."

She blinked. "Mr. Dray."

"You're hard to miss," he said.

That sounds like a compliment.

"It's an observation." His lips twisted nearly unnoticed as he spoke.

She turned her head, just like his coldness. "And what do you observe?

"That you render strong men unreasonable, " he said merely. I like to know the irrationality.

Her smile faltered. Do you always start off conversations with accusations?

Only when the evidence is consistent.

The fingers of Scarlett narrowed round the glass. "You've been reading tabloids?"

I read balance sheets, he answered, Three of your lovers I know had gotten off unfeasibly well in the market when you were together, and lost all the money nearly at once.

"Maybe I'm just bad luck."

“I do not believe in luck”, he said while examining her facial expression. "I believe in influence. And you, Miss Vale, are an interesting variable.

He reached into his pocket for his card and handed it over to her. The chandelier flashed on the matte surface.

Gabriel Dray - DrayCorp Foundation Strategic Influence & Human Behavior Initiative. You are asking me to be your... experiment? She asked, arching her brow.

I am asking you to narrate your side of the story. I prefer to get anomalies first hand.

She was poked more than she thought by the word anomaly.

With a delicacy that she could have sworn by, she slipped the card into her clutch. "I'll think about it.

" Do," he said, coolly but with a keen look. You would be glad to learn something you can make out.

Just as she was about to respond, his phone rang. He walked away, talking into it, his voice some inaudible low stream she could not make out, because he did not look back.

Scarlett stood by and saw him take his departure, and power was settled within her heart, where it had been. She could not feel him--as she felt everybody. Her mind was silent and she sat alone.

The ballroom was again set to time for her, and laughter, flattery, change of money in promises. Eamon Harlowe looked at her across the room, already with an infatuated expression.

But she was still thinking about the door where Gabriel had gone.

She was not frightened of being wanted, as she had always been before in years. She feared to be invisible.

The air was chilly outside the city, and the streets were paved with rain. The first camera shot was when she got into her car and shut the door behind her.

Gazing through the colored glass into the city as it blazed through the blurred window, she retrieved the card of Gabriel from her clutch, and followed her finger over the stamped name.

Gabriel Dray. The man who wasn’t moved by her gravity

Scarlett Vale smiled, for the first time in a long while, not the ideal practiced smile, but a genuine smile, sharp-edged and alive.

Gravity, she said to herself, perhaps did not drag him as he was the one who was making it.

She returned the card to her bag with a slight shiver running up her spine. Neither curiosity, nor danger, she knew not, but it was the first feeling which had not been prescribed by the curse. This made it priceless.