Loving The Flame

Chapter Three

Alora is wearing a brown nightgown, her face filled with fear as she rushes out of a room and races down a corridor. The intensity of her fear is evident on her face, as if she is being pursued, yet there is no one in pursuit. She quickly descends, gazes intently, and casts a lingering glance behind her as she continues to flee from the imposing mansion.

With a burst of energy, she flings open the door and darts out of the house. However, her momentum is abruptly halted as she collides with an unexpected obstacle. As she regains her composure, she lifts her gaze to meet the eyes of the person who now has a firm grip on her arms.

***

How thrilling is it when every action you take becomes a daring challenge that you intend to come out victorious in? I never imagined myself as the kind of woman who would go to such lengths in search of greatness. Yet, here I am, at an event, taking charge in ways I never have before.

I am modelling for a brand collection event that is similar to an auction for clothing. Half of the proceeds from the event will be donated to an orphanage. This is a significant occasion, and I wasn't initially scheduled to participate, but I was added at the eleventh hour. Fortunately, following the interview the previous day, I immediately sought solace in Fiona's company, where I vented my frustrations and shared the distress caused by that unpleasant family. She called me in the morning just to let me know that she had successfully put me in the spotlight. For tonight's performance, I just need to stay true to myself and give my absolute best once more.

I found it peculiar that she felt the need to emphasise the importance of dressing to impress, specifically without any glitter. She emphasised the importance of staying around after the show and using less make-up. I couldn't quite grasp her motive, but I arrived wearing a stunning dark green bodycon dress paired with sleek black stilettos that perfectly matched my handbag. My hair flowed down my back in a luxurious silk weave, and I was already present, ready to witness an extraordinary spectacle.

Here I am, now. On the stage, I stride confidently in a flowing pink chiffon gown adorned with exquisite jewels, its weight gracefully resting on my neck. All the effort Fiona told me to put in, I only understand when I realise a familiar voice biding fifty grand for the dress and I feel my heart almost leaping out of my rib cage. I simply stand still, seeing Mr. Anderson among the biding crowed, all in black like a daring devil. As the realisation dawned on those in attendance that he was placing the highest bid of the evening, their curiosity piqued, and a smile graced his face.

I can sense the direction this is heading, but I find myself yearning for something greater from this evening, as I am fully present and eager for what it holds. I can hear the bidder attempting to finalise the bid for another lady, like a distant reverberation, while my focus remains on Mr. Anderson, who gazes at me with a touch of astonishment.

"Going once, twice."

"Hundred!" he suddenly projects his voice, captivating the crowd and earning applause for the daring declaration.

"Hundred," the bidder echoes firmly. "Do I have a hundred and one?" he inquires, yet no one stirs. "Going once, twice." He takes his time, and the crowd erupts with laughter. “Sold!” He slams the podium, causing me to jump slightly. I quickly look away, holding my breath and clearing my throat. Amidst the thunderous applause, Keven, the talented dress designer, gracefully emerges, extending a warm invitation for Mr. Anderson to join us on the stage.

“You did fantastic, love,” Keven whispers as he kisses me, and I simply smile as my lips tremble with nerves. As Mr. Anderson gracefully steps onto the stage, his presence exudes a sense of tranquilly and self-assurance. There's a certain air of mystery in his smile, one that only becomes apparent when it reaches his eyes.

“Congratulations,” I say to him as he stands by me, and he responds with a subtle smile.

"You are always recognised for your compassion, and compassion knows no bounds," Keven says to him through the mic that he holds with his right hand, amplifying his vibrant voice. "The Andersons have been involved in similar events before, and tonight you have once again impressed us with your generous offer." I find myself grinning from ear to ear, torn between embracing the joy and the simultaneous wave of unease that washes over me while standing between them—or perhaps it's because he is standing closer to me.

“Certainly, I want to express my gratitude to our exceptional model and models for their outstanding collaboration,” he remarks, and I can't help but smile and applaud for Keven. "With that being said, I'd like to offer Mr. Anderson the opportunity to speak," he suggests, extending the microphone. I accept it and pass it over to him on my left.

Oh my goodness, I wonder, feeling a lump in my throat. I don't know if it is deliberate or coincidental, but as I pass him the mic, he unexpectedly takes hold of it along with my hand. This unexpected gesture catches me off guard, causing me to instinctively meet his gaze. I'm overwhelmed with surprise; my throat tightens as I try to compose myself, and my face turns bright red, feeling the heat in my cheeks. Or am I overanalyzing? I smile and nod enthusiastically while discreetly pulling my hand back towards myself and swallowing the lamp in my throat.

"Thank you," he says promptly, while his right arm effortlessly wraps around my waist, proudly displaying me—or rather, the dress—to the onlookers. “Naturally, you won't find me caught dead in this stunning dress,” he remarks, eliciting laughter from the crowd. "Um, you have a remarkable talent for capturing peace in the smallest of details. I must admit, I truly appreciate the dedication you show in connecting your work to positive actions. I am delighted to be present this evening, and I have absolutely no regrets about pursuing a state of great tranquilly," he declares, and I join in the applause along with everyone else. “And of course, I want to express my gratitude to this stunning model for beautifully presenting the dress,” he compliments me, gazing into my eyes. This word definitely contributes to my success as a model.

"Thank you," I whisper, and he gives me a suspicious look, narrowing his eyes while pressing his hand on my waist, stating his presence by me. Fortunately, the protocol dictates that after the bid and a speech, I must gracefully strut forward, pause, return to them for more pictures, and then make my way back to the backstage area to hand over the dress to the one who won it.

So, I left just in time before I overwhelmed myself, overanalyzed things in my mind, and made a terrible mistake. As I make my way to the backstage. To add fuel to the fire I start in my mind, while I walk past him to the back stage, I happen to catch a glimpse of him, biting his lip ever so slightly, as he discreetly checks me out.

Everyone congratulates me on my success and greets me warmly backstage. The other women are hurrying to go on stage and eagerly vying for their own dresses to make a bold statement, just like mine did. As groups of dressers hurry up to help me remove the dress, I am overjoyed with the way I am being treated. Remembering Fiona's advice, I opt for a natural look, foregoing makeup and styling my hair in a casual bun. This way, my open-back dress can highlight my figure. Meanwhile, the performance has ended, and the models and backstage crew are glancing my way. Some gaze at me with admiration or fascination, acknowledging my presence, while others seem indifferent.

"Darling," Keven says, embracing me from behind, and a smile spreads across my face. “You were absolutely incredible tonight,” he exclaims, gently keeping me at a distance while gazing into my eyes.

"Wow, that was truly incredible." I share his enthusiasm. Although I miss Judge Keven as a serious individual, I observe that several models are kissing and patting him as they walk right past us. And he has been nothing but friendly towards every model in the building.

"I'm going to give Fiona a heartfelt call to express my gratitude," he says, bringing a smile to my face. "You, darling, can't miss out on the cocktail party happening soon. Stick around! And sweetheart, you're sure to encounter countless wonderful individuals out there," he remarks, and that was just one of the things Fiona shared with me, but I am pleasantly surprised and grinning from ear to ear that I am officially invited.

"You know what?" I say this with a gasp escaping my lips. "I believe I can stay." I affirm my agreement as I speak. I really don't want to come across as knowledgeable about it.

"Let's take a stroll," he suggests, leading me to the backstage area where his affluent guests await, adorned in opulent attire for the occasion.

When he receives a round of applause, I step back and let him savour the moment on his own. He draws me nearer to him, giving me one final acknowledgment, and I express my gratitude. Tonight marks a pivotal moment in my journey, as I find myself basking in the glow of the spotlight and revelling in the long-awaited recognition I've yearned for.

The night is truly going well, and I feel a sense of significance as I am given attention. I encountered numerous individuals and received numerous compliments about my appearance and smile. As a model, it is expected to receive attention, but this particular evening seemed to shower me with an extraordinary amount of admiration. Naturally, it is closely tied to Mr. Anderson's official complement.

I'm feeling a bit fatigued and craving some fresh air, so I leisurely make my way out to the balcony. There's nothing quite like the refreshing touch of a cool breeze on my skin when I need it most. I gaze up at the night sky and take a deep breath, savouring the moment with my eyes closed. There's something about the city air that I find strangely invigorating, even though it's not typically considered refreshing.

“I hope you’re not a stalker." Mr. Anderson's voice brings me back to reality, and I can't help but frown as I glance down at him, leaning against the balcony railing. He holds a glass of alcohol in his right hand, nearly finished.

"I could say the same about you," I reply, moving closer to the rail of the balcony and resting my forearms on it. "Thank you," I say softly after a brief pause.

"I don't intend to assist. I said what I know to be true," he said casually, moving closer to me and narrowing the gap between us. "I want to be clear on something this one time," he stated, and I turned to face him, feeling a bit perplexed by the gravity of his tone. “I prefer to keep my models exclusively in my sight,” he remarks, causing me to smile in astonishment.

“Oh, now I am your model,” I remarked, meeting his gaze.

"You are one of the top four," he reminds me, and I nod with a solemn expression.

"And you believe that would have any significance in controlling me?" I inquire, and he furrows his brow, studying me with a puzzled expression. "I don't know if you remember, but I've mentioned this before, and I'll say it again: I need to earn a living." I pivot on my heels, preparing to retreat indoors, when he unexpectedly seizes my arm and spins me back towards him, drawing me into an intimate embrace. In that fleeting instant, it's as if the entire world holds its breath.

He utters my name, "Miss Williams." He appears quite attractive up close, and his scent is incredibly luxurious. I find myself struggling to catch my breath, my lips trembling with uncertainty. The words elude me, leaving me at a loss for how to express myself or the intense twist in my belly. "I..." He paused, studying me intently, before swiftly altering his choice of words right before my eyes. It's clear that whatever he is about to say is filtered. "I'll ensure you never repeat this," he declares, leaning to his side and inching closer to me. Close enough that I can feel his breath on my skin and can't feel his skin flaws one after the other.

I quickly pull my arm back and hurry back into the hall, where the party is still in full swing. There seems to be an issue with me; all I can hear is the sound of my breath in my ears, even as I navigate through the bustling crowds who are revelling in the night. I sense a certain obstruction in my throat that is impeding my ability to breathe, and I am finding it difficult to take in a breath of air. I can still sense the lingering touch of his hand on my arm and waist from earlier. I yearn to break free, as if my very existence depends on it. The weight of my desires weighs me down, hindering my escape.

"Alora, stop!" I hear him call out my name with such urgency, jolting me out of my daze as I try to make sense of my current surroundings. Unaware of everything around me, I found myself outside the hall, hastily making my way out of the building. It was then that I suddenly became aware of my precarious position in the middle of the road. "Alora!" he called out to me, his voice filled with urgency. I quickly scanned my surroundings and saw him rushing towards me, his eyes filled with fear and his arm outstretched.

Out of nowhere, a car honks loudly, jolting my attention to the left. I witness a car skillfully manoeuvring to avoid colliding with me, but it's evident that the driver had no choice but to make a sudden swerve. The situation seems destined to end in a minor collision, regardless. Fortunately, I find myself in the unexpected arms of Mr. Anderson, who swiftly swoops in to protect me, quickly pushing me aside as we both hit the ground with a thud.

I sense the impact of my head against the ground as he rests upon me, and the sensation of discomfort gradually diminishes as my head becomes heavy or vacant.

"Are you alright?" He pulls me gently while expressing his concern.

"I feel," I whisper, my voice barely audible and drained of all energy. "Nothing?" I believe I am inquiring, although I am uncertain if that is my true intention.

"Come on, keep your eyes open," he urges, and I reluctantly comply, slowly opening my eyes. Despite the apparent movement and being lifted, I am hardly feeling any sensations. I feel like I'm stuck in a completely unproductive shell.

"My hero," I whisper, silently acknowledging the significance of that word without uttering it aloud. I found myself embracing the darkness I couldn't break free from.

***

I cautiously opened my eyes and then promptly shut them once more. I'm experiencing a throbbing sensation in my head while simultaneously finding solace in the place where I rest. The fabric is unmistakably silk, evident from its luxurious texture that caresses my skin as I rest my head on the pillow. Wait, I ponder as a thought enters my mind.

Where was I? I found myself wide awake, my eyes snapping open in an instant. This place is unfamiliar to me. I'm completely lost. I sit up, and a wave of pain washes over my head, prompting me to gently massage it with my right hand. Unless there is a significant turn of events, I cannot envision myself waking up to a life of luxury that I am unfamiliar with.

A room that exudes elegance with its intricate and classic designs is where I find myself, wrapped in the plush embrace of a king-size bed. If I had a clear sense of my surroundings, I would take a moment to appreciate the sights, but instead, I find myself feeling disoriented and taken aback. I reluctantly rise from my bed and make my way towards the door, ready to embark on a new adventure.

The corridor stretches out before me, vast and expansive, while the house itself exudes an eerie emptiness that chills the air with its profound silence. I glance down at my attire and notice that I'm now wearing a nightgown. A stunning brown silk dress with a daring slit adds a touch of allure. I gulp nervously as I scan the room, desperately searching for my dress.

Speaking of my dress, the thought of it fills my mind with a flood of memories that leave me feeling deeply disappointed. I am at his place. That seems to be the most logical conclusion, and I'm eager to depart at the earliest opportunity. I cautiously push the door ajar and step into the empty corridor, finding myself in solitude once again. I look to my left and realise that it’s a dead end for me to race in that direction. I cautiously begin to move to the right, when suddenly I hear a loud thud from behind.

I didn't bother to turn around; all I could hear was the thunderous sound of someone rapidly approaching me from behind. In a moment of surprise, my instincts guide me towards a certain action, and I instinctively follow their lead. I run at full speed.

I glance over my shoulder, only to find emptiness, which only heightens my sense of dread. I know what I heard, and there's no way I'm going to be convinced that this place is empty and that there's no one chasing me. I increased the velocity of my race. All I can think of is that I'm the only one who can find a way out of this situation because negative thoughts are taking over my mind. I sprint down the stairs, in a hurry to reach the main door, and eagerly launch myself out of the house. Glancing over my shoulder once more, I ensure that there's no one behind me. Unexpectedly, I come to an abrupt stop as I collide with a person in my path.

My heart momentarily ceased its rhythm as I pondered how the pursuer had managed to outsmart me. I gaze at a pristine shirt, and I encounter a person who seems genuinely worried about me.

"Take a deep breath. Are you alright?" Mr. Anderson inquires, and I suddenly feel a bit dizzy.

"You," I muttered under my breath, but my energy drained away, and I found myself once again enveloped in his comforting embrace.