Chapter 7: The Engagement Party

The three days pass in a blur of avoidance and dread.

I stay in my room as much as possible, claiming headaches, exhaustion, anything to avoid Mother’s scrutinizing gaze or Feifei’s concerned questions. The watch sits in my desk drawer, hidden under papers I can’t bring myself to throw away. I don’t wear it, I can’t, but I can’t get rid of it either.

Every time I close my eyes, I see those cold gray eyes, every time I try to sleep, I feel phantom hands on my skin.

Three days until the engagement party.

Two days.

One day.

And then it’s here.

***

The Grand Lotus Hotel ballroom is exactly as expensive and suffocating as I imagined.

Crystal chandeliers, silk drapes, tables set with fine china and elaborate floral arrangements. Waiters circulate with champagne and hors d’oeuvres, soft classical music plays while well-dressed people mingle, their laughter polite and measured.

I stand near the back, wearing the suit Feifei picked out for me (navy blue, perfectly tailored, probably cost more than Original Runze’s monthly allowance), and try to become invisible.

It’s not working.

"Runze!" Mother appears at my elbow, her smile brittle and bright. "Stand up straight, and for god’s sake, smile. You look like you’re at a funeral."

I might as well be.

"Yes, Mother."

She gives me one more warning look before gliding away to greet some business associate.

I grab a champagne flute from a passing waiter and take a long drink.

The ballroom is divided roughly into territories. The Li family on one side Mother networking aggressively, Father making stiff conversation with potential investors, various aunts and uncles I barely remember, the Wuchen family on the other, and there are fewer of them, but they command more space somehow, more presence.

Bael’s grandmother sits in a chair near the center like a queen holding court, she’s elegant, regal, probably in her seventies but sharp as a blade. People approach her with deference, and she evaluates them with cool assessment.

I avoid that entire side of the room.

And then there’s Bael.

He’s in the center of it all, of course. Wearing a perfectly tailored black suit, his hair styled back, looking every inch the powerful CEO and devoted fiance. He stands with Feifei, his hand resting lightly on the small of her back, smiling at something she’s saying.

My sister looks beautiful, happy, she’s wearing a champagne-colored gown that makes her glow, her hair swept up elegantly, diamond earrings (probably a gift from the Wuchen family) catching the light.

They look perfect together.

The perfect couple.

I take another drink.

A waiter passes and I swap my empty glass for a full one without thinking.

Bael hasn’t looked at me once since I arrived. Not once. He’s the picture of attentive devotion to his fiance, laughing at her jokes, introducing her to business partners, his hand never leaving her waist.

Like I don’t exist.

Like three nights ago didn’t happen.

Like he didn’t knot me in a hotel room and then threaten to destroy my family if I said a word.

I drink.

Another waiter, another glass.

The room is getting warmer, the music is too loud, too many people, too many voices, too much perfume and cologne mixing in the air.

I watch Bael lean down to whisper something in Feifei’s ear. She laughs, touching his arm.

My stomach twists.

He’s a cheater, a liar, and no one knows but me.

Does he do this often? Pick up random omegas at bars? Or was I special? A last hurrah before tying himself to my sister for business reasons?

The champagne tastes bitter.

I should eat something.. when did I last eat?

Another glass appears in my hand, how did that happen?

Across the room, Bael’s grandmother stands to make a speech. Everyone quiets, turns to listen, she talks about family, tradition, the joining of two great houses (the Li family is barely holding on, but she’s diplomatic enough not to mention that). She talks about her grandson’s character, his father’s legacy, and the bright future ahead.

Feifei is beaming.

Bael is the picture of filial respect.

I drain my glass.

My father gives a speech next. Shorter, more awkward, talking about partnership and mutual benefit in terms that make it sound more like a merger than a marriage. Which it is. Everyone knows it, but we’re all pretending otherwise.

Applause, more champagne, the music starts again.

I need air.

Or a bathroom.

Or to be literally anywhere else.

I set my glass down, or try to, I miss the table slightly, it teeters but doesn’t fall, and make my way toward the back of the ballroom. There’s a hallway leading to the restrooms, quiet and empty.

Perfect.

I push through the door into the men’s room. It’s as elegant as the rest of the hotel, all marble and gold fixtures and soft lighting. Empty, thank god.

I brace my hands on the counter and stare at myself in the mirror.

I look wrecked, flushed, eyes too bright, the room is spinning slightly.

How much did I drink?

The door opens behind me.

I don’t turn around. Probably another guest, someone I’ll have to make polite small talk with, pretend I’m fine, pretend everything is fine.

Then I smell it.

Cedar and something darker, Alpha pheromones.

My body recognizes him before my brain catches up.

"What the hell do you think you’re doing?"