Ch 3: Encounter with the Devil

Recap:

Her father's eyebrows drew together. "Yes, you do. In fact, there is someone I would like you to meet..."

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Despite all intentions to the contrary, Cecilia found herself having to re-enter the ballroom for the second time that night. Her gaze fell upon the cream and blue decor that she had chosen, giving the exact effect that Cess had desired. She smiled to herself, remembering what her father had told her about her mother's favourite flower. Albino bluebells were incredibly rare and precious, just like her mother had been, so it seemed only fair that the theme tonight were a reflection of them. It had taken her most of the past fortnight to organise the charity ball, but it had been worth every second of it to see the look on her father's face when he first walked into the ballroom an hour ago: as if she had fulfilled his every heart's desire, as if she had given him the most precious gift. Yes, for that look alone, she would gladly toil an entire month.

She sighed as she caught a reflection of herself in the mirror as they walked past. Her strapless peach-coloured floor-length dress was now creased. The hair that she had laboriously worked into a chignon a few hours previously, had managed to fall out to frame her face in curls. Her face was flushed and eyes tired from all the preparation that day and then the ensuing drama with those men... Cess tensed, as she realised that she was about to walk into the lion's den, once again - all curtsey of her brother.

Cess threw him a narrow-eyed glance, observing his carefree profile. Her brother was indeed a fine man to look at, standing just above 6 foot in his black tuxedo and red tie, his pearl grey eyes an exact replica of their mother's. As a child, Cecilia had often been jealous that her brother had inherited her eyes, since Cess had always wanted to look like her. But then she realised that she already had something of their mother's: her copper curls. The knowledge, that her hair was something she had of her mother, made being the only red-head in an entirely golden-headed family somewhat more tolerable. Her brother, on the other hand, had inherited the best of both worlds, with a permanently tousled golden mane and slumberous grey eyes that had women flocking to him. Cecilia bristled as she recalled what he had told the men to placate them... 'she will talk to you later.' Ha! That was not placating! That was simply delaying the inevitable. Her eyes seared her brother just as he turned to look at her, making him raise a brow in surprised unease when he saw the venomous look she was sending his way.

'Yes, that's right.' She thought. 'Be afraid, very very afraid. Because when I get my hands on you...'  she let her thoughts trail off into the many vile and violent things she would do to her brother when she got him in private.

"Here we are!" Her father's voice cut her aggressive thoughts short. Cecilia hadn't even realised that she had been deftly steered across the ballroom by her father, towards a group of chatting men she had never met before in her life.

As they approached, she turned her attention to them. She immediately noted that most of the men were middle aged, close to her father's age. All, except one...

Suddenly, Cecilia's heart gave a loud thump as it jumped and swooned, and she had the strangest sense of careening into free space. Dimly aware of her fast, erratic breath, she leaned heavily into her father as lights danced across her eyes, all blurring into one another, except... All she could see, all she could think were of those glacial sapphire blue eyes locked on hers across the 2 foot of space between them, as a fine trembling broke across her skin. Electricity, the likes of which she had never encoutered before, arced between that space, leaving Cecilia a gasping mess.

"Cecilia?" She barely registered her father's concerned voice. "Honey, are you ok? You've gone so pale; you're worrying me!"

Upon hearing the rising tension in her father's voice, Cecilia finally managed to pull herself out of the mesmerised stupor she had fallen into. "Papa, I'm fine, I promise. I just got a little dizzy..." she peeked up at the cause, only to find them still locked on her, giving her another whoosh of disorientation. She looked away quickly, vowing not to look that way again, until she got her equilibrium back. She couldn't understand what was wrong with her! She had seen plenty of blue eyes in her life time, so why should these be any different?...

Gathering her confidence, she turned towards the crowd of men staring curiously at her, studiously avoiding the pentrating gaze of the dark haired man stood to her right. "Good evening, gentlemen. I hope you are all enjoying yourselves?"

The men hastened their agreement, quickly coming to the conclusion that the green-eyed beauty was the one and only; the daughter of the wealthy diamond magnate, Roger Knight, of whom he was often known to boast, and whom, it was generally agreed, he loved more than all his worldly possessions combined.

Roger, still worried about his daughter's health, discreetly whispered, "Darling, are you sure you want to mingle? You must be exhausted after all this running around you've been doing. Don't you want to sit down?"

"No, Papa!" She laughed to put him at ease, as the surrounding men resumed their prior discussion. "I'm absolutely fine. It was just momentary, but it has absolutely passed." She replied firmly, not sure who she was more adamant about convincing: her father, or herself...

Once again, her father interrupted her inner musings. "Well, if you're sure then..."

"Oh, I am! Now, tell me: who was it you wanted me to meet?"

"Ah yes!" Her father's entire countenance lightened. "Come, Cessy, I want to intoduce you to Mr. Nicolas Freire..."

Cecilia's entire world gave way, as she realised who her father was leading her towards. Ice cold blue eyes fringed with long soot-like lashes burned into hers, causing a hectic flush to appear on her otherwise porcelain skin.

Cecilia jumped, eyes wide as large tanned, calloused hands engulfed her own petite ones, heart pounding, mouth dry. "Cess-ee-liaa," he drawled, in a foreign accent it was difficult to place. His accent would have been immaculate but for the slight drawl and rolling of the tongue, the warmth to his l's and s's, and the way he stretched out her name at the end... Although difficult to detect, the accent was there, and it somehow seemed to transport her momentarily back into the sunnier climes of Rome...

Cecilia immediately lost all ability to think as he slowly brought her hand up to his mouth, glacial gaze locked on her the entire time. Just as he brushed his mouth softly over her knuckles, a keen shiver rippled over her frame. His curling mouth told her he had noticed, and for some reason, she instinctively knew that not much escaped this man's notice.

"Nicolas," she replied in a shaky voice she feared was nothing like the calm, confident sophisticate she had wanted to project. Drawing her shoulders, she tried again. "Nice to meet you, Mr Freire."

"I'll just leave you to it, then," her father called out, as he hastily backed away, giving his daughter no chance to ask why he'd wanted them to be introduced in the first place.

An awkward, tension-filled silence fell. For the first time in her life, Cecilia found herself feeling tongue-tied in a social situation. She hesitantly gazed up at him, uncertain what to say, and was surprised at how far up she had to crane her neck. She was no elf, at a respectable 5ft 5", but this man towered above her in a black tuxedo that outlined his muscular frame... why, he could even put her father to shame, who was no mean size at 6ft 3". Cess found herself staring helplessly at the sharp jawlines and cheek bones, a dusting of stubble completing the look. He was sensuality incarnate, he was a god, he was...

"I see your father doesn't know about your promiscuous nature."

...An arsehole.

A pause full of shocked silence. And then:

"Excuse me?!!" Cecilia burst out, unable to hide her amazement at his audacity. "My WHAT?!"

"Your promiscuous nature. And along with that, I see you have a shrewish temper," he observed coldly, voice somehow more frozen than his eyes.

Cecilia was once again left speechless for words. "How dare you!" She gasped. She couldn't believe what she was hearing.

"Oh, I dare." He countered immediately. "Your father has become a close friend and ally to me, and I owe it to my friends to look out for them when their family is making a fool out of them. Your cheap behaviour reflects on your father, but I don't suppose you ever considered that, as you went about your flirtations. Next time, perhaps you may consider a little discretion as you surround your harem around you." He finished, spearing her with one final cold glance, before turning and walking back to join the crowd of men her father had separated him from.

Cecilia was left standing alone in the middle of the ballroom, incandescent with rage, quivering with helpless fury as she gasped her outrage. 'HOW DARE HE?!!' she thought, boiling over with anger. 'JUST WHO DOES HE THINK HE IS??? PROMISCIOUS? CHEAP? I'LL SHOW HIM PROMISCIOUS AND CHEAP!!!' she raged murderously. She couldn't believe that she had allowed herself to be insulted like that. She'd thought it was just anger that held her motionless, but if she were honest with herself, there was a tiny sliver of hurt curling itself around her heart. But, no - why on earth should she be hurt if some random, holier-than-thou arsehole came up and spouted some rubbish at her? Why should she care for his opinion? It must be because of her father, she decided. Because he implied that her father would be ashamed of her... Her heart tightened painfully at the thought of that ever happening. Yes, she thought, that must be it.

And as for that self-righteous twat, she had a few choice things she would like to say to him...

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AN: Hey! Hope you enjoyed the chapter! Whew, that was a long one to write. Please send me comments to let me know what you think! :)

P.s. the pic shows the style of dress that I imagine Cess to be wearing (although I imagine the colour to be slightly lighter than the image shows).