- VERONICA -

I'm wearing red. The kind of red that stings your eyes and screams, 'look at me.' The dress is made of what seems like a hundred yards of silk. It wraps loosely on my body as if it's ready to fall off any second. The halter top design exposes my entire back down to the waist, matching where the deep, plunging neckline ends on the front. My hair is down, set into perfect curls and my lips have been painted red.

There's no man alive that wouldn't notice me in this dress, I think as I turn around in front of the mirror, playing with my luxurious silk skirt like Cinderella who's just been transformed by the Fairy Godmother. It's the first time I get to wear such an extravagant gown, and I suppose there's still that girl in me who wants to be a princess or the center of attention at a ball at least once. The dress is gorgeous and alluring enough for the red carpet, and while I'm not pretty enough to turn heads without a lot of effort, I'm not exactly a pain to look at. Whatever deficiencies I have, this damn dress has just fixed or covered all of it.

I have Chris to thank for this, of course, even though he's not here for some reason no one will tell me. I have a feeling it's something bad, judging from the look on Rae's face when she received the call from Lucien yesterday. The conversation was short, and it seemed asking questions was off-limits for even Rae. I wonder if Remus knows anything about it. Considering who he is, he should, except that my hunch says Lucien doesn't tell him everything especially issues that don't require his attention.

"You look great, girl." Rae nods approvingly as she looks up and down my dress, but I can tell something had been bothering her since that phone call. Her smile is rigid, and her jawline seems a little tight. "Let's go." She gestures for me to follow and opens the door to the living room. "He's already here waiting for you."

He means Remus Valentin, of course. I knew he's arrived a while ago while I was still getting dressed. There have been people talking outside my door for some time now. Three men and one woman, from what I could hear. I haven't seen Remus since yesterday, from the moment Lucien had called about Chris, as a matter of fact. Since then everything seemed to have been thrown out of schedule. Remus didn't show up for our practice dinner last night, and my dress arrived late this morning because Rae had to send someone else to get it from the shop. It took a lot of phone calls because Chris couldn't even be reached by phone to authorize the pickup. Having everything going wrong just one day before the ball gives me a bad feeling in my stomach, but I suppose there's no turning back now.

I take a breath and square my shoulders, straightening my back like a queen before I step out to meet my escort for the night. I wonder if this is how those girls walking down the stairs in a prom dress feels before showing herself to her prom date. The excitement I'm experiencing is ridiculous, given that he's not even my date, and I'm not going to prom. I'm going to work with an enemy who expects me to pull off something I've never done and probably risk my neck doing it. It's a job, Vera, I tell myself as I step through the door. Stop acting like a teenage girl in a prom dress!

Still, I can't wait to see the look on his face when he sees me. I might actually be able to hook even Remus in this dress and get him to drink from me tonight if I play the right cards. The moment the bond is complete, from what I've been told, I should be able to feel his emotions, see his vulnerabilities, anticipate his moves. He won't be able to lie or hide from me after that, and I can't wait to wield that power.

The living room is full of people, no, vampires, I correct myself. There are two new guards I haven't met before standing near the door looking as monstrous as two gargoyles waiting to fight some evil that may emerge from my dressing room. From the way Rae stiffens when she sees them, I figure they're not her acquaintance and probably outrank her a few levels. On my right, there's a middle-aged woman I haven't met dressed all in black. Her blond hair is tied back neatly, her suit and pencil skirt impeccable. She wears minimal makeup which makes her look more professional and intimidating than pretty. I wonder what she's here for, but more than that, I wonder why Lucien isn't here. As far as I know, he follows Remus everywhere especially when there are threats to look out for. Something is really, really wrong.

Behind the two bodyguards, Remus is leaning against a console table by the wall, reading something on his phone. He looks up and my breath catches at the sight of him. The man is wearing an impeccably cut graphite grey tuxedo over an unusual black shirt. His shoulder-length jet-black hair is tied back loosely on purpose to offset the neatness of his outfit. His ghostly silver-grey eyes stand out like a sore thumb from the dark clothing he wears. He looks good enough to be up on stage and receive an Oscar, and I'm willing to bet that tux costs more than my car.

It's intimidating. Then again, I'm not exactly pale in comparison.

So I straighten and smile as he runs his eyes up and down my form, giving him an unobstructed view of me. He scrutinizes every inch of my body and finishes with a look that makes me feel like I'm an item at auction being judged by someone who really knows what he's doing.

"No," he says with a grimace.

"I beg your pardon?"

"That dress is a no," Remus replies seriously, professionally.

My jaw drops at the confirmation of what I didn't think I heard correctly. You must be fucking kidding me. "What's wrong with the dress?" Wait. Why did I just ask for an explanation?

Remus uncrosses the arms he's had over his chest and picks up the champagne flute from the table to drink, as always, with the grace to shame a ballet dancer. "The top is too revealing, the silk is too much, and the red screams tramp," he recites between the sips of his vintage Krug as if reading from a textbook. "It makes you look like a commoner who's trying too hard. You don't wear a red Versace to hook a billionaire, you wear it when you already have him on your bed. Isabella." He turns to the woman in black who nods and proceeds to the chair nearby to pick up what looks like another gown in a dress bag. "Fix this, please."

You arrogant, entitled, self-absorbed son of a bitch.

It takes all my effort to not say that out loud in front of his bodyguards and underlings. I don't think I'll live past tonight if I do even if Remus himself wants me alive, although I'm not sure if I want him alive past this minute.

"I like the dress just fine, thank you," I tell him firmly. Fix this? Fix this? No man alive is going to tell me to fix how I look without consequence. I'm so going to give him exactly that as soon as I'm done swearing in my head and I figure out how.

Remus just smiles. He smiles. "Then wear it to prom," he says expressionlessly. "This is a job, Veronica. You want me to be your escort you're going to have to dress for the part." He steps forward and takes me discreetly by the elbow, guiding me to stand next to him in front of the big mirror behind the console table, champagne flute still in hand. "Look. What do you see?"

He's right. I look like his whore. That statement is wrong on so many levels, and I realize I'm stereotyping, discriminating, and thinking like an arrogant, entitled upper-class scum that judges people by what they wear. Still, it is the domain of the arrogant, entitled upper-class scums I am about to enter, and as much as I want to stab him in the heart, he has a point, and I am a professional, not a teenager with a raging hormone.

"Fine," I grumble as I head back towards the dressing room, taking all the effort I can conjure up to not slam the door in his face. Prick. I'm not done swearing, apparently.

Isabella followed soon after with the dress, and now that she's closer to me I can't decide if she's the female version of him or a piano teacher from hell. The woman doesn't talk beyond introducing herself and proceeds to work on me like I'm a sculpture she's shaping in utter precision with a chisel. She's highly professional and quick with her hands, I have to admit, and watching her work is somewhat of a privilege. I can't help but imagine how deadly she would be if she were trained to handle a knife instead of a needle. Those hands are pretty amazing.

It's the first time I've been in a couture dress that needs needling. I've only seen it on TV behind runways and in documentaries. The dress, to my surprise, is all black, and while the neckline plunges down in a v-shape way past my breasts, the sleeves are long and slim. Only half of my back is exposed, and the multi-layer skirt covers my feet. It's decorated with an intricate work of lace and black feathers, with hundreds of little diamonds scatter all over it. Isabella puts my hair up in a simple updo when she was done with the dress, and I never realize how long my neck actually is until she does. She leaves my lips red but adds a darker gloss to make it more subtle, and I can't help but stare in awe at how different I look now.

Black Swan, is the first definition that comes to mind when I see myself in the mirror. I look mysterious, elegant, and high-born at the same time. Behind me, I hear the door clicks open and realize Isabella has opened it for Remus, inviting him in. He walks towards where I'm standing, stops a hand away from my back, and smiles at me in the mirror. No, at us.

Now he's the one complimenting me when we stand next to each other, not the other way around. I brace for something along the line of, 'I told you so,' to come out of his mouth, but Remus just stretches out an arm to take something from Isabella.

"Now, something to complete the picture," he says softly. "May I?"

I draw a breath as I nod, wishing he doesn't notice it or hears the beating of my heart as his right arm crosses over my chest to my left cheek. I lower my eyes to the floor and begin to brush out imaginary wrinkles from my skirt, afraid to look at him and risk seeing something I've been avoiding for the past few days. I haven't been myself around Remus lately, not since that dinner by the pool. There's something different about the way he looks at me or treats me now that gets under my skin. His desire for me is still there, but it's laced with something more subtle, more human than before, and that's the problem. I can't do what I have to if I start seeing him as a person. The moment I allow myself to grow sympathy for his kind I won't be able to kill them.

He's a vampire, and the line that separates us has to remain clear.

Every minute I stand there waiting for him to put those earrings on me is the longest of my life. I resist the urge to bite my lip as he carefully slides in the pin through my left ear, his cool fingers grazing my neck as he fits the backing to secure the piece. I can hear the rustle of his tux behind me as he moves, feel the fabric of his jacket on my back when it brushes my skin. The scent of that aftershave or cologne he always uses reaches my nose, and I'm forced to concentrate on picking off the wings of those things that suddenly come alive in my stomach.

When I look up again, two pigeon blood rubies the size of my thumb are dangling from my ears, matching the shade of my red lips, and now I know why Isabella has put my hair up.

"You're welcome." He must have noticed the way my eyes bulged in awe just now. "I'll be expecting them back before the night is over, by the way."

I snort at that. "A true gentleman would have offered them as a gift. How cheap of you." What a pity, I think. I can probably tear my cabin down and build a mini castle with these rubies.

He laughs and I continue to pick more wings in my belly. "I'm tempted to rise to the occasion," he says, taking a step to the side to give me room, or to have a better view of us in the mirror, I can't tell. "Only they were my mother's, and I'm supposed to keep them for the woman I marry, by tradition."

Another part of him that's not different from us. I stop myself before I allow that thought to sink in. It's hard to imagine him being married though. There's an invisible wall around him that screams off-limits to those who dare approach. Every time I try to peek in he slams the door in my face, and while he's made several attempts to get to know me better, he kept a strict distance, always. I can't see him allowing anyone in or pouring his heart out confiding with anyone. If he ever marries, I'm willing to bet it's not out of love. "What if I lose them?"

"Don't," he says with a serious expression. "You'll have to work for me about three lifetimes for what they're worth." Then he adds with a grin, "Among other things."

I just have to roll my eyes at those last words. "Why even bother?" Why give me something so important to hold on to when he obviously has no need or intention to please me?

Remus stills for a few seconds as if my question has just forced him to check himself. Then he shrugs, and I hate how much he looks human doing it. "Maybe I want you to lose them."

"Spoken like a true asshole." That slips out of my mouth before I recall we're not alone in the room. Taking a quick glance at Isabella, I catch a ghost of a grin from her for the first time that afternoon and immediately decide I like the woman.

"Be careful, Veronica, or I might charge you for the dress, and that you can't afford," he says with a chuckle as he offers me an arm and a mocking, dramatic smile. "Shall we?"

***

A/N: Not much is happening, but it's a scene I need to write for the two of them. The next one will be more action-packed and I can't wait to find the little time I have to write it. Let me know what you think or a vote would be nice if you enjoyed it. :)