"Wine red?" she asked, admiring the dress.

"That's a couple of shades lighter. This," he lifted the dress, "This is blood red," he smiled.

She raised an eyebrow, knowing exactly what he meant.

"Just a precaution, my love," he gave her a quick peck.

"You're going to ruin my make-up."

"Nothing can ever ruin how irresistible you are."

And nothing could ruin the powerful couple's goal as they stepped into the hall. A rose hung from his jacket. A rose the same shade as her dress. 

"They pity you," he whispered, pointing at a few arrogant faces, "They think I'll leave you to join their stupid game."

They think she's another naive woman. But the truth was, they're naive. For today, they'll die. He heard the clicks before he saw the guns. He didn't raise a finger, as promised to his beloved. His paradise. His Goddess.

He'd kill for her, but she asked them not to. So he doesn't raise a finger. 

Even though it would blend right in with her dress.

Right with his rose.