I'm dedicating this chapter to @abvgddjzijkl23 for always being one of the firsts to vote on the new chapters, for her support on both of my stories, and for her sweet words of encouragements ❤ Thank you so much, sweetie 😘

"Wow! You're hot!"

The warmth rushes to Anastasia's cheeks almost as fast as her friends to her.

These two could be twins! She ponders at the unison of compliments and hugs Andy and Khloe are giving her.

"Not as much as you two!" She pulls away to give them a once-over and an honest smile.

First, because they are really looking hot; Andy's exotic features are enhanced by his dove grey tuxedo, his pale yellow bow tie perfectly matching his wife's long dress, while her strapless corset is showing off her fit shoulders and her structured black bob falling just above. But they are both always beautiful and stylish, and her smile is mostly because she is thankful to find some familiar faces that will surely help her relax a little bit.

Maybe she should also try to find the bar because she still hasn't had her shot of tequila. Though her insides are tensing and relaxing on that thought, and she can place if this strange sensation is a good or bad sign.

"And this must be Fergus?" Andy hints, making Anastasia come back to reality before she can wander too far.

"Ah, oui, Fergus, this is Andy and Khloe, my best friends. Andy, Khloe, Fergus," she introduces, nervously glancing between the three of them.

This is their first introduction, and even if they have been together for about a month, Fergus still hasn't met her friends, since they haven't found the time yet. She has already met Fergus's friends, and it has gone really well, so she hopes it will go well too. 

It is obviously important in a marriage that the partners get along with their friends, in her view at least, and especially when they are really close friends like Khloe and Andy are for her.

Her stomach is crushed under all these stakes as she watches attentively the interaction, and they don't seem to lighten as Fergus shakes simply her friends' hands. 

She can't put her finger on it, as everything appears perfect from his polite smile to his quick handshake, yet she feels this weird vibe emanating from Fergus, making the air around him chilly and heavy. Though maybe he is just being shy, she tries to reason.

"It's nice to finally meet you." Khloe smiles warmly, paying no mind to Fergus's cold handshake, neither does Andy as he proudly wraps an arm around Anastasia's shoulder, his loud voice echoing around the wide hallway and arising some disapproving or uneasy glances in the few people passing them by.

"The lucky winner of this hot thing!" 

"Yeah, nice to meet you too." Fergus is of one of those uneasy gazes as he searches sideway for Anastasia, who is lightly hitting Andy's arm at the same time that Khloe elbows him, scolding playfully,

"Behave! Don't scare the poor guy away so soon!" 

"Don't mind them! I swear they're really nice once you know them." Anastasia leans toward Fergus, but that doesn't seem to relax him.

"We are as long as you treat her like the queen she is," Andy adds, his stance and his tone straightening up, and despite his usual cheerful attitude, in a moment like this, with his arms still protectively over Anastasia's shoulders, he could look like a threatening big brother.

"I do treat her right," Fergus states, holding Andy's stare, which doesn't falter under the lift of his eyebrow.

Andy knows about Fergus's opposition to Anastasia's career, and Anastasia remembers too well the long list of words he has used when they have talked about it. She can see they aren't far behind his caramel eyes, and although he wouldn't say them out loud, she knows her best friend enough to sense that he is about to make a comment.

"How about we head to the party?" she suggests, finding herself breathless in the suffocating and heavy atmosphere that could resemble a steam room, but freezing. 

This is really not what she needs for tonight, when there are already enough things that could take her breath.

"Oh, yes! I need to find the bar!" Andy chimes, the word 'party' being one of those magical words that always bring back his bright attitude, and the air instantly turns warmer as he lifts a hand up, and they all start walking.

Yet not for long as they stop in their tracks when Anastasia adds, "Me too! I hope they have some tequila." 

"You drink hard liquor?!" Andy and Fergus gasp in unison.

Maybe they have more in common than what she has thought, Anastasia muses. Though Fergus is staring at her, horrified, as if... well, as if she had just broken the law, while Andy looks at her like she has just won an Olympic medal, probably more shocked and proud than if she had just performed a triple somersault.

"Well... generally I don't, but I heard that a shot of tequila helps to ease the nervousness." She can't help the grin tickling her lips, and she just resumes walking towards the door while they all look at her as if she has just grown a second head.

On the other side of that same door, Nate's jaw is hurting from the polite smile he's forcing on his lips for already too long minutes, and actually, his head is starting to ache too as he listens to the two old men in front of him.

He discreetly checks the time once again, holding back an impatient sigh, and instead, nodding at what the two white-haired men are saying. 

He doesn't need to talk much anyway; the two men are gladly monopolizing the conversation, and although the two are very different physically, one tall and thin, and the other short and chubby, both seem passionate about military subjects. But Nate isn't in the mood to talk about that; his work is already taking up too much of his time and thoughts.

He is interested in something else right now, his eyes glancing around the wide ballroom and wandering between the familiar and unknown faces. 

She still isn't there yet. He can't see much in the dim light of the room, but if she was there, he would know; he would feel that irresistible pull toward her, and his skin would tingle, like it is right now as his eyes fall on the slim silhouette by the entrance.

A figure he could recognize among a thousand, in a pale rose long dress, hugging slightly her forms, yet still a little loose, not revealing too much; she doesn't need to. Simple and mesmerizing, that's exactly Anastasia, and he realizes how much the dress is fitting her literally and figuratively when she turns around, taking the rest of his breath.

Like Anastasia, if at first, the front of the dress appears discreet, it's hiding so much more, and the back is letting show her smooth milky skin. With her golden locks tied up in a twisted bun, it's her whole spine that is exposed from her elegant neck to the curve of her hips, and his eyes are following the path all the way down until the delicate lace. The pale fabric is barely contrasting with her white skin, the sight appearing so angelic, so pure, until a hand slides along her lower back, and he suddenly notices she isn't alone. Her fiance is there, his greedy hands wrapping around her angelic frame.

Nate hasn't been expecting to see him with her. She hasn't mentioned he would be coming when they've talked, though he should have known; he is her future husband after all.

He takes a gulp of his drink, trying to dissipate the sour feeling in his throat, as his eyes don't leave the soon-to-be-wed couple, sending daggers to the man in a dark blue suit. He knows he has to stop because this is stupid and dangerous, but he can't look away.

"Nate?"

His attention is drawn back by the chubby man in front of him.

"Mhm?" Nate tries to act naturally, sipping his drink once more, though his glass is quickly emptying.

"I was asking you if they planned to take stronger measures against the many rebellions?"

"Not that I know. I think they try to calm them by allowing more social mix like tonight." Nate has to do an enormous effort to keep his eyes on the deepening wrinkles of the old men and not let them wander where they seem to be glued to.

"Humph, this is ridiculous!" the tall man grumbles. "They won't tame them that way! They need to be tougher!"

"I think they are tough enough," Nate states through his too-tense jaw, but the old men don't pay him attention, already discussing what should be done and planning as if they had a say in military strategies.

So Nate doesn't even try to hold back his sigh and his eyes as he breathes out and focuses back on the entrance. Yet the corner near the large sculpted doors is empty, not a person standing there anymore, not an angel. 

She has disappeared once more, just when he would really need her soft gaze to clear the dark shadows invading his mind, and he glances everywhere in a desperate attempt to catch her silhouette even for just a second to appease his torments. However, she is nowhere to be seen in the large crowded room that is slowly turning suffocating.

"If you'll excuse me." He doesn't wait for a reply before quickly running out on the two men, whose ramblings only bring more dark, haunting thoughts to his memory, and not sure where to go, he heads towards one of the bars.

***

Anastasia may not be at one of her makeshift desks, but this round table in a hidden corner is still doing the trick as she takes out her pen from her clutch and adds another crossing-out to the small piece of paper in her hands. 

If yesterday the paper she has shown to Nathaniel has been blank, this one is covered with words and erasures, almost illegible. Yet she doesn't have more to say.

Maybe she should have had this shot of tequila, but Fergus hasn't let her the time since they have arrived; he has immediately pulled her away to introduce her to some acquaintances. 

Now that she is finally alone, she could maybe order one, though she isn't sure if, through the many sensations in her stomach, she still feels like it.

Maybe Fergus has talked her out of it with his comments about how alcohol would only confuse her thoughts, and it is true that it doesn't resemble her. Nathaniel seems to always drive her to do things out of her ways, yet she never really regrets it. He blurs her mind somehow, and she doesn't know what to think of it. It always feels right, even when it is wrong.

She lets out a heavy sigh. If only he was here, maybe it would be easier, or more complicated.

She hasn't seen him yet, even if her eyes have wandered a lot around the room since she has entered, so much that she now remembers by heart each detail of the wide room, from the number of angular crystals on the chandeliers to each waterfall of white drapery falling in each corner of the room, and every waltz of the silver and white swirling spotlights. Her gaze has glided on the shiny dark wooden floor and passed on every empty or occupied seat too many times to count, stealing glances in the mirrors hanging from the ceiling only to catch deceiving reflects. 

She has glimpsed his wife from afar, her golden dress and loud laugh drawing attention easily, yet not him, and she can't help this empty sensation in her chest. If he was here, she wouldn't feel this, neither the knots of stress in her stomach, but she would surely have another ache, a dangerous one.

She stares at the paper in her hands, now more concerned by existential questions than by her unfinished speech.

"Here, a tequila for you, Miss." A waiter pulls her out of her dilemmas, although he isn't serving her an answer on a silver tray but putting a drink in front of her, and she has to blink a few times between the glass decorated with a slice of lemon and the young man, probably not older than twenty.

"Er... I didn't order anything." Even if her hoarse voice and parched lips could make anyone believe the contrary, she is sure of it.

"Someone ordered it for you."

"Who?" She furrows her eyebrows, her stomach fluttering despite her pragmatic mind trying to comprehend and keep control of everything.

"I can't tell you," the waiter simply replies, avoiding her piercing lawyer gaze, before he disappears toward another table.

She hasn't really needed to ask; she already knows the answer, and as she throws a glance around, she immediately finds a pair of shining tenebrous eyes staring right back at her.

A bright smile stretches her lips as he raises his glass at her.

She doesn't understand how she hasn't spotted him before because among all the many other men, all dressed the same, in tuxedos or suits, he is really standing out. He is wearing a simple black tuxedo, yet the sophisticated fabric is fitting him perfectly, falling perfectly on his strong shoulders like it has been made just for him; well it probably has, she reminds herself.

His dark curls are styled neatly, and the black suit only intensifies their darkness. The only light is in his tenebrous eyes, and the sparkle there is tickling her inside.

She looks down at the drink. She shouldn't... He could have put anything in this glass, yet there is no stronger drug than the one she has tasted on his sinful lips.

Nate is observing her attentively from the other side of the room, biting her lower lip and looking deviously innocent as she's probably hesitating and preoccupied with too many questions. That's what has immediately caught his gaze when he has seen her sitting alone at a table, clutching a crumpled sheet of paper as if it held answers to the mysteries of the universe, and appearing unaware of the world outside.

He is glad, yet surprised, to not see her fiance around. How can this man leave her alone in a corner? Nate can't understand. Though she doesn't seem bothered by the loneliness. She is not one to like those social gatherings, and it's clear she'd rather be behind her makeshift desk, as she has already installed her pen and paper on the table, putting aside the flower of her folded napkin. 

Yet he's also noticed the light frown of her eyebrows, which he's guessed hasn't been only out of concentration just by the way it's been shadowing her whole features.

So he wants to ease her worries, even if he hasn't dared to get too close to her, and he's happy to watch this frown disappearing as she lifts up her glass, the same glint in her eyes as on their first encounter when she's offered him her pure finger.

They sip together the alcohol, sharing a closeness from afar, and he holds back a laugh at her cute little grimace when the bitterness burns her throat. The giddiness invading him isn't from the modest amount of alcohol – which he knows his body can take so much more – but the effects of this woman on him.

He grins, watching her take another long sip of the drink. Fascinating, that's all he can think, especially when her eyes find his again, a special glow illuminating them even more as the alcohol is slowly hitting her, but maybe also something else, an invitation?

He takes a breath, gathering the courage to go to her, unless it is the cowardize to give in to his body?

"Babe!"

Whatever it is, it's frozen before he can take a step as he's pulled back by another force: Pamela grabbing his arm, and his head is spinning when he meets her big brown eyes.

"What are you doing here all alone?! I need to introduce you to Mr. and Mrs. Windsor." She points to a middle-aged couple, neither of them looking friendly, as their features are stiff in a mix of disdain and facelift. "She is one of the most influential ladies in the association. I need you to do your charm offensive," she whispers in his ear, already dragging him towards the 'nice' couple.

"Can't you offer them your own charm offensive?" Nate lifts an eyebrow, not able to keep his annoyance inside, though he hides it behind a sweet tone, and the heavy sigh he holds back is weighing on his chest as he gives one last glance behind, finding Anastasia's gaze already focused on her paper, and shadowed with a light frown again.

A little later, Anastasia is still seated at the same table, yet now, the empty chairs around have been filled by Fergus, her friends, and another lovely couple, slightly older than them, and it is the rest of the table that has been cleared: the glasses half-empty, the napkins on their laps, and the dirty dishes taken away by the waiters while everyone attention is focused on the large stage.

The awards presentation has already started some minutes ago, since they have chosen to put it between the main course and the desserts, like some kind of palate cleanser, though Anastasia hasn't eaten much.

Finally, the people's speeches so far aren't really exceptional, not mentioning much the charities, and the more she hears them, the more the sensation of being out of place is growing along with the knots in her stomach, and the more she visualizes the words she has written on her paper being crossed out. 

She isn't even sure which language to use to reach all those different people around, and as she throws an umpteenth glance around the room, her eyes automatically fall on a now-familiar silhouette.

But what she still isn't used to is the woman, his wife, glued to his arm with a big smile, and although Anastasia doesn't see much in the dim lighting – since they're on the other side of the room, in the center – this sight of Nathaniel is enough to turn her stomach a little bit more, and she quickly averts her gaze from the perfect couple, coming back to her table in the corner.

Funny how they have organized this ball to encourage social mix, yet the boundaries between the classes are still well visible in the large room, just the arrangement of the tables and lights making it feel like there are a million miles separating these two worlds.

Anastasia seeks some comfort in the world she belongs to, blinking back between her friends, who are discreetly whispering comments about people's outfits, and Fergus. 

Her eyes slide down to his hand entangled with hers; she has almost forgotten it. His skin is the same temperature as her, and it doesn't bring her warmth, cold, or any other sensation. Is it what is supposed to feel comforting? She wonders as the feeling resembles more the emptiness in her chest.

That's when her name is called through the mic, and her doubts are pushed down for later under the nervousness falling on her stomach and tensed shoulders. She is already focusing hard to get up on her unassured leg, vaguely feeling Fergus give her a soft kiss on the hand, and hearing Andy's encouragements over the mild applause.

"Show them what you've got, girl!"

She smiles upon the latter, giving her a little boost of confidence to walk through the large room, and once she arrives on the stage, she is already glad to have gotten there without tripping; it is half of the ordeal done with a long dress and high heels, especially for her. 

Though she starts to doubt it has really been an ordeal in comparison with what's to come, when she is greeted by a middle-aged woman looking her up and down with contempt, not even offering her a tiny smile; well, she might not be physically able to with her facelift.

"Er... thank you." She accepts the angular statuette the woman – Mrs. Windsor, if she remembers well how they have introduced her earlier – is handing her, and she takes a hesitant step towards the micro.

Instantly, she is greeted by the blinding light of a spotlight, but mostly by the wide room and all the people seated at their tables appearing to her view, and her stomach is filling up with more and more weights as she crosses too many emotionless and cold gazes. She desperately tries to swallow them and find her voice in this growing lump, yet she seems to be the one consumed and overwhelmed as she realizes she really doesn't belong to this world.

Though finding her voice isn't the only problem as her mind is turning blank, probably as much as her face, and she wouldn't remember the words she has struck out on her paper anyway. The only clear thought appearing to her is to run away far, and the impulse is already going to her legs when she meets a warm and intense gaze.

She doesn't need to escape far away anymore. In Nathaniel's eyes, she finds comfort; she finds home, and for a second, she forgets everything around, being welcomed by an infinite in the shine of his tenebrous eyes.

He offers her a nod and a reassuring smile, and through his gaze, she can almost hear his soothing voice saying 'Speak with your heart'. 

She smiles back as her chest swells up and all the heavy knots disappear; there is only a warm lightness and the thuds of her heart, and in her mind, the right words to express.

"I don't know if I deserve this more than any other volunteer..." She eyes the statuette for a brief second. "We're all deserving, and it's together that we're doing a helpful work." She pauses, smiling at her friends before her sparkling eyes instinctively go back to Nathaniel. 

"I think we all can be heroes in our own way, anyone can help. It can be as simple as giving away the clothes you don't wear anymore, your old toys, the phones you're changing every six months to be at the leading edge of technology, or even baking a little bit more cookies to offer them to those in need," she continues, letting her heart and her lawyer brain speak.

"It seems like nothing for us, but it can really better someone's life. And I promise you that it's the best reward! For example, when I bought my dress for tonight, it was going with a little headpiece that I didn't use, so I gave it to the shelter, and you should've seen the smile of the little girl who got it. She wore it proudly all day, waving like a princess. That is the best reward!" she explains happily, though she realizes she might be getting carried away, so she quickly finishes, 

"And I suggest you, in honor of this ball, to donate, even just a little, to any of these charities, and we can all share this." She lifts up the statuette, and a loud round of applause echoes in the room, yet she only hears the first one, her heart fluttering. Like he has said, he isn't the only one; like he has said, he is the first one: Nathaniel.

Nate applauds heartily. He's known she would do a perfect speech, yet she's still managed to amaze him, and he isn't the only one, judging by the thundering applause. 

She's really talked with her heart, her beautiful heart, and he could listen to her talk for hours and hours when she speaks like this, the determinate sparkle in her eyes illuminating the world like a light of hope in the darkness.

He's so dazzled by her shine that at first, he doesn't notice his wife joining her on stage; at least until the sight of them shaking hands bursts his little bubble of cheerfulness in which Anastasia has put him in, and he crashes back to reality. It's a harsh fall, and he's stunned as he doesn't know what he's feeling, the impression of being constricted and empty at the same time making it hard to breathe.

It's like two worlds colliding, two polar opposites. Pamela's golden tight dress is catching all the eyes, but Nate's ones are only on Anastasia and her pale dress.

He watches them part. Pamela, like the tempest of confidence she is, is already greeting some influential people, making her way in the society and getting what she wants with a wide smile. While Anastasia is discreetly going back to her corner, after turning people's minds; she is a tornado of good intentions and love, fighting for what she believes in, and Nate realizes he is getting swept off his feet.

So what do you think of the Tornado Anastasia and her speech? The tequila really helped! 😉

And the introduction between Fergus and her friends? 🤔

A lot seems to be happening in this ball, and it might not be over yet... 😉

Don't forget to vote and comment if you liked this chapter! All your feedbacks are illuminating my days, so keep letting me know your thoughts, my little rays of sunshine! I LOVE YOU ALL!!! ❤