8

Scarlett Mila Rodriguez

The fifth day comes, and with it, a ball.

I'm standing in front of the mirror, staring at the dress lying on the bed. It's beautiful, no doubt about it. Deep green, with delicate fabric that glimmers in the light. But I already know I'm going to hate wearing it.

I don't like dresses, especially not ones like this. The straps are thin, the back is low. It shows too much. And it's not just modesty or style...it's the scars.

I can already feel the panic rising as I think about putting it on. The scars on my arms, my back, some hidden deeper beneath the surface. It's all a reminder of my life at home. Of the violence I've endured at the hands of my father.

The scars make me feel vulnerable, like they're an open book to everything I want to forget.

And this dress...it won't hide any of them.

I look at it, fighting the urge to throw it out the window. But I don't have a choice. The ball is tonight and father will be there.

I slip into the dress, my skin prickling with discomfort. When I pull the straps over my shoulders, my hands shake slightly. I hate this. I hate how it makes me feel.

I try to reach for the zipper at the back, but it's out of reach. I twist, stretching my arms behind me, but the zipper refuses to budge. I grit my teeth in frustration.

"Stupid dress." I mutter, fighting the zipper for the third time.

And then, as the universe decides to mock me further, I hear a knock on the door. Before I can say anything, the door creaks open slightly. I turn to see Rowan standing there.

Of all people, it had to be him. Of course.

His gaze flicks to me and I can tell he sees me struggling with the zipper. I immediately feel exposed. Too much skin showing...and my scars. My heart races, embarrassment flooding me.

"I don't need help." I say quickly, looking away. My voice sounding sharper than I intended.

He steps inside, closing the door behind him. "You're too stubborn for your own good, Mila." He says, calmly moving toward me.

"I said I don't need help." I repeat.

Rowan doesn't say anything this time. He just moves behind me, his hands slightly brushing my back as he grabs the zipper. The contact sends a shiver through me. And I'm suddenly hyper aware of how close he is.

I stiffen, hoping, praying, that he doesn't see the scars. I don't want him to ask, I don't want him to see.

"Don't." I say again softer. My voice almost pleading. "Just leave it."

He ignores me. His fingers working the zipper up slowly, carefully. There's something almost gentle about the way he does it.

I sigh, annoyed, more at myself for letting him help. "You really don't listen, do you?" I say.

"I listen," he says, his voice low, right behind me. "Just not to you." He adds.

I roll my eyes even though he can't see it.

Rowan's hands linger on the zipper a moment too long before he steps back. Giving me space.

"You'll be late if you keep standing here, let's go. The others are ready." He says as if that wasn't my plan to begin with. I wanted to be late so I got less time there.

***

The ball is in full swing. Glittering chandeliers casting a soft, golden light over the room. The sound of clicking glasses, laughter and orchestral music fills the air.

I scan the crowd, searching any excuse to avoid them... my family. My heart sinks as I see them walk in. My mother, silent as ever. Her eyes glossing over the crowd like I'm not even here. My father, straight backed and stone faced. His expression sharp and calculating.

I knew they would come, but I didn't expect this sinking feeling to settle in my stomach.

I don't want to face them, but there's no escaping it.

My fathers eyes lock on me with an intensity that makes my blood run cold. Mom longest a few paces behind him.

"Scarlett." My father says his voice low. "How's it going?"

He doesn't wait for an answer. His hand closes around my arm, his grip tight as he pulls me to the side. Out of earshot from the crowd. I don't fight if, but my pulse spikes and suddenly I feel trapped.

"Are you making progress?" He asks. His voice is calm but there's a threat behind it. Shimmering just beneath the surface. I know better than to underestimate him.

"I'm doing everything I can." I say. That's a lie. I'm coming nothing to marry Rowan.

He narrows his eyes at me, his fingers digging into my skin.

"It's not enough, if you don't succeed I'll kill you, Scarlett." He says. My breath catches. I knew my father was ruthless, but this? This is something else entirely. He's never said that before. Threats, yes. But this...he never said he would kill me for it.

"Y...You wouldn't." I manage. My voice barley a whisper. But I see it in his eyes. The cold certainty. He would.

"I've been looking everywhere for you." A familiar voice interrupts us.

I turn my head sharply. Relief flooding through me as I spot Rowan. He steps forward, his face unreadable. Though his eyes flicker to my fathers hand still gripping my arm.

My father lets go of my arm immediately, stepping back with a tight smile. I don't hesitate for a second, I step quickly toward Rowan, moving behind him as if he's a shield. My heart is still racing, but I feel a small flicker of relief by Rowan standing between us.

Rowan's eyes meets mine and for a brief moment, I see it. He knows something's wrong.

But he doesn't acknowledge it. He doesn't say anything to my father, doesn't make a scene. Instead he offers me his hand with a small, easy smile.

"Care to dance?" He asks, as if it's perfectly normal. I swallow hard and force myself to take Rowan's hand. My fingers tremble slightly as they meet his.

"Sure." I manage, my voice steady enough.

Rowan leads me to the dance floor. The weight of my fathers gaze still heavy on my back.

As soon as we step into the rhythm of the music, I feel the tears sting my eyes. I don't cry. I won't let myself. But I'm close. Too close.

Rowan's hand rests on my waist, his other holding mine. Guiding me through the steps. His grip is strong, steady, and I focus on it.

"You're shaking." He says softly, leaning closer as we turn.

I press my lips together, shaking my head slightly, not wanting to answer. I can't speak, if I do, I might break.

"Whatever it is Scarlett, he can't touch you here. Not while you're with me." He says, which means he probably heard it all. Why is he helping me anyway?

He's supposed to hate me.

"What are you getting at?" I ask because I can feel something coming.

"You don't want to be here, and neither do I." He says locking eyes with me.

I stand so very close to him. It's wrong, so wrong. And I for the first time I can take a good look at him. Like, really looking.

His eyes dark, almost black, and when they lock on mine, it feels like he's seeing through me. His dark hair falls just slightly into his eyes.

I hate how attractive he is, how effortlessly it comes to him.

Oh my god. What am I saying!

I've got to stop.

I stay quiet, unsure where this is going.

"My father wants this as much as yours. It's about power, control and reputation. And I've played along for long enough, but I'm getting tired of it." He says.

"I'm so confused. What are you suggesting?" I say.

"You don't want to marry me, and I don't want to marry you." He says.

"Then what's the point of this conversation?" I asks still confused.

He smirks faintly. "The point is, we both want something from this arrangement, and neither of us is getting it right now." He says.

I narrow my eyes. "And what do you want?"

"Freedom. If I marry you, I can play the game on my terms. I won't have to entertain every noble family, every rich suitor they throw at me. I get control." He says.

I blink at him, my mind racing. "So, you're suggesting we...pretend?"

He nods. "We marry, but only in name. This way, you get what you need — you stay alive. And I get what I want — control." He says. The words hang in the air, heavy between us.

"And what happens after?" I ask my voice quiet. The thought of my father's threat still too fresh.

"After, we keep up appearances. We do what's expected. But behind closed doors, we both live our lives the way we want. Away from each other." He says.

It sounds too good to be true. If I don't do this I'll be dead.

I look at him his words sinking in. He's offering me a lifeline. Not a happy ending, but survival. And right now, that's all I can ask for.

"Fine. I'm in." I say. Rowan's grip tightens around my waist, a signal that he understands. "Good." He says.

"But remember if we're going to survive this, you need to play the part. Or else my father will destroy me. And yours will...well you probably know." He says.

A chill runs down my spine. He's right, we'll have to make this look real.

"I'll play the part. But don't expect me to like it." I say.

Rowan's lips twitch into a faint smile. "I wouldn't expect anything else." He says.

I don't know what the future holds but one thing is clear. I'm not dying. Not today.

We got a deal guys! Hope you like it.