"Wait." Her gaze flickered over me, and I refused to change my posture under the weight of her stare. "You're already dressed for this?"
"It seemed the practical thing to do." I shrugged, knowing full well that to fight Emily Rand on this would be futile. The truth was, we needed the press - we needed the world to know that we were united in our cause, and Emily Rand’s social standing would help with that.
"Are you joking?" She spun around, her gaze filled with anger and panic.
"We needed to do this anyway, so it seemed futile to fight something that she already organized when we would have to do it ourselves anyway in a few days from now."
Her breath hitched with frustration, and I knew that she was swallowing down a groan. For the first time, I was grateful that it wasn't me that served to exasperate her.
"Unless you don't want an engagement photo with me?" I narrowed my gaze on hers as I watched her reaction. Was it possible that she was embarrassed to be associated with me? Sure - all my associates knew who I was - what I stood for, but to the greater population I was simply some wealthy asshole who was a businessman. On paper, Corinne and I were a match - she was a Society girl from a good family, while I was a businessman. But out of all of the things that made us compatible, our histories seemed to matter the least.
Her legs carried her away - towards the staircase where she would undoubtedly ready herself in our room, and as I watched her stride in a way that deliberately put distance between us, I was floored by the irrational urge to pull her back towards me - to make her stay as I stole the breath from her lips. Instead, I clutched the glass of amber liquid between my fingers, allowing it to burn down my throat in a somewhat soothing ache.
As soon as I stepped onto the lawn, the entire demeanor of the photography team seemed to stiffen, as if I were someone to be feared.
Emily Rand and her wop of a husband might be oblivious to who I was, but these people certainly weren’t.
I didn’t have to entertain them long - small talk being at the top of my personal list of tortures that I absolutely despised enduring. Corinne stepped out onto the lawn, and suddenly, I didn’t seem to be the only one who couldn’t rip my gaze from her. She was fucking magnetic, and under the dying sun she seemed to radiate with elegance and grace. In that moment, she was every bit The Empress that I knew she was.
She wore some peach dress that clung to every curve she possessed, a slit running up the side of her leg, opening up with each step she took. And as soon as she approached me, it was as if I could almost hear the collective sigh escape the team - as if they silently acknowledged that her presence would make this easier - worth it, even.
She was oblivious to it all.
Her hand snaked up my chest, and that was where she chose to rest her palm. I realised that her movements were executed with a careful elegance that was ultimately practiced, but it didn’t make my chest constrict any less.
Even I had to admit that the team that Emily had chosen for the job were truly professional as they occasionally flipped the camera around to give us an idea of what the photographs would look like. Corinne looked magnificent and I looked… less hostile.
“Should we do some fun ones?” The take-no-shit lead photographer threw the last question out, and I got the impression that the offer was genuine. I also knew that the offer only came because of Corinne. As the head of the Bratva, no one would dare ask me for some ‘fun’ photos. I had once bloodied my knuckles because an ass wipe had asked if I could pop a squat on the sidewalk with some beer.
I felt Corinne’s entire frame lighten. With each click of the camera, she seemed to shed her stiff upper Manhattan persona and embody the Magick of who she was. I made a mental note to use them for the wedding - and any other family functions we may have. They might not know it yet, but the little photography team assembled on my lawn had just become one of our legitimate suppliers - all because of the way they made my little Vedman feel.
“What did you have in mind?” Corinne took control of the situation, stepping towards them, and for a heartbeat I missed the way her body felt against mine - missed the warmth of her.
The woman smiled mischievously at Corinne, and in any other setting I may have viewed that mischief as a threat, but instead, I hung back and watched my Vedman carefully as an answering smile blossomed on her lips.
“Dimitri.” The way the photographer called my name was in a far friendlier tone than it had been when we began, which made me marvel at the effect that Corinne had on - not just these people, but people in general.
I gazed at the woman, hoping that she took my silence for willingness.
“I need you to throw Corinne in the pool.”
Even from this distance, I felt Corinne smile. It was a strange thing to acknowledge - the ability to feel one’s smile, but nothing about Corinne and I was conventional. She was a Vedman, so things were bound to be different.
I nodded once, hoping that the photographer understood, before I wrapped my arms around Corinne’s waist and hoisted her up.
She squealed and kicked as she beat on my back with clenched fists, but I knew that she was enjoying this - was excited by the prospect of fun.
Would the wedding be fun for her? Had she had any fun since she’d been here?
I liked the sound of her breathy squeals and contained giggles. We needed more of that around here.
And then I launched her towards the water.
Being thrown into a pool should have made her look awkward, but instead, she tilted her head back and smiled at the dying sun as the water almost seemed to part - welcoming her. And where I expected a loud splash, she landed into the pool with the softest welcome, barely making a splash. While I knew that it wasn’t normal, I glanced around at the team to see if their true thoughts were visible in their expressions, instead, I found them hyper focussed, snapping away at the drenched Empress before them. The water seemed to swirl around her, pushing her towards the edge - towards me, as if the element itself were beckoning me to join.
But that couldn’t be right.
“Walk over to her.” The photographer’s voice was soft, but no less commanding than she had been throughout this entire experience.