With the social event in full swing, Yulianna threads her way through the crowd where Vien spotted. But suddenly, a hand clasps her arm behind.
She turns around to see a man standing, a smug smile too wide on his face.
"Lady Yulianna," he says in a voice dripping with false politeness. "I've been meaning to speak with you. Your presence, as always, lights up this dull gathering."
Yulianna knows his flattery for what it is, empty and calculated. She's already uncomfortable around him. His arrogance is too much to ignore and the way he watches her sends a shiver down her spine. Still, she maintains her composure.
"I'm sure that there are many eager to speak with you this evening," she replied as she tried to move past him.
What she said was true. The man had the face and charm of what a woman looks for. Only Yulianna finds his presence disturbing.
However, he isn't ready to let her go. He steps in front of her, blocking her path, his gaze locking into her with an unsettling intensity. "Ah, but none are as important as this conversation, my lady. You see, we have unfinished business between us."
Yulianna stops. A flicker of annoyance crossed her face. And what could it be?
"I must admit, I was hurt by your rejection. A marriage between our families would have been mutually beneficial. Yet you dismissed me out of hand," he continued.
His tone takes on a more self-pitying, almost threatening note.
"Perhaps we can have a private conversation about this. Surely, a lady of your stature must understand the importance of family alliances."
Yulianna already knows where this is headed. His rejected offer of marriage has bruised his ego. He isn't used to being turned down, and he has yet to let it go.
"If that's the case, I don't see the need for further conversation," she answered. Her voice tightens with barely contained frustration. "As I've made clear before, I do not wish to marry you."
But he isn't having it. His steps went closer, hands now resting too firmly on her arm. "Come now, my lady. You cannot expect me to make such a decision and not answer for it. You're making a mistake. A very costly mistake."
Yulianna doesn't want to be the one to make a scene, but she's getting fed up with his insistence. Her eyes flicker to Vien, who's now mingling with other nobles. She wishes she could break free.
But with a calculated force, he pulls her towards the balcony. Once they were away from the crowd, his demeanor changed. His grip on her arm was almost painful now. His smile vanished, replaced by a sneer.
"You'll regret your decision, I assure you. I've let you play your games long enough, but now it's time to face the consequences of your actions." His hand moves from her arm to her waist, trying to pull her closer.
The man's arrogance, his entitlement—everything about him feels suffocating. Yulianna closed her eyes and exhaled. The physical proximity makes her stomach churn. She's fed up with him.
"You dipshit!"
Without hesitation, her hand moves and punches him square in the face. The blow lands with a satisfying thud that sends him stumbling backward.
"You're one of the most desperate and annoying individuals, you know that?" Yulianna spat, massaging her wrist.
"You-"
The man stumbles, touching his bruised cheek. His face now red with anger and humiliation. He raises a hand as if to strike back, but there's something in Yulianna's gaze that makes him hesitate.
"What? You want to hit me back? Go on, then," Yulianna snapped.
Her voice was sharp with irritation, so sharp she might as well have used her knee to finish the job. However, such an act would only drain her energy. Or worse, damage her public image if the situation wasn't handled properly.
She shot him a glare, her eyes were deadly as a viper's. "But I'll make sure you have no face to show to everyone once your arrogance and unacceptable behavior reaches my father's ears." Her words come out almost unnaturally calm. Enough to trigger the fear Yulianna wanted to see from him.
As if on cue, his face drained with color. And moments later, he vanished from her sight.
"Well, that was quick." Yulianna commented with a shrug. She didn't know how effective it could be to simply mention the Duke's name.
But then, her plan fell apart. Worst of all, she couldn't possibly go back to the party looking like she'd just roughed someone up. And the last thing she needed was to cross paths with her stepmother and stepsister while still brimming with frustration.
Yulianna's only option led her to the balcony.
"Damn that bastard," she muttered under her breath.
With no time to double back, she acted on instinct. Climbing over the balcony railing, she jumped.
The impact jolted her as she hit the ground, but she rolled quickly to lessen the blow. Dirt clung to her dress, and her feet were bare, but she wasted no time. She stood, dusted herself off, and walked into the darkness.
On the other hand, Duke Caspien of the Knight household, stood motionless at the other side of the balcony. His towering figure is framed by the soft glow of the moonlight.
From his vantage point, he had been watching Yulianna from the beginning–until she jumped and walked barefoot into the darkness. His expression remained composed, almost serene. But his sharp and unyielding gaze betrayed a hint of amusement.
"Yulianna McGregor… of the McGregor household, Your Grace?" Theron, one of Duke Caspien's most trusted assistants, asked, brows furrowed in confusion.
He glanced at the Duke, searching for any sign of displeasure. But Caspien wore the same cold expression he had since his arrival.
That was unusual. Normally, he'd wear a look of disgust when uttering a noble lady's name.
"Yes, that one," Duke Caspien replied curtly. He lit a cigarette, brought it to his lips, and drew in the mentol-laced smoke with practiced ease.
His eyes, as deep and blue as the ocean, reflected the flickering flames from the fireplace. They were intimidating—too cold, too void of emotion to hold one's gaze for long. And yet, despite their iciness, his face possessed a beauty that could allure anyone.
"What about her, Your Grace?" Theron asked, scratching the back of his neck in visible confusion.
What's going on? He never asks about anyone this calmly. No—he even looked this composed after attending the ball.
Caspien set the cigarette down in the ashtray, touching his chin. "Tell me more about her," he said.
"Pardon me, Your Grace?" Theron staggered, unsure if he was hearing things or if he'd completely lost it. As far as he knew, His Grace never asked about noble ladies. Ever.
"Must I repeat myself, Theron?" the Duke returned, his voice flat and devoid of enthusiasm.
"N-No, Your Grace… if that's what you wish to hear."
"Lady Yulianna embodies the very essence of noble grace and discipline, Your Grace," Theron continued. "As the only daughter of Duke Rohane, she carried herself with quiet dignity. Known for her polished manners, reserved demeanor, and unwavering composure, she was seen as the ideal noblewoman—never scandalous, never frivolous."
The silence stretched longer than Theron had anticipated. He found himself battling with doubt, wondering what had gotten into the Duke.
To his surprise, Duke Caspien seems far more troubled than he appears. His cold exterior betrayed a deeper confusion.
"Is that so?" Caspien said at last, a glint of amusement flashing in his eyes. Dig a little deeper. She's far more interesting than the rumors suggest."