Elara stood frozen before the full-length mirror, her fingers nervously adjusting the fabric of the dress. It was a simple piece—one she felt comfortable in—but she wasn't sure it would meet the expectations of Killian's family.
Her reflection stared back at her, uncertain, like a stranger caught in a world she didn't belong to. The dress was modest, a soft beige that complimented her skin tone, with just a hint of elegance. Perfect for a dinner, she thought, something understated yet refined. Yet, the closer she looked, the more self-doubt crept in.
When she heard the door open behind her, she didn't have to turn around to know who it was. Killian's presence filled the room, cold and commanding, like a storm rolling in.
"Are you done?" His voice was flat, uninterested.
Elara turned, her gaze meeting his. She felt the weight of his stare, like a judgment she couldn't escape.
"You're wearing that?" His tone was almost dismissive, his eyes scanning her from head to toe, an expression of displeasure flickering across his face.
Elara's heart sank. "What's wrong with it?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.
He stepped closer, an air of indifference surrounding him. "It's not good enough. You'll stick out like a sore thumb. My family doesn't settle for this."
Elara felt the heat of humiliation rise to her cheeks. She opened her mouth to protest, but he was already turning away, pulling out his phone.
"I'll get something for you," he said, his tone already shifting back to businesslike. "A dress that's more suitable. Something that fits the image."
Her pulse quickened as he tapped away on his phone, his back to her. Elara could only stare, her thoughts spinning. A suitable dress? Was this how little he thought of her judgment, her taste? Did she even have a say in any of this?
"I'll have it delivered in thirty minutes. Don't worry about it," Killian added, not bothering to look back. "You're going to meet my family, and I won't have them thinking you're... unpolished."
Elara's mind reeled. How could he be so... cold? How could he be so detached, ordering her around like she was just another thing to be dressed up for his amusement? But what choice did she have? This was all part of the act.
"Alright," she said, her voice small. She didn't want to argue; she couldn't afford to. Not tonight.
Killian's eyes flicked over his shoulder, his cold gaze locking onto hers for a brief moment. He nodded, seemingly satisfied with his decision. "Good. Get ready. We're leaving soon."
Elara nodded in response, though her heart felt heavy, burdened by the weight of this relationship and the role she was supposed to play.
As Killian left the room, she sank back into the chair, feeling the sting of his words. The dress she had chosen—her only small attempt at feeling comfortable—wasn't good enough. It was a constant reminder that she didn't belong here, in this world of wealth and power that seemed so far out of reach.
Moments later, a knock on the door interrupted her thoughts. The delivery. She wasn't surprised. Killian's world moved at a pace she couldn't quite keep up with, and the pressure only seemed to mount with each passing second.
When the door opened, the new dress was handed to her in a sleek garment bag, its vibrant colors already causing her pulse to race. She couldn't help but feel a pang of resentment. Was she just another possession to be dressed up, a decoration to show off at his side?
With a deep breath, she opened the garment bag. The dress was everything Killian had probably envisioned—bold, daring, and everything she wasn't. A deep crimson satin that shimmered under the light, cut to perfection, and far too revealing for her comfort. It wasn't her. It was him. This was the woman he wanted to show off—the perfect image he was crafting.
---
Elara took a few moments to change, the soft rustle of the fabric echoing in the stillness of the room. When she stepped back into the mirror, her reflection was a stranger's. The dress clung to her curves, accentuating every line, and she felt like a puppet, dressed for a show that wasn't hers to direct. She didn't recognize the woman in the mirror, and it made her feel small, insignificant. She was just a prop in his world. And tonight, she would play her part.
As she stood there, staring at her reflection, Elara's fingers trembled. She wasn't just dressing up; she was becoming someone she didn't know. She needed to make herself presentable, like a mannequin for the wealthy, polished and perfect.
Her hair was a mess of loose waves from the earlier rush, and she quickly reached for the hairbrush. She worked through the knots, pulling it into a smooth, controlled updo. The look was simple but elegant, not too much, just enough to make her look put together.
Her fingers then moved to the makeup bag Killian had insisted she use. She wasn't a fan of heavy makeup—her natural beauty was all she had to rely on—but she knew this was more than just about looking good. She had to look flawless. With practiced motions, she applied a light foundation, concealer under her eyes to cover the exhaustion that seemed to always linger, and a soft blush to give her face some warmth. A swipe of mascara, and then a nude lip gloss that shimmered like glass, giving her a polished look without overdoing it.
When she was done, she looked at herself in the mirror again. This time, she was almost unrecognizable—an image created to fit his vision, not hers.
---
The knock on her door came a few minutes later, signaling that it was time to leave. Elara took a deep breath and straightened her posture, walking towards the door, her heels clicking with each step.
She opened the door to find Killian standing there, his eyes scanning her in that usual cold, appraising manner. His gaze lingered on her briefly, not in the way she expected, but with an intensity that she couldn't quite read.
"Good," he muttered, his voice distant, as if this was just another check off his to-do list.
---
Elara followed him to the elevator, her heart pounding in her chest, unsure of how to feel. They were heading to his family's home. A home she didn't belong to, in a world she wasn't ready for, and in a life that she couldn't escape. Tonight, she would meet the people who held the keys to his world, and she would play the role of his perfect partner, no matter how much she wanted to run.