~ Daniella ~

“Put me down!” I yelled, my voice straining, but my order fell on deaf ears as the stranger continued to lift me as if I weighed nothing and marched down the stairs of the center stage.

I flung my hand in the air and squirmed from his hold, but he tightened his arms even more, insisting the bridal-style position he had put me in.

“Put me down I say!” I ordered again, this time feeling myself in a panic yet in deep blush.

We passed the spacious dance hall, disregarding the look of surprise in my team’s eyes. I gave them a silent look of help, but it seemed they were too engrossed with the drama that they failed to see my desperation.

“Wrap that damn wound of yours with the end of your blazer, woman. I don’t want it dripping blood on the floor, ” he grounded without looking at me.

His face, although fine-looking, was set in a hard scowl. He was angry over something or probably angry with me and that’s the problem because I don’t even know why.

I, however, wrapped my wounded fingers with the hem of my blazer, but I did it not because he commanded me to, but because I was worried seeing the gushing crimson liquid soaking the table napkin that I had temporarily used to bound it.

“And who the hell are you?!” I asked, glaring at him like I had the sharpest knife in my eyes.

Still, he didn’t glance my way. He continued to the nearest exit door of the function hall and there, finally, he released me.

Before my feet could touch the carpeted floor, I jumped out from his hold and stepped back a couple of feet away. My bleeding fingers were nursed by my other hand and pressed against my chest while I clenched my teeth in irritation.

“Sheeshh, you’re so noisy, ” was his calm statement whilst massaging the bridge of his nose. It failed to soften his stone face though.

Swiftly, he reached for my uninjured hand and attempted to pull me towards the hallway leading to the main second floor foyer, but I stood my ground and made myself impossible to be towed.

“Where are you taking me?” I asked with one brow lifted to show my resistance. It was just a facade though for in truth I really was shaking inside. Although he looked like a guest in the chateau I am in, he was still a stranger to me and strangers definitely raise up a red flag.

“Just come with me, ” was his cool reply acting as if he knew me. He pulled my hand again. I quickly stepped back to secure it. It left him clutching air instead.

“Uh no, ” I voiced out, shaking my head. “Thank you, Sir, but no, I will not go anywhere with you.”

You might be a murderer or a rapist or something for all I know!

In my viewpoint, I saw his brow twitch and then he pressed his lips into a hard line as if it wasn’t hard enough in the beginning.

“Suit yourself, ” he calmly replied and then he pulled my arm with force.

With a huff, I remained still and unbending, but in the end, it was pointless for effortlessly, he used his advantageous masculine strength and pulled me again, leaving me stumbling and catching up my balance.

“Unhand me!” I cried out quickly, but he continued to drag me along the hallway, looking determined as hell to complete whatever he had planned on me....

Hold up.

Pause and rewind.

You are probably asking what the hell is going on, right?

Well, just as you have initially guessed, I am being held against my will by a stranger and it all started because of one unfortunate accident that happened minutes ago....

***

“Are you sure you want me to leave, boss?” Ericka, my ever-so-reliant assistant, asked whilst descending the portable metal ladder.

We were in the center stage of a function hall called the ‘President’s Hall’ in Le Chateau de Esclavette decorating for a wedding reception that will happen four hours from now. We are best of friends really but when we are working, she prefers to call me ‘boss’ for purposes of respect and seniority. She was after all my mother’s employee and under my supervision.

I nodded and stood up from squatting. Boxes of elegant decorations were on my feet ready and waiting to be glued and stapled on the stage background.

“Yeah, I can manage Kee, ” I said, using her nickname. “Just leave the buckets in the platform. I’d like to handle the stage decor all by myself.”

She looked at me, unsure, but nevertheless, nodded in surrender. “Alright, ” she took one box labeled ‘table decors’ and stated before walking out of the stage, “Call me if you need anything boss.”

“Thanks, ” I smiled at her and watched as she walked down.

“Oh, by the way, ” she paused and turned to look at me again, “Are you sure you want to wear that loose ring?”

My brows furrowed in confusion and then watched the said object nestled in my ring finger.

Of course, she’d be worried about it. It was bigger than my finger.

This loose ring was given by my mother as the Rosecraft family heirloom. Since I’m the only daughter, I became the undebatable recipient of it. She gave me this during my nineteenth birthday nine months ago. She says it brings good luck, charm on the holder, and untold romance — NOT that I need it. She called it ‘The Emerald Flower’ with diamond petals and an emerald stone in the middle.

“Yeah, you know this is my lucky charm Kee, ” I stated with a lopsided grin.

“It is intended to be that, but will you be able to work properly with it?” she asked knowing that many times in our wedding decorating activities, the said ring had limited me from doing my best.

“Mmmh, you mean managing the ribbons and the glitters?” I clarified.

She nodded.

“Well, I’ll manage, ” I answered, pretty sure of myself.

“Right, ” she said and then turned heels towards the half-decorated tables.

I am an advanced Fine Arts graduate. My eyes are keen on artsy details and decorative styles which kinda suited well with the family business of organizing weddings and other events.

My mother is the CEO and I am the sole heir of our business. Since she thinks that I am of right age to be given a project, she gave me this: as the head of the wedding reception of one of our very important clients: Ms. Elaine Mckenzie, a ten-time Grammy Award Winning actress, and major socialite and her outrageously-rich beau, Mr. Aaron Roslin.

They chose to hold their wedding reception in Le Chateau de Esclavette - my ultimate wedding destination.

For me, it is my crème de la crème of all wedding receptions. My ideal dreamland where the haut monde and elite especially gathers during a party. Picture the interiors of Palace of Versailles, the facade of Hotel de Paris - Monte Carlo, and the Drummond Castle gardens joined in one.

Everyone wants in, but not all have the opportunity to graze its halls. It is owned by the Fancy Pants Club. Only accessed by either its members, or those permitted by the Club council, or if the person or the couple are rich enough to pay for the outrageous rent payments.

Yup! Think about nine and five and add four zeros after it. That’s the rent. Outrageous right?

But anyway, it is so worth it. The place is just hands-down magnificent.

The Fancy Pants Club considers the chateau as basically their clubhouse. It is located in Beverly Hills, California and that unfortunately is where my knowledge ends. Since I was born in London but raised in the Big Apple, I have no idea who the members of the club are. All I know is that I just adore their clubhouse ever since I saw it in one of my mother’s hanging photos in her Manhattan office.

Now, I am no elite and neither is my family, but because our business is the most sought-after in London and the US, and because my current clients are popular people, we are able to enter the chateau.

I have been here for almost five hours busily setting up the things that are needed during the star-studded party. My team is with me, provided of course by the Company, but on this occasion, I personally chose to decorate the center stage all by myself.

“Alright, here I go, ” I uttered to myself before climbing the ladder that was secured against the background wall.

It wasn’t high really, just about ten feet. Next to it was a makeshift platform set up earlier with two buckets on top that I instructed Ericka to leave. She had been using these to paint the ceiling cherubs with gold luster dust.

Now, I will do the same, but before doing that, I took out a cutter next to the bucket of glue and trimmed the cherub’s ribbons first.

With the loose ring, it took me quite a few minutes to do the trimming. I had thought of taking it out and putting it in my slacks pocket, but I opted to keep it in my hand instead. As I said, it brings good luck which was something that I am praying for in a big project such as this.

I was so intent on doing it right that I lost focus on other matters. What happened next was me feeling a sharp slicing pain in my forefinger and thumb.

“Owww.”

The cutter had made a deep cut on them.

I immediately placed the object down and on impulse, shook my left hand vigorously to ease the pain. Noticing my blood oozing excessively and staining my white slacks and cream top, I quickly took a table napkin from my blazer and wrapped it around the wounds.

“Shoot. Oh, God... This is not good.” I winced again, gritting my teeth as I felt the stinging sensation. Tears actually collected in the corner of my eyes but I blinked it out.

‘Why must this happen to me now?’ I cried out loud. I thought the ring brings good luck? Why is it not worki—

Oh no...

A red flag immediately appeared on my head. That’s when I realized that my ring wasn’t on my finger anymore.

Not good.

“Oh God, where is that ring!” On top of the ladder, I was torn between nursing my wounds and finding the heirloom. Panic rushed through me when the thought of my mother’s angry face popped out.

Then, in the middle of my dread, a cold hand suddenly touched my right ankle.

“Shit!” I shouted, jerking in surprise. I whirled around, arms flailing unceremoniously in all sides and because of that I accidentally hit the buckets. The contents in them spilled quickly and guess where it all landed?

In the head of a stranger looking murderously at me. Yup, no biggie really.

He was wearing an expensive-looking suit, well-ironed and not a speck of dirt in its white cloth. (Well, that’s if you don’t count the glitters in his shoulders.) The coat was half-buttoned. He would have been a perfect male apparition if not for the mess I had created on top his head - in his glorious, messy yet stylish brown hair.

He was like a pancake, all sauced up with white glue and topped with luster dust. I wanted to laugh then because he kinda looked funny appearing like a bedazzled Olympian God, but I remained as still as a stone. My mouth just jammed open; unable to produce any words of apology; horrified and at the same time mesmerized by him.

Such magical eyes.

Bluish-green ringed with hazel was their color completing the handsomeness of his face. He was tall; I reckon about six feet? His shoulders were broad, abdomen flat but he was standing ramrod straight with an air of self-importance in him.

That didn’t hide the fact that he looked silly though.

Sexily, he combed his hair with his fingers. In the process, his hand greased up with the glue, but he didn’t seem bothered at all... or maybe he was just too stoic, too excellent at hiding his expressions. I saw him put something in his pants pocket quickly. If he was hiding it, it was useless because I could see the tiny object protruding in his pants.

He released a sigh, a very long sigh, and as I watched I could detail out an angry twitch in the corner of his mouth.

“Ignorant woman, ” he drawled, I arched a brow, “you are staining blood in my expensive carpet.”

Toss him in the cliff! Impale him with a pitchfork! Burn him alive! Those were my brain’s furious commands. The hell he think he is?! Tsk! Disrespectful bastard calling me an ignorant!

Before I could voice out my callous remark, he pulled my leg out towards him, and me, the comely, refined Daniella Rosecraft, came tumbling down onto his wide arms.

I gasped midair; my heart pounding like crazy and my eyes constricted in fear.

Once he caught me, I thought I was safe, but when I looked into his glittered face, I realized I was nowhere near heaven. This devil was scowling at me....

Pause.

***

And that’s how it all started.

Now, focusing on the present, the handsome, but outrageously rude stranger continued the path towards the second floor foyer. His hand was tightly holding my arm while I struggled to keep up his long strides with my four-inch heels.

“Hey, asshole!” I cried out loudly. “I demand to know where you are taking me?! I understand I bedazzled and glued you, and I’m sorry for that. Really. But it was an accident! You startled me!”

My complaint fell on deaf ears again.

Many of the soul’s present — mostly staff of the mansion putting up vases of white orchids — gawked at us. They seem to find our fiasco unexpected, but one tall man wearing a red turban and black tuxedo showed quite an opposite expression. He was actually smirking.

The stranger continued to drag me into another hallway to the right and then he turned to a path towards a closed white door. Although confused still, I felt fear start to climb its way into the surface. With his gloomy aura and the psychopath silence, who wouldn’t be right?

He opened the door, but before he could push me inside, I raised my free arm (the one with the deep cut), made an iron fist out of it (amidst the slicing pain), and gave him a strong uppercut! (Or at least what I think is strong.)

“Dammit woman!” he spat, touching his chin with his free hand. I bet I did a good blow because I could see him wincing slightly.

Huh! And look at that, a small part of his lovely chiseled jaw showed an early bruise!

I grinned in triumph.

“I said let me go! If you won’t, I will punch you again! Stronger this time! I can do that you know!” I threatened, lifting up my fist in between us.

But damn... he didn’t even look affected at all with my— (okay, let’s face it) my mediocre threat. With my slender, feminine hands, I doubt I can accomplish that and he seemed to see right through me.

“Get inside, ” he simply commanded.

“Uhh, no way. Why would I do that?!” I exclaimed, wriggling my arms to try to loosen his grip.

He scowled at me again. “Look what you’ve done, ” he drawled again. What’s with him and the drawling thing?! “You are staining the second floor’s carpet now. I might have to let you pay on the damages, Wild Woman.”

He watched my wounded fingers still dripping with blood and leaned closer to me, ultimately trespassing my personal space. I leaned back; giving him another dagger-like glare.

“Now, go to the nurse and have that bandaged up and disinfected. Don’t complain, don’t go Super Saiyan on me, and don’t do reckless things, or I will glue a six-zero cheque on your sexy ass right now for you to pay later after your client’s wedding. Capisce?”

What the— Just who is this man in front of me?

But wait, did he just say nurse?

He released my arm and crossed his arms on his chest, looking at me with a slight curve of his mouth.

With wide eyes, I peeped on the inside of the room and found two females wearing matching white nurse uniforms talking to one another. In their front desk, there was a sign with the words ‘Le Chateau de Esclavette Clinica’ in bold letters.

My mind immediately registered the facts.

“Oh, ” I said, embarrassed with myself. Although it was hard, I gave him a lopsided smile; my only meager way of showing my gratitude.

He raised a glittery brow and said, “You’re welcome.”

“You could have just told me we were going to the clinic, ” I said with a frown, wrapping my fingers with my blazer again, “we could have avoided this...misunderstanding.”

“You are the only one who misunderstood the situation, Ms. Rosecraft, ” he answered me, now with a blank expression. “I suggest you don’t overthink simple things, and next time, do your research. Your temper and ignorance are way too deadly in a place like this.”

What are you freaking saying? I wanted to ask that one but decided not to. I instead just simply surrendered and walked inside to the front desk without giving him a backward glance. The nurses inside however when they noticed the man, widened their eyes briefly. Then, as their composure regained, they gave him a low bow which I found a bit odd.

Maybe it was a sign of greeting their guests? Maybe it was.

I heard the door close and realized that he left. Good. My bedazzled stranger is finally out of my sight. I seriously don’t want to see that arrogant, acting all-high-and-mighty man ever again.

“Good afternoon Madame, ” greeted the older-looking nurse.

“Hi, good afternoon too, ” I answered sheepishly.

“What seems to be the problem?” She took out a form and handed it to me.

“Well...” I said and then showed them my bleeding forefinger and thumb, “I just needed this bandaged up and disinfected.”