CH 3

As soon as Ivelle stepped out into the garden again, she was greeted by the noise and cold, and she suddenly missed the serenity of the washroom.

“I knew I should have chosen the dress with the long sleeves. Next time, I won’t let Celine choose my dress,” she muttered, rubbing her arms in the sleeveless, low-cut bridesmaid’s dress.

A crowd had gathered near the DJ, and people were dancing. With a sigh, she walked forward, hugging herself, while seaching for an empty seat. When she eventually found one, she pulled out her phone and texted John.

'Is the reception completely set now?'

'Yes, Ivelle,' John replied.

'When I say set, I mean food, drinks, and the souvenirs?'

'Everything is in place, Ivelle. Enjoy the wedding and stop stressing yourself.'

She was about to text back a reminder of who was in charge here, when a sudden force interrupted her thoughts—a soft object hitting her squarely on the chest, sending a jolt of surprise through her.

The music seemed to cut off almost at the exact same moment. Blinking, Ivelle looked down, her hands reflexively moving to the source of the impact. It was a bouquet of flowers, nestled awkwardly against her lap.

For a second, she stared at it, her mind slow to register what had just happened. The sudden silence around her snapped her back into the moment. Lifting her head, she realized all eyes were on her. The bouquet... she had caught it.

Of course.

Ivelle’s cheeks warmed as she awkwardly held up the bouquet, managing a small, strained smile. Great. Now, she was the center of attention, something she had absolutely not wanted. She hated being in the spotlight, and now she was the “lucky” one who caught the bride's bouquet. Just perfect.

She could feel the weight of their stares—some surprised, others envious, and more than a few amused. It was almost laughable to her, the idea that catching a bouquet could stir such feelings. The envy, in particular, made her inwardly chuckle. She’d much rather be at home, under a blanket with a book, than standing here as the target of some ancient wedding tradition.

The music resumed again but before she could even process her next action, loud squeals rang out, and Briana and Celine came rushing toward her with wide, mischievous grins.

"Oh my God, Ivelle!" Briana screamed, grabbing her arm. "You caught the bouquet!"

"I swear this is fate!" Celine added, practically bouncing with excitement. "Just when I thought this sash would never come in handy,"

They both held up a "Bride-to-Be" sash, and Ivelle’s heart sank. “No, no, no,” she muttered, trying to step back, but they were faster. The sash was draped over her before she could protest, and they hauled her up from her chair.

"Come on, you’re dancing with us!" Briana declared, already pulling her toward the dance floor.

"I’m not—" Ivelle started, but it was useless. There was no stopping them when they were in this mood. As the music swelled around her, she mentally cursed the universe for making her the center of this spectacle.

When the reception kicked into full gear, she managed to slip away from the dance floor and found herself at the bar. She took a deep breath, her fingers tracing the edge of the wine glass in front of her, half-listening to the background noise. Normally, she’d be indulging in the food by now, but her appetite was non-existent. Something about tonight just felt... off. From Arden’s unexpected appearance, to the figure she saw at the hotel's corridors and now, the flowers.

*************

Soon enough, the excitement for the reception kicked in, and the crowd began to move toward the hall with renewed energy. Inside, the room was filled with the warm glow of candlelight and the clink of glasses as people settled into their seats. At the head of the room, Liam stood, tapping his glass with a spoon, the sound cutting through the hum of conversation.

"Thank you everyone for coming today to celebrate with me and the beautiful Mrs Smith." He gazed at Nami while smiling, "Nami and I have come a long way together, and it fills me with nothing but joy to have you all share our special day with us. To love and to us!"

Liam rose his wine glass in a toast, and everyone smiled, taking a sip. "Let the party begin!" The DJ announced taking over with music.

Ivelle didn't feel like dancing, especially after what had happened on the stage earlier. She looked down at the sash on her. It felt like a cruel joke. Maybe if things had gone well with Arden, she would be planning her wedding as well.

Just as she was about to stand, she heard someone whisper, “Isn’t that Ivelle? You know, the one that used to have a thing for Cole?”

It was one of her 'friends' from college. She recognized Stella immediately and her minion, Rachel. They had their facts wrong. Cole was the one who chased her through their college years, begging her to give him a chance. She'd never taken him seriously because he always emanated the vibes of a rich, spoilt brat.

“Yeah, and she’s the one who called off her engagement. I heard it was a big mess,” Rachel added, whilst clinging onto a man whom she had immediately recognised as Cole, possessively.

“Doesn’t she feel embarrassed grabbing flowers that are useless to her anyway?” Stella retorted.

Ivelle found them amusing, and she smiled thoughtfully before replying, "If you're so desperate to have flowers, all you need to do is hit your head against a wall."

Stella's face turned red with anger, and she looked like she wished she could tear her into pieces.

"And why should she be embarrassed if she has me?" Someone said while making his way to the front. It was Stefan De Luca, her biggest investor. Ivelle frowned.

She could feel the shift in the atmosphere as heads turned toward him, conversations dying down as everyone realized who had just entered the conversation.

Stefan’s arrival was enough to steal the room’s attention. Conversations trailed off as heads turned his way, eyes widening in recognition.

Stefan De Luca wasn’t just any man. As the heir to the De Luca empire, one of the most powerful families in the Calorian Republic, second to the Romanos with the Santinis behind them. His mere presence was commanding, and no one could deny the influence his name carried.

Ivelle’s gaze lingered on him, wondering why he’d stepped in, but she didn’t have time to dwell on it. The De Luca family, like the Romanos and Santinis, carried a reputation that made people hesitate before speaking about them. Their affairs were never publicized, and whispers about them were more often laced with fear. Ivelle frowned but said nothing.

Rachel and Stella, clearly flustered, looked like they were about to burst. With faces red from frustration, they stormed off, Rachel dragging Cole behind her. Just before Cole left, he threw a playful wink in Ivelle’s direction, to which she responded with a slight shake of her head.

As the crowd’s attention returned to the couple on the dance floor, Elena, Ivelle’s cousin, watched the scene unfold with a sharp glint in her eyes. Jealousy burned through her chest as she saw them together. Stefan hadn’t even glanced her way all evening, and that infuriated her.

"Elena, isn't that Stefan De Luca? The man your company recently signed a deal with? Nami is really lucky to have a husband with connections."

"I know, right? Who would have thought we would meet Mr De Luca in person today?"

Elena leaned closer to her friends, Juliet, her voice just loud enough to be overheard. "He’s only here because it’s business. He attends events that benefit him or his investments."

"But why is he dancing with Ivelle and not you? Didn't you say you were well acquainted? How does Ivelle know him?"

Her gaze flicked to Ivelle, irritation clear in her voice. "He’s invested in her business, after all. That’s the only reason he’s dancing with her. There’s no other explanation."

But deep down, even Elena knew that wasn’t the full story. Stefan De Luca didn’t often involve himself in events unless he had something to gain. Still, she hated the attention Ivelle was getting — the attention she felt belonged to her. She had tried all evening to catch his eye, laughing a little too loudly, moving a little too close, hoping he’d notice her. But Stefan had been focused on Ivelle from the moment he arrived, and it stung.

"Mr. Stefan, you really didn’t have to stand up for me back there. Thank you," Ivelle said softly, realizing he still held her hand.

"I didn’t do much. I was simply standing up for someone who didn’t deserve to be spoken to like that," Stefan replied, his tone calm but firm. "Besides, I don’t tolerate disrespect toward people I’m associated with."

"Thank you, really, but..."

"You can just call me Stefan."

"I don’t think that would be appropr—"

"Instead of arguing with your investor," he interrupted smoothly, "why not dance with me?"

Ivelle frowned slightly, uncertain. But before she could refuse, he added with a smile, "You can think of it as a way to repay me for stepping in."

She felt herself smile despite her initial hesitation and allowed him to lead her to the dance floor. As they moved, Ivelle couldn’t shake the feeling that someone was watching her. A familiar aura seemed to linger in the air, stirring a sense of unease within her. She glanced around, searching the crowd, but found no one who held her attention.

‘Why do I keep feeling this way?’ she wondered, a quiet confusion gnawing at her.

-------------

Elena seethed from her spot across the room, her jaw clenched as she watched Ivelle glide across the floor in Stefan’s arms. Her fingers gripped her glass tightly, her frustration growing with every turn of the dance.

When the music finally stopped, Stefan smiled at Ivelle in a way that made her uncomfortable. Instead of returning it, she took a step back, nodding politely.

"Thank you," she muttered quietly.

Stefan’s phone buzzed, and after a quick glance at the screen, he looked back at her. "I’m sorry, Ivelle. I have to leave. Business."

"Of course. Take care,"

Ivelle exhaled, relief washing over her as Stefan turned to leave. "You've done an excellent job with this wedding," he said, his voice low and smooth. "Thank you, Mr..." She paused, meeting his gaze, and smiled mischievously. "Stefan." His eyes crinkled at the corners as he nodded, his expression a mix of amusement and approval. With a brief nod, he turned and walked away, his long strides devouring the distance. The sound of his footsteps faded, leaving Ivelle feeling both relieved and curious.

Ivelle sat down after he left, her thoughts racing. The way he looked at her just now, as if there was something more than just business between them, unsettled her. But why would Stefan De Luca — a man with wealth, power, and options — be interested in someone like her? She barely had time to get her life in order, let alone entertain the idea of a romantic entanglement. Not to mention the inevitable backlash from Elena, who was obsessed with Stefan.

Elena’s eyes never left Ivelle as she sat there, a slow smirk forming on her lips. She would have her moment with Stefan — soon enough. And Ivelle, no matter how lucky she thought she was, wouldn’t stand in her way for long.