Preparing for the Spotlight

Thursday evening crept in like soft silk across Velmora's skyline, the kind of evening that shimmered with the promise of something more. My bedroom was awash in golden light, casting delicate shadows across the carpet. Garment bags hung from my wardrobe door, and pairs of heels stood in rows like soldiers waiting for inspection.

I sat at my vanity, unmoving, staring at my reflection.

This was just another event. I'd been to dozens. My name alone had turned heads since I was seventeen, and I had worn couture longer than most girls wore denim. But tonight felt... different. It had nothing to do with the photographers or the company's media strategy.

It was him.

Blake.

Ever since we returned from Las Veritas, I hadn't stopped thinking about him. About the quiet smiles, the brush of his hand over mine as he passed me a drink, the way he looked at me like I wasn't a puzzle to solve, but a person to know.

The morning after we landed, he hadn't tried to force a conversation. Instead, a single white tulip had been waiting on my desk with a handwritten note: "You were right. Velmora looks better when you're in it."

I had read it twice, smiled, and tucked it into my drawer.

That was three days ago. Each morning since, a new flower and note arrived. No grand declarations. Just gentle persistence. It was unnerving how much I looked forward to it.

Tonight would be our first appearance together since Las Veritas. And our first official one as a couple after the media had begun speculating about a shift in our relationship.

Sarah walked in, tablet in hand, glancing at the array of dresses. "We confirmed your arrival at eight. The press will already be there. You'll walk in with Mr. Aldridge."

I nodded.

She glanced at me. "Do you want me to pick the dress?"

"No. I'll choose."

I rose and walked to the wardrobe, eyes scanning over fabrics. Emerald, silver, midnight blue. All of them elegant, powerful. But my fingers stopped at the deep burgundy silk gown—strapless, with a structured bodice and soft flowing train.

It wasn't a dress of dominance. It was bold but feminine. Fierce but warm.

Like how I wanted to feel tonight.

"I'll wear this," I said.

Sarah smiled faintly, clearly surprised. "It's softer than your usual."

"Maybe I don't need armor tonight."

The words surprised me, but they rang true.

She helped zip me into the gown and arranged my hair in soft waves that framed my face. My makeup was classic, understated but striking. Red lips. Subtle shimmer. Just enough to enhance without overplaying it.

An hour later, I stood in the foyer of the penthouse, Blake waiting just outside the elevator. When the doors opened, he took one look at me and stopped.

"You're stunning," he said, voice low and sincere.

"You clean up well too," I replied, and it wasn't forced.

His tux was immaculate, but it was the way his eyes lingered on me—like he was trying to memorize something—that made my breath catch.

He offered me a single tulip wrapped in white tissue. I took it slowly, fingers brushing his.

"You really are committed to the floral theme," I teased.

"You deserve beautiful things," he said simply.

The elevator ride down to the lobby was quiet, but this silence was different. Not tense. Not awkward. It was filled with something electric, like the space between two magnets just before they pull together.

Flashes lit up the moment we stepped into the lobby. Velvet ropes, security personnel, and the city's most persistent photographers waited like lions outside the glass doors.

The town car pulled up, and the driver opened the door. Blake turned to me.

"Ready?"

I slid my hand around his elbow. "As I'll ever be."

We settled into the back seat, and I let the rhythm of the road calm the storm inside me. Outside, the city glowed beneath the dark sky. Velmora was a jewel tonight, and for once, I didn't feel like I was pretending to be worthy of it.

The gala venue loomed ahead—a historic hotel turned luxury event space. The Aldridge Foundation's banner stretched across the portico, illuminated by chandeliers and golden spotlights. Crowds lined the walkway. Journalists, influencers, and society elites—all waiting.

Our car pulled up.

Blake stepped out first, straightening his jacket. Then he extended his hand to help me out. I took it, and as I rose, I heard the familiar roar of camera shutters.

"Celine! Over here!"

"Blake, smile!"

"Is this your first public appearance as a couple?"

He didn't answer. Neither did I. But he laced his fingers through mine and gave them a gentle squeeze. Not for show. For reassurance.

We walked the carpet slowly, stopping when needed, posing with grace. But our eyes kept finding each other. Between the flashes and the questions, we shared glances that said more than any press release ever could.

Inside, the room sparkled. Crystal chandeliers hung above elegantly dressed guests mingling near the champagne tower. Waiters moved like clockwork. A string quartet played something soft and beautiful.

Blake leaned in. "You okay?"

I nodded. "You?"

"Not quite," he admitted, his lips brushing my ear. "You look like every dream I didn't know I had."

My breath hitched, but I masked it with a smile for the cameras. We moved through the room, shaking hands, exchanging pleasantries, but all the while, my pulse danced.

I didn't know what tonight would lead to. I didn't know how far I could let myself fall.

But I did know one thing.

For the first time in a long time, I wasn't afraid.