Page 20 of Unravelling: Aria & Crispin
"It is," Ophelia said, her tone cooling rapidly. "Very much, now that it has found a worthy home."
Dorian finally, reluctantly, offered Aria a glance. His mouth lifted in the barest shadow of a smile, but it didn't reach his eyes.
Before anyone could speak again, the air in the room changed, like the stillness before a storm. His gaze drifted beyond her, and Aria instinctively turned.
Chapter 14
Aria
A ripple passed through the crowd near the archway as a tall, unmistakable silhouette paused just beyond the threshold.
A head of rich, brown curls-ruthlessly tamed into elegant submission-caught the light. He was laughing at something someone said behind him, his jaw sharp, his smile slow and indulgent.
The tailored suit he wore had been cut to fit him-broad across the shoulders, tapered at the waist, the fabric expensive enough to drape like liquid steel. A glimpse of his white shirt, crisp and gleaming, peeped beneath the tailored jacket. Diamond cufflinks sparkled discreetly at his wrists, and his polished leather loafers clicked softly against the stone floor as he stepped forward.
There was something fluid about the way he carried himself, like a man sculpted with effortless power and beauty.
Crispin
He stepped into the room with a practised air of command, dressed in a deep charcoal suit that seemed to drink in the light. His cobalt blue eyes scanned the crowd...and stopped.
Right on her.
For a breathless moment, the air seemed to freeze.
As if on cue, an elegant hand with slender fingers tipped with pale polish touched Crispin's shoulder, the gesture both intimate and possessive.
Helga appeared just behind him. Her svelte frame was wrapped in a sculpted black Dior dress that seemed to be poured over her body, her blonde hair swept into a sculpted updo. Her posture was immaculate, chin slightly lifted, shoulders pulled back as though she had been trained to command. A flawless diamond earring glinted on her earlobe.
After what seemed to be a calculated pause, she moved forward and placed her hand on Crispin's arm with the easy familiarity of someone used to possession. As if prompting him to remember himself or redirect his attention.
Still distracted, his cobalt gaze drifted across the room before Crispin bent his head slightly to hear what she said. His smile was stiff, not quite reaching his eyes. He nodded once before looking back at Helga, his mask firmly in place.
He smiled, tight and dutiful, and nodded to whatever she'd said, his eyes not quite lighting.
Then, reluctantly, he turned back to the room.
"Well, the royalty has arrived," Dorian murmured from behind them. Then, with an almost theatrical sweep of his arm, prompted them forward. "They make a lovely couple, don't they? Let's not keep the prince and his consort waiting."
Crispin looked over, and Aria could swear he looked like he'd just bitten into a particularly sour lemon.
Helga's expression brightened with recognition, her voice suddenly more animated. "Dorian!" she said, her smile enthusiastic as she reached up to kiss him on the cheek. Then she turned to Ophelia. "And you must be Ophelia. I've heard so much about you." Her tone dripped with well-practiced charm and condescension.
Ophelia offered a cool smile, extending her hand, but there was a tension in her spine Aria didn't miss.
Throughout it all, Aria stood a pace behind, as though blending into the shadows.
Helga's eyes flicked to her once-an almost imperceptible narrowing of her gaze-but she said nothing.
It was Dorian who broke the silence, voice smooth and sharp as a knife. "Helga, this is Aria, Ophelia's...carer."
The word was measured, just the right shade of dismissive.
Helga offered a brief, polite smile. "How kind," she murmured, already turning back to Ophelia. "I hope you've been feeling well. You look wonderful."
If Ophelia noticed the slight, she didn't show it, except in the faint cooling of her smile. "I manage," she said.
Aria stood still, her face serene, her pulse hammering. The pendant felt heavier by the second.
