A tall man with broad shoulders, dirty blond hair, and striking green eyes is studying a short brunette woman in a blood red, floor length dress, who is holding a flute of champagne.
The pair, lurking in the shadows, just finished giving toasts and thanking everybody for coming to celebrate Antonia Stark's 21st birthday.
The man, James Bradford, was sweating. He was nervous as fuck. And for good reason, he was planning on proposing to his girlfriend, the woman in the red dress, Antonia Stark, before the night was over.
They have only been dating for two and a half years, but have been best friends for five.
He was fidgeting all over the place, pulling on his collar, loosening the bow tie, and why was it so fucking hot in here?
"Are you okay, James?"
His eyes snapped to Antonia's face at the sound of her angelic voice. He took in her beauty; the impossibly long and dark eyelashes, framing her doe-like eyes; the ruby red lips, pulled into a small smile, showing off her brilliantly white teeth; the high cheek bones and delicate bone structure.
God, he wanted to kiss her right there and take her home, away from the greedy gazes of the paparazzi and fake smiles of the people who claim to be friends. As if.
He shook the thoughts out of his head and answered his, hopefully, soon-to-be fiancé.
"Yes. Why wouldn't I be?" He smiled, and grabbed her right hand, bringing it up to his lips to press a gentle kiss to the palm of her small, gloved hand.
She beamed up at him, pleased with such a small motion, but one he did at least once a day, every day since they started dating, and some days before.
"I love you."
Only three words, but every time they were spoken by this particular woman, always managed to make his heart skip a beat.
He leaned down to press his lips to her soft, full ones. It was chaste, barely touching, but still made both of them smile.
"Dance with me." He held his hand out and she placed her hand in it.
He led her to the center of the dance floor, people shuffling out of the way and the paparazzi pushing and shoving, trying to get a good picture of the happy couple.
He put his large hand on her waist, and she put hers on his shoulder.
They danced. Barely noticing the flashing of cameras, or random questions shouted by the paparazzi, they danced.
Suddenly, the blonde stopped and pulled a little box out of his pocket, and knelt down on one knee.
The brunette gasped; her hand flying to her throat in surprise.
"Antonia Stark, I've loved you from the first day I ever set eyes on you. You were so beautiful, reading a mechanics book, with your hair in a messy ponytail, a pencil behind your ear, and your ridiculously dorky and adorable glasses. I knew from that moment that I wanted to be with you forever, and now I have the opportunity to do just that. I promise to love you always and forever, Antonia, will you do me the extraordinary honor of being my wife?" He opened the box to show a silver ring with a medium sized diamond, with small rubies surrounding it.
Ignoring the shocked exclamations of the guests, Antonia responds, her eyes overflowing with tears.
"Yes," she choked out. "Of course I'll –"
But no one finds out what she'll do, as she was cut off with the sound of an explosion and gunfire.
Antonia gets thrown to the ground as people scream and run in all directions like a chicken with its head cut off.
"Antonia!" She hears James yell, panic in his voice.
Choking on the smoke, Antonia coughs, her throat too clogged up to answer.
She stills as a shadow falls over her. Looking up, she expects to see James' face, twisted in relief, and him helping her up, and making a run for it. Instead, she sees a tall man with dark hair, cold eyes, and an evil grin, like the ones you only see in old cartoons.
He grabbed her arm in an iron grip and wrenches her off the ground, but Antonia has actually paid attention to the self-defense classes James made her take, along with karate, and boxing, and jujitsu, and tae kwon do, and judo, and she's smart enough to know that even though she knows all that, this guy is 275 pounds of raw muscle and most likely isn't against knocking her out or injuring her to take her wherever he was told to, cause let's face it, this guy is obviously all brawn and no brains, and she can't win in a fight against him.
She kicks him in the balls with her $300 Jimmy Choos, and head-butted him when he fell to his knees.
She stumbles back, swearing, and runs like a bat out of hell.
"They make it look so easy in the goddamn movies." She cries.
"Antonia!"
She skids to a halt and looks to where the voice of James came from. The scene that she sees makes her blood run cold and her stomach dropped like she was on a goddamn roller coaster.
James is on his knees, one hand on the floor to brace himself, the other on his stomach, which was covered in a suspicious red substance she'd rather not identify. And in front of him was the same guy she kicked in his family jewels, holding a gun.
Without thinking, she launched herself towards them. She slides in between his legs, and jumped up, right in front of the gun, and in between him and her lover.
Grabbing the gun, she points it upward so she wouldn't get shot, and puts pressure on a pressure point on his wrist
He yelped and dropped the gun. She punched him in the nose and then kneed him in the stomach.
Holding the gun to his head, she hisses, sounding like a rabid cat, "Who do you work for?"
In response, the man spits in her face.
Eyes blazing, jaw set, Antonia pulls the trigger.
His lifeless body falls to the ground with a dramatic thump. But Antonia notices nothing other than her lover, who is way too pale for comfort. She kneels next to his body and, trying not to panic, tries to recall the stuff they do in movies when someone gets shot.
Pressure, the voice of reason in her head says. Put pressure on the wound.
"Right," She mutters out loud, and rips off a strip of her dress, not giving a single fuck that it was $700, and uses it to apply pressure to the wound.
"James, stay here, okay? Stay with me. You're not allowed to die. You just promised me forever, and you never break your promises." Her voice is thick with tears, and James stirs.
"That's it. Just stay awake a little while longer. Can you do that for me?"
James' eyes focus on her briefly, and his lips move, but she can't understand the garbled word that come out of his throat.
"Repeat that, sweetie. I didn't catch that." She leans down and sobs overcome her as she hears what he says.
"Lo-love … y-you. Always an-and f-forever."
Later, as the paramedics wheel away James' body, pronounced dead on scene, Antonia is still staring at the spot where he died, clutching the blanket they gave her around her bare shoulders.
A glint under the dust and debris catches her eye. She kneels and shifts the bits of wall to see what it was. Engraved on the inside are three words.
The same three words that will haunt her for the next seven years.
Always and forever.