(A/N-In honor of Halloween this week, I decided to do a little fic about a Dauntless Ball. I hope you all enjoy!)
Tris Prior was walking towards the copying room when she stopped and heard her boss's daughter Nita Hilker talking with Amber. "Daddy got Four Eaton to come to the Dauntless ball tonight," Nita said.
"That's impressive, he's the most sought after bachelor in all of Chicago," Amber said.
"Four is going to be mine before this night it out," Nita said. Tris had met him at one of the many social functions earlier this year but he had looked right through her.
"But just because he's at the ball doesn't mean he'll pay you any attention," Amber said.
"Oh, yeah?" Nita taunted, "Well, I have a plan. You know how everyone who is invited gets half a bottle rocket? And you know what happens next, now don't you ?"
"Sure," Amber responded suspiciously. "The guy has to find the girl with the other half of his rocket and they dance together, the first and last dances of the night.
"Do you remember Raj? His rocket fit my rocket at last year's ball, and it was so romantic," Nita said.
"Nita, you are such a fool. Of course his rocket fit your rocket. You cheated!"
"It was not cheating," Nita insisted. "I just had to make sure he was all mine all night, that's all."
"But Raj is not coming. He moved to Canada." Amber pointed out innocently.
"Not Raj, you idiot! I'm going to make sure that this year Four Eaton gets the other half of my bottle rocket," Nita clacked wickedly. "So when he comes to the ball, he has no choice. He dances with me, he pays attention to me and he falls in love with me. Hook, line and sinker. And if that doesn't work I'm going to put a little something something in his drink and take him back to my hotel room."
"You can't do that," Amber said.
"Watch me," Nita said.
They kept squabbling, as went on her business. She made her copies of the report that Michael Hilker needed. She had worked here at The Bureau, an advertising firm for the last two years. She had always been treated well by everyone here, she worked as personal assistant for Mr. Hilker. Her best friend also worked here, Christina Candor worked as a personal assistant under Max Anderson.
When she finished, she headed back to her desk. On the way, she ran into Christina.
"Tris, her want to go out for drinks this Friday? Uriah got back in town last night," Christina said.
"Uh sure," Tris said.
"Wow, you don't have to sound so excited," Christina said. "What's up?"
"Nothing," Tris said.
"Liar. You know I always know when you're lying," Christina said.
Just when Tris was about to tell her what she had overheard, Nita bumped into Tris causing her to drop all her papers. "Watch it little girl," Nita said.
"I'm sorry Nita," Tris said as she bent to start picking up the papers.
"What are you looking at?" Nita asked Christina who was giving her such a look.
"Nothing, absolutely nothing," Christina said.
"Then get back to work, both of you," Nita said as she took off walking.
"God, I hate her," Christina said as she helped Tris pick up the papers. "I should go slap her."
"It's not worth it, Christina," Tris said as the two women stood up.
"She still needs to be put in her place, her dad spoils her," Christina said.
Tris looked in the direction where Nita went and back at Christina. "What is that look for?" Christina asked.
"Come with me to the break room," Tris said. The two women took off and Tris started to tell Christina on what she had heard.
"That bitch," Christina said. "She's going to cheat to try to get a Four Eaton. And then drug him if she has to."
"Yeah, it's messed up," Tris said.
"We gotta do something," Christina said.
"What can we do?" Tris asked. "Call the cops?"
"No, I got a better idea," Christina said. "Unfortunately I can't go as my parents are here for the next two nights. But you can go."
"Go? Go where?" Tris asked.
"Get ready Cinderella, you're going to the ball," Christina said.
"The Dauntless Ball? Christina I don't have an invitation," Tris said. "It's impossible to get one now."
"Don't worry, me and Uriah can work on that," Christina said.
"Christina, I don't have a dress," Tris said, trying to talk her out of this.
"Uh hello! I have my own department back home," Christina reminded her.
"Can't argue that," Tris said.
"Great!" Christina said.
"But what am I going to do once I'm there?" Tris asked.
"You're going to charm the boxers off Four Eaton," Christina said. "And I know just how you're going to do that and put Nita in her place finally. Now, come on. We got work to do."
A few hours later, Tris was in the backseat of a taxi on her way to the Dauntless Ball. "This is a terrible idea," Tris told herself. "The worst idea ever." She knew this was terrible, so why was she giggling with glee? It was also dishonest, mean-spirited and downright sneaky, but deep down; Tris was positively in love with the idea. Somehow Christina has managed to sneak into Mr. Hilker's office where the rockets were being held for that night's event and managed to find the one that was destined to fit with Four Eaton's.
"I can't do it," she said again, louder this time "I don't know why I ever thought I could."
"Lady, do you need something?" the taxi driver asked.
"What? No, no I'm fine," Tris answered, as she tried to tell herself she could do this, though truthfully she didn't know if she could or not.
Four Eaton was dying a slow and painful death at the Dauntless Ball. Nursing a stiff drink, he made himself a solemn promise never, ever to let himself get talked into attending any function that you had to wear masks. The place was air conditioned, but still too hot for his taste. He was sweating under the damn mask, and he couldn't stand it. Swearing under his breath, he ripped off his black satin Zorro like mask and thrust it into the pocket of his dinner jacket. These people could pretend to be in costume if they wanted to, but not Four Eaton.
How long did he have to hang around for the sake of politeness before he could legitimately make an exit? Surreptitiously, he checked his watch again. Damn. He'd only been here twenty minutes. He would have to stay at least an hour. So far he had dodged the bullet of having to endure the company of Nita Hilker, but it was only a matter of time before his luck ran out. She was wearing some concoction of sea green satin, with a sort of mermaid's tail skirt. Her half mask was the same bilious green, with fat green and gold plumes erupting from one side. He could barely look at it without wincing.
Although he'd hoped to get away unscathed, in the end, he hadn't had a choice. She'd forced him to play the game and bring out his own rocket. Reluctantly he'd fished the thing out of his pocket and let her try to match her half to his. Thank God it hadn't fit. He was really sweating it there while she pushed and poked; bound and determined his rocket was going to mate with hers.
"It has to go," she grunted, smashing at the two clearly unmatched rocket halves, until her friend Amber came up and shoved her aside.
"If not yours, how about mine?" Amber tossed in, wedging her own rocket piece into the fray.
Frankly, he was appalled by their behavior. They went practically ballistic when neither of their rocket pieces fit with his, screeching at each other about betrayal and double crosses, until Nita's father, that insufferable old coot, finally intervened and pulled them away.
He suspected there was more to that story than he knew, however, given the depth and volume of Nita's reaction when her rocket couldn't be made to match his. As a betting man, he'd wager she'd tried to cheat at the little bottle rocket game, to make sure she'd get him as her partner, and then somehow been outfoxed. So who'd outfoxed her? And why?
Four wandered away from the dance floor, out through French door and onto a terrace. At least he could breathe out here. Taking a long swallow of his Scotch, he gazed aimlessly out at the city. The faint rustle of silky fabric sounded behind him, and his heart sank. Not Nita again, limping along in her mermaid monstrosity. By God, if she'd trapped him out here, he was going to murder the woman.
But as he turned, his breath caught in his throat. This was not Nita. This was...a vision. She was beautiful, so beautiful that she seemed to shimmer as he gazed at her. It must just have been his imagination playing tricks on him, or the dim, romantic cast to things out here in the moonlight, but she honestly looked as if she'd been dusted with tiny sparkles.
Her hair was long and blonde, full and wavy, slipping down over her shoulders, begging to be touched. Four jammed his free hand into his pocket before it got any ideas. But he couldn't look away from this fairy princess who'd just swept into the Dauntless Ball, completely without warning. She gazed at him from behind a black, cat-eyed mask, her eyes looked grey and her dress was black as night. She had lovely, fair skin, and there was a lot of it showing.
He swallowed with difficulty. His hand shook, sloshing the ice in his glass, and as he set it down before he dropped it completely. Good grief. He'd never re-acted like this to a woman before. It was like being sucker-punched in the gut. He couldn't take his eyes off of her dress. The skirt was full and frothy, like a frothy, like a ballerina's, while the bodice was molded to her rib cage and chest. It looked like lingerie, like the things he'd brought for old girlfriends in fancy French boutiques. He couldn't take his eyes off it.
"Who are you?" he asked, cursing the rough catch in his voice, as if he hadn't used it in hours.
Wordlessly she smiled. And she held up half a bottle rocket. His pulse sped up as he found his own piece of the rocket, but there was never any doubt in his mind. It would fit. It had to fit. He noticed that her hand trembled as much as his own as they slid the halves of the rocket together. As easily as that, the two pieces became one, and he knew he'd found the woman he'd been waiting for.
"I think this means you're mine." he murmured and then he pulled her into his arms.
"Oh," she whispered. She was worn to a frazzle, and she'd only just arrived. She was the one who was supposed to be doing the bamboozling and bewitching. She was the one who was supposed to be making the moves. She'd envisioned a cat-and-mouse game, a few flirtatious glances, perhaps, and maybe a dance or two in the full light of the ballroom. It was supposed to be just enough to keep him interested and away from Nita for his own good.
Under the onslaught of his rapt gaze, she felt sure he now knew everything from the number of tiny pearls attached to her bodice to the brand of expensive perfume she wore. Since the top of her gown was only a bustier, leaving a great deal of skin exposed, he was getting an eyeful of her measurements, too.
There were only inches separating them now, and she had no choice but to stare into his crystal blue eyes. His eyes were a striking color, and they contrasted sharply with his thick, dark lashes. His hard arms circles her waist, holding her fast. As much as she tried, she couldn't blocked out the feel of his big handsome body all around her. Then again he was so incredibly hot that she wondered if she even want to. The man felt like a furnace. She could hardly breathe!
She manufactured what she hoped was a sultry smile, and then slipped gently from his arms. She had to get far enough away to get some perspective. Fanning her face with her worthless little evening bag, she saw the flicker of warmth in his eyes, and she knew she wasn't out of the woods yet.
Careful to pitch her voice deeper and huskier than usual, she said, "I think we'd better go inside."
"Why?" he murmured. He raised a finger to trace the curve of her jaw, and she shivered before she could stop it. "Why spoil it?"
Getting desperate, Tris searched for a throaty laugh. Didn't enchanting strangers always have throaty laughs? "Don't you want to join the party?"
"I'm perfectly happy with the party we're having right here." He made a move to trap her again, but she saw it coming and side trapped him neatly. Trying to look graceful, she backed farther away, until she was hovering near the French doors.
"Things are moving a little too quickly for me, I don't want to go too fast, Mr. Eaton," she breathed.
"How do you know who I am?"
This time her smile was genuine. "Everyone knows who you are."
"But who are you?"
She had no intention of answering. After all, being a mystery woman was much more intriguing than any regular old person with a name. If she'd come as herself, or even invented a name, Four Eaton would've been interested for about five seconds. He was a mover and a shaker, a financial wizard, who'd played with all the best toys the world had to offer.
"Tell me who you are," he commanded, advancing on her. The hot sparks in his eyes intensified, and he reached out for her. Tris could tell by the resolute set to his chiseled jaw that this time he wasn't going to take no for an answer.
She backed a few steps father away, opening her mouth to say something, anything to hold him off, but before the words were out, the French door behind her burst open, and Nita blasted through.
"The party's inside, Four, honey," Nita cooed, pursing her lips in a coy pout. "What are you doing out here all alone?"
"I'm not alone," he returned coldly. His gaze shot straight to Tris.
Nita's head whipped around, taking in her rival for the first time. She peered into the shadows, where Tris was trying to remain calm. The last thing she needed was to sweat under her mask, and dissolve all of her makeup and reveal her true identity.
Nita's eyes narrowed, and Tris stiffened, but there was no subsequent spark of recognition.
"Who is she?" Nita growled.
"Why, Nita, you invited me. Don't you recognize me?" she whispered, making her words deep and slow and very torchy.
Nita ignored her, squeezing up closer to Four and grabbing his lapels. "Listen, Four," she said in a rush. "Whoever she is, it doesn't matter, because you and I were fated to be together tonight. What do you say we try our rockets together again? We wouldn't want to waste-" she pressed one green-shadowed lid down in a meaningful wink, lowering her voice to a breathy whisper "what could be a night you'll never forget.
Detaching her fingers from his jacket, he said plainly," Sorry Nita, but my rocket's already been claimed."
And then he held up his half of the puzzle, turning to Tris. Once again, she picked up her cue. She slid her piece right up next to his. A perfect fit.
Nit's face flushed as scarlet as her hair. "But how?" she sputtered. "Somebody cheated!"
Four offered Tris his arm, indicating that she was the one he'd be spending his evening with. Together they slipped past Nita and swept back into the ballroom.
Tris couldn't resist a small satisfied smile. Imagine Tris Prior, sailing along on the arm of the high and mighty Prince of Takeovers, while Nita sputtered and moaned behind them. Who would ever have imagined that?
Four had never been a man who scrutinized his own emotions. Hell, he'd never thought he had any. But he did have instincts. And right now, every instinct he had told him this was the woman for him.
"Excuse me," she whispered, in that same husky voice that sent a trail of electric shocks down his spine. "I'm feeling somewhat...parched."
He loved the way her pretty red lips pursed so delicately when she spoke. He found himself staring at her mouth, as awkward as a schoolboy, wondering what she'd do if he kissed her, hard and deep, the way he was dying to. Quickly he looked into her eyes instead. "Would you like something to drink?"
"Yes, please," she murmured. "A glass of champagne."
"My pleasure." And then, before he could stop himself, he brought her hand to his lips and pressed a soft kiss into her palm. She trembled, and he loved the feeling that his slightest touch seemed to undo her. "Don't go away," he told her, and she smiled her assent.
As he backed away, reluctant to leave, he kept his gaze fixed on her. She was glancing lightly around the room, watching the other dancers, but not talking to anyone, anyone he might have been able to interrogate to find out who she was, or what this was all about.
Even separated from him by ten feet, and then twenty, she was still sending out some sort of siren's call, daring him to run back and grab her, to kiss her senseless, until he had satisfied the maddening, gut-deep ache he'd been feeling every since he'd laid eyes on her. If he didn't know better, he might have suspected this was love at first sight.
"Outrageous," he muttered under his breath. Love at first sight was for idiots, for poets and actors and other deluded types like that. Anybody who knew him would've laughed at the idea that Wall Street's most ruthless raider could fall prey to that kind of nonsense.
"Have you danced with my little girl yet?" Michael Hilker asked as he came up to Four.
"I've found my time being occupied," Four answered. "You wouldn't happen to know who that is, would you Michael?"
"You better believe I know every single soul invited to my parties," Michael declared, preening with his big-shot status. "Which girl you talking about?"
"The one in black, over there, by the pillar," Four answered.
Michael looked her over for a minute, squinted, cocked his head and then squinted again. "Skinny little thing. No, I don't believe I've ever seen her before. Must be a party-crasher. I'll have her thrown out of here in two shakes."
"Leave her alone," Four returned dangerously.
Michael shook his head. "I don't believe in entertaining any uninvited little tramps who show up at my door."
Four's hands closed into fists, and he had to work hard to keep himself from going for the other man's throat. "She had an invitation," he said coldly. "And she had the other half of my rocket."
Why he felt the need to jump to her defense, to punch Michael in the gut for even thinking of sending her away, was beyond him, but standing there, allowing him to call her a 'tramp', annoyed the hell out of him. For some reason, this lady's particular combination of delicate beauty and ethereal charm was bringing out the Sir Galahad side of him. Who'd ever have guessed? Not only did he have a heart, but when it came to maligned mystery women, he had a major clink in his armor.
"Maybe she's somebody's niece or out-of-town relative," Michael said. "Maybe she's somebody my girl knows, a sorority sister or something, who got herself a nose job and a little of that liposuction stuff. Those girls do that, you know. But she's nobody I recognize, I'll tell you that."
"Too bad." But he wasn't daunted. Before this night was over, Four swore he'd know the name of his mystery woman. Four made his way back to where his lady stood.
"Dance with me?" Four said. He made it sound like a demand not a question. Before she knew it she was in his arms on the dance floor.
She was waltzing. She didn't know how to waltz, but it didn't seem to matter. Whirling along in his strong arms, she felt as if she could have given Ginger Rogers a run for her money. She wasn't wobbling on her high heels, she hadn't broken so much as a nail. The mighty Prince of Takeovers himself was completely fooled by her crazy masquerade.
Wrapped in each other's arms, they'd been dancing for hours, just swaying to the music under the glittering light from one intricate chandelier and a few well placed candelabras. Four's fingers were gently entwined in her hair, barely brushing the soft, sensitive skin on the back of her neck. All she could think of was that skin under his hand. All she could do was press closer, breathe deeper, give herself up to the music and the night and the man.
Their steps were so closely interlocked now that it was impossible to move without grazing his hard thighs. He pulled her into a turn, and her skirt swirled around her in a cloud of taffeta. The hand at her back urged her nearer, drawing her so close that his body imprinted itself on hers. She could feel the warm, hard length of him, top to bottom.
She could feel his heartbeat, as erratic as her own, and smell the fragrance of her own perfume, mixed tantalizingly with Four's scent. He smelled like the forest after a fresh rain. When his fingers traced the back, dancing over her bare skin, she let out a little moan before she could stop herself.
"Don't do this to me," he said huskily, bending to skim his lips over the pulse point behind her ear.
"Who's doing what to whom?" she asked in a shaky voice, molding herself to him as his hot, hungry mouth etched a trail of fire down the slope of her shoulder. His mouth felt wonderful. She felt like ice cream, left out in the full summer sun, until it was one oozy, stick puddle.
"Please," she whispered, but she didn't know if she was begging him to go on, or begging him to stop.
Mischief and desire flamed in his clear blue eyes. He leaned in, close enough to puff his hot breath against her cheek. "Your voice...It does something to me. It tempts me. It makes me want things I shouldn't have. Do you know what I'm saying?"
Did she ever. His gaze, his hands, the single fact of his existence did all that to her and more. Unwilling to lose herself completely in the spell, she squeezed her eyes shut. She hadn't meant to drive him crazy. Or maybe she had. Even her voice had gone haywire. She couldn't seem to make it come out any other way anymore.
"Four," she began. "I didn't mean..I didn't know.." She stopped awkwardly, trying to figure out what she wanted. She felt hot color rush to her cheeks. "Four, we can't do this. Not here."
"I don't care anymore," he returned roughly. And before she could protest, he turned and walked them back outside onto the balcony.
"Wait," she tried to say, but he cut off her words, lowering his lips to hers and kissing her with a mix of arrogance and passion she had no hope of denying.
It wasn't fair. He tasted like Scotch. He tasted like something so wild and sexy that it was against the law. He tasted unique, like Four himself, equal parts devastating charm and incredible nerve. His mouth was hot and wet, demanding more from her than it was safe to give. But she found her arms twisting themselves around his neck, pulling his mouth closer and deeper, and she found herself lifting into the kiss, asking for more.
He tore himself away, breathing heavily, brushing kisses along the line of her chin, nibbling her ear, mumbling soft words she couldn't quite catch. They were both a little shaky, more than a little out of control, and before she knew it, her cat-eyed mask had tipped to one side. Hastily she yanked it back into place over her eyes, petrified that he would see the real her and dump her out of his arms in shock.
Opening her eyes, she saw stars framing his dark head, twinkling about them in the black night. The air itself seemed heavier, steamier, pushing her into his embrace. Was she fainting? Was she dreaming?
"Only a few more minutes till midnight," he reminded her. He nipped her earlobe between his even white teeth. "You'll have to take it off then, mystery lady."
"T-take it off?"
"Mmm-hmm." His lips curved in a rakish grin that took her breath away. "And if you don't, I'll take it off for you."
She had been such an idiot. She should have left long before this, while she still had a chance to make an easy getaway, before she was trapped on the veranda in the damn man's arms. But now his arms held her fast. He closed in to launch another sensual assault, brushing the edge of the mask with his lips, whispering, "Why don't you take it off now?"
But she was saved from answering, saved by a sudden blitz of firecrackers. Over their heads, a shower of brilliant red sparks lit up the sky. It was followed by a tremendous, earth-shattering boom, and they both flinched, startled by the unexpected noise.
All of a sudden a whole bunch of people had crowded out onto the balcony to get a better view, jostling her and Four. A man in the crowd shouted, "Hey, it's midnight! Take off your mask and kiss me quick, somebody!"
Four just stood there, staring at her expectantly, a half smile playing over his narrow lips. Tris knew her moment of crisis was at hand. She raised a hand, fingering the beaded curve over her cheek. If she revealed who she was, what would he do?
In her heart, she was still plain Tris Prior. Inside she was still the gawky girl who was always on the outside looking in when it came to being special or beautiful or desirable. She felt that if he saw the real woman under the mask, this romantic interlude would come to a screeching halt. There would be no more gentle kisses, no more smoky glances, just plain old horror on Four's face when he realized whom he'd been romancing.
Her pulse pounding, her heart breaking, Tris raised her chin. This princess wasn't going to let her prince see her turn back into a pumpkin. "I'm sorry," she told him. "I just can't"
And before he could stop her, she wrenched away from his arms. Surprised was on her side. By the time he realized what she meant to do, she was already halfway across the ballroom.
"Wait!" he called out after her. She could hear the frustration and anger in his voice. "Wait, damnit! I don't even know your name."
But Tris kept going. He didn't know her name, and that was exactly the way she wanted it.