Evelyn Giles needed no introduction - one of the three heiresses to the Giles family fortune, she was often assumed to be snobbish and spoiled. But that couldn't have been further from the truth. She was intelligent, kind, and well-mannered, known by all at her exclusive boarding school in a secluded part of North Wales. Life had always been generous to her, providing everything she needed and wanted. Until one fateful winter break.
"Absolutely not!" Her voice echoed through the grand halls of the Giles estate as she stormed through her father's office. "I'm sixteen, for Christ's sake! I'm supposed to be preparing for sixth form next September!"
Reginald Giles, ever the composed and authoritative figure, remained seated behind his mahogany desk, unfazed by his daughter's outburst. He merely folded his hands and regarded her with an impassive stare. "Evelyn, dear, we both knew you wouldn't be staying in education," he said smoothly, "this has always been the plan - you attend private school, and when you turn sixteen, you marry Charles Petrova," he spoke with little to no emotion, as though explaining his actions would make her agree, "it was arranged at your birth."
His office was just as cold as he was, sending a shiver into anyone that entered - large bookcases full of different topics lined the walls with the large window from floor to ceiling overlooking the manor's gardens as the sun slowly began to set, setting an unnerving darkness through the room.
And yet Evelyn didn't seem affected, she stood with her fists clenched, her feet planted firmly in the ground. "The Petrova family are monsters!" she snapped, her blood boiling, "is that really the life you want for me? To be shackled to a criminal?!"
Reginald's sharp gaze bore into her, though his demeanor remained eerily calm. He leaned forward slightly. "Control yourself," he said, his voice laced with quiet menace, "the Petrovas are our most valuable allies," he pointed out, "this arrangement is your duty as an heiress."
"I never wanted to be an heiress!" Her voice wavered, but her conviction remained strong as she paced the floor, not daring to look at him, "it's my life," Evelyn lifted her head, mirroring her father's burning gaze, "I should get to choose who I marry!"
Her father finally rose, towering over her with an air of quiet intimidation. The tension in the room thickened. Evelyn refused to back down, meeting his stare with a defiance that shimmered in her emerald eyes. Then, without warning, a sharp slap rang through the room. She gasped, her cheek burning as she cradled the fresh welt. Tears pricked at her vision, but she refused to let them fall.
Reginald straightened his jacket with an air of finality, "put on a good face," he instructed, his words just as sharp as the slap she had received, "we have guests arriving."
Evelyn swallowed hard, her spirit momentarily crushed.
"Yes, Father," she murmured before turning on her heel and leaving his office, slamming the door behind her.
Once inside her bedroom, she pressed her back against the door, exhaling shakily.
Her eyes landed on the plain satin dress hanging neatly on her wardrobe door, its matching shoes lined up beneath it. She curled up on the floor, wrapping her arms around herself as silent sobs racked her body.
To her father, women were nothing more than objects, pawns in a game of power. And here she was, set to be sacrificed for the sake of a business deal.
A sharp knock at the door pulled her from her thoughts. She hurriedly wiped her face, straightened her posture, and cleared her throat. "Come in."
The door creaked open, and three maids entered. They were young, in their twenties, and of Canis descent - half-bloods, as her father called them, only deemed worthy to serve. But Evelyn had always treated them with kindness.
"Lady Giles," one of them curtsied. "Shall we help you get ready?"
Evelyn nodded and took a seat at her vanity. The handprint on her cheek was still visible, her eyes red and puffy, yet the maids said nothing. They worked in silence, gently fixing her makeup, curling her golden hair to perfection, and helping her into the silk dress and heels. When she finally caught her reflection in the full-length mirror, she looked exquisite - but the ache in her chest remained.
"Charles Petrova is a lucky man," one of the older maids commented. "He will surely adore you," she felt her hands shake as they spoke, "but… be careful, my lady. I hear he keeps unpleasant company."
The other two shuddered.
Evelyn waved a dismissive hand. "Please… I'd rather not discuss this right now."
The maids bowed their heads and left her to her thoughts.
By the time the gathering commenced, the estate was alive with music and chatter. Evelyn stood at the edge of the dance floor, observing the guests. She had always enjoyed watching people - deciphering their secrets from the way they moved, the way they spoke.
Her father approached with a man trailing behind him. He was tall, two years older than her, with long brown hair and the darkest eyes she had ever seen. Evelyn swallowed hard.
"Evelyn, dear, this is-"
"- Charles Petrova," she interrupted, curtsying. "Evelyn-"
"- Giles," he finished, amusement flickering in his gaze.
Her lips twitched as she suppressed a small giggle. As her father stepped away, Charles took a step closer, his towering height casting a shadow over her petite frame.
"You're just as beautiful as I remember," he murmured, taking her hand and brushing a kiss over her knuckles.
A soft blush crept onto her cheeks. Across the room, her father watched like a hawk, ensuring she behaved accordingly.
However, she paid him no mind; with Charles, things felt… easy. He asked questions, listened intently, and made her laugh - a rich, genuine laugh that she hadn't realized she still had in her.
For the first time that night, she allowed herself to imagine it - to truly see herself marrying him. Perhaps not out of obligation, but out of something else entirely.
Charles studied her, captivated by the way her laughter rang through the air. He admired her wit, her fire. The idea that she would soon be his filled him with satisfaction. Together, they could build an empire - one laced with power, skill, and the most dangerous criminals in the world.
"So I hear you weren't pleased about our arrangement," he remarked, his Russian accent giving his words a certain sharpness.
Evelyn hesitated. "Perhaps… I was, at first," she admitted, keeping her gaze locked on his, "but now I see how wrong I was to assume that a man of your nature isn't charming and courteous."
"A man of my nature?" he mused, tilting his head.
She coughed lightly. "I apologize," she said, her tone sincere yet measured, "I simply heard… rumors about you and your family. It was unfair of me to judge."
Charles chuckled, dark and amused. "You're adorable when you're apologetic," he said, "you speak so freely, as if you don't care who you're addressing. That takes a lot - especially when dealing with a known crime family."
She gave him a small nod in understanding, she was well aware of the Petrova family and their misdeeds as she called them, she wasn't one to care usually, not considering the type of work her father undertook for so long. Evelyn simply smiled at him, "perhaps so," she replied with her usual cheery tone, "I just see no point in a lack of honesty, how would one build a relationship?"
The corners of Charles's mouth turned upwards into that charming smile, he lifted her chin slightly, "shall we take a stroll?" He suggested, Evelyn met his burning gaze once more, her emerald eyes remaining bright and almost pertaining to the innocence she had.
Evelyn eventually nodded and pulled away, he offered his arm and she linked hers through as they stepped out of the crowded ballroom.
The music drifted faintly behind them as the night air kissed her skin. She stood at the top of the stone steps that overlooked the gardens, his jacket draped over her shoulders, his hands resting gently at her waist.
A riot of colour surrounded them, the sound of a fountain echoing as it stood firm with a stone statue of some distant relatives. It was the one place in which peace existed, a place of tranquility and calm much unlike the manor itself, it was always crowded with people whether it be the Giles family themselves or the staff that worked for them.
The blonde heiress extended her hand, gazing at the diamond ring on her finger as it shimmered in the moonlight. "Such a beautiful ring."
The thought of marrying a total stranger had brought so much unrest to Evelyn's life, the idea that she'd be nothing more than a toy for the man who wished for her - she remembered those years ago when she had met Charles Petrova, a rather large boy whose presence would shake any man and yet here he was, holding her under the moonlight, showing affection to his betrothed.
Charles pressed a slow kiss against her neck, sending shivers down her spine. "Not as beautiful as the woman wearing it."