012 Failed Attempt

Dahlia's POV

When I enter the dining room he is already in the most honorable seat. In front of him, the fine silvers line neatly, and he sits there with his elbow on the arm of the chair, two fingers supporting his temple. He is reading a file in his hand.

Elegant. That must be the first word that pops into anyone's head when they see this man.

I'm in a strapless black dress, his favorite style. On my wrist, I warp a strap cut out of the 2.5 million dollar piece to cover the bruise.

He puts down the file when I stop at his side, his eyes land on the red bow on my wrist, waiting.

"I'm sorry for ruining the dress," I start with the tamest opening I came up with after an hour-long drafting.

I have come to accept my fate in the three-hour-long bath this afternoon.

He is not the best choice for a mate. In fact, he just might be the worst. But he IS my mate, and there is no way to change that. That, and the fact that I'm left all alone in the world with no one to help me, and no chance to