A Damsel In Distress

Chapter Two.

She had no more tears to shed.

The heavy downpour judging from its tempo would persist throughout the night, and possibly, stretch until the next day.

The chillness of the incessant winds, and the unhealthiness of staying in such weather for a lengthy period, didn't matter to her.

Nothing else at that point in her life was going to bother Tessa.

Her life as she knew it was over — there was nothing else worth fighting for, and the sole thing she desired so badly was to rid her soul of this hurt.

The aches circulating throughout would unendingly remain so until something else replaced it.

Dragging her feet under the rain, her thoroughly drenched self spotted the only building with an open door.

Rays of light were emanating from it and squinting her almond-shaped eyes intensely read the content scribbled on the wooden plank plastered above it.

“A… Pub?” Those plump lips of hers were cold, and pale — just like her body.

Tessa's complexion reflected how overly cold she was.

The bartender, a middle-aged man, could be seen cleaning through the glass cups, and then placing them on the shelf. 

Since it was raining, countless thug-looking individuals were present — the venomous stench of cigarettes filled the place.

The frail wooden doors of the pub were pushed apart, and a soaked Tessa strolled in.

Despite the wetness of her body, her beauty couldn't be ignored, and the perverted ones among the thugs found themselves grinning.

Tessa played obliviousness to the lewd glances sent her way — she wasn't even alive enough to return their looks.

“A… bottle of tequila please.” Her sweet voice came out shaky as she settled on a high stool, disregarding the uncountable drops of water sliding from her body. 

The bartender began contemplating hard. 

Was this beautiful young lady okay? And was it even advisable to give her alcohol?

“Sir?” Tessa uttered lowly again, and still feeling skeptical, he brought out a bottle and glass and then attempted to pour a potion for her.

However, Tessa was swift enough to snatch the bottle from his grip and, like an alcoholic starved of it for years, undid the cover and then gulped down a large content of it directly from the bottle.

“Miss!” The bartender was dumbfounded while the perverts already eye-raping her grinned.

“She's going to get drunk in a minute. Then we strike!”

★

“Master Doreen, do forgive me, but the rain is getting heavier. Shall I find a hotel for the night to be spent?”

The voice reeked of professionalism — it belonged to the personal chauffeur of Doreen Williams.

The tinted window glasses of the Bugatti Chiron were rolled up and as the unceasing balls of rain slammed on it, it was quite hard for any seated in the back to hear.

The chauffeur stole a glance at his Master Doreen from the rear view mirror and found out he was highly intrigued in watching a video on his phone.

The 6 '5 ft tall, jet black hair, otherworldly emerald green-eyed, and dead drop gorgeous gentleman seated elegantly in the back seat wasn't a phone addict. 

Despite his jaw-dropping riches, he barely touched any devices that weren't related to wealth making, but for the past few days, Doreen became oddly interested in his costly phone.

“The famous masked ballet, ‘Angel’ what happened to her?” Such a husky and undeniably attractive voice belonged to none other than Doreen and as he questioned his chauffeur without even gazing at him, he curled his lips.

Oh? His master has become smitten by videos of the Gracious Angel.

Yes — playing on Doreen's phone screen was a video of a ballet dancer. Her moves, steps, body flow, and rhythmic twirls could captivate even the apathetic.

None, and absolutely no one, not even the blind, would be able to turn away from her whenever she began dancing.

The Gracious Angel — that was her name.

It was derived from the fact that everything, and anything, about her, screamed out graciousness.

Even her face, which was barely visible since she always wore a mask, was goddamn pulchritudinous.

Anything and everything sane wanted to glimpse at the ballet dancer — even if it was just once in a lifetime.

However, her fame, although lingering, diminished when she… disappeared.

“Sincerely Master Doreen, I and definitely like most others are oblivious of what happened to the Gracious Angel. She vanished from the face of the planet, apparently — without a single trace."

Doreen remained fixated on her video — there was something so utterly ethereal about her.

“Her birthmark is… charming.” In an inaudible whisper, he spoke then caressed the screen. 

Particularly, he brushed his finger against a spot on her curved waist.

She has a birthmark, yet that wasn't enough information to find out where she is.

“Master Doreen about stopping the car,” The chauffeur's voice came again since the wind and rain were getting dangerous to drive in.

Wordlessly, Doreen glanced to his left and beheld a rather unsightly mini-building.

“I need a drink.”