Chapter 2 Damien Is Watching Me

Damien Ravenclaw's mansion was truly breathtaking. As I entered with the dance troupe, I couldn't help but feel awestruck.

"Wow, look at that huge stage they've set up just for our performance! Is he some kind of royalty?" whispered someone in the troupe.

As the dancers chatted quietly about Damien, I learned he had a background quite different from mine. He had graduated from Stanford, his father was a math professor at the university, and his mother taught humanities. Known for his exceptional skills in numbers since childhood, Damien swiftly rose to become a renowned senior trader in the finance world. People now hailed him as the undefeated Wall Street legend.

Damien was indeed a remarkable billionaire, veiled in mystery.

In the month leading up to the banquet, I dedicated myself to rehearsals with the troupe. We were gearing up for a performance of "Swan Lake," a beloved ballet classic. The troupe leader had entrusted me with the challenging dual roles of the White Swan and the Black Swan, a task typically reserved for lead dancers. I pushed myself through daily ballet practice to rise to this challenge.

As I took my place on the stage, arms raised and poised on my toes, I was greeted with gasps of admiration. The struggles of my everyday life seemed to melt away, allowing me to transform into a graceful swan. With my head held high and neck elongated, I embodied the elegance of a real swan.

Pirouette, spin, leap—I lost myself in the role of Odette, the princess cursed to become a swan by the evil sorcerer Rothbart.

"Wow! Now I see why you were invited! Allison, you're absolutely captivating on stage!" remarked one of the dancers during a quick costume change, eyes filled with envy. "All eyes are on you; you're stealing the show!"

Their words filled me with joy. Despite the challenges of juggling part-time jobs, my ballet prowess hadn't waned.

After the costume change, I returned to the stage, ready to perform the Black Swan's 32 fouettés. Taking a deep breath, I knew this was the most demanding segment of the dance, but I was confident in my ability to execute it flawlessly.

Soft cheers emanated from the audience. Although they seemed more interested in mingling with the influential guests than in the performance, I gradually captured their attention. Even my dance partner, who had been practicing with me for a month, began to regard me with growing admiration.

As the performance drew to a close, I sensed an unfamiliar gaze fixed upon me. Looking up, I noticed a man observing the stage while conversing with those around him. A crowd had formed around him, all wearing eager smiles and seeking his approval.

As I began to remove my makeup in the dressing room, my dance partner approached me. His name escaped my memory. "Allison, we've been working together for a month now. Would you like to grab a meal sometime?" he asked.

"Sorry, I'm already in a relationship," I politely declined.

Undeterred, he persisted in asking for my contact details. Just then, a commotion at the entrance caught everyone's attention. A man entered, holding a bouquet of red roses. The other dancers watched on curiously, anticipation evident in their eyes.

Receiving flowers after a performance was a customary gesture of appreciation, and this time, the bouquet was intended for me. The card carried the name of the event host, Damien Ravenclaw, written in elegant handwriting.

"Ms. Claire, my apologies for the interruption. These flowers are a gift from Mr. Ravenclaw. He was truly impressed by your performance and would like to meet you," said Damien's assistant.

With the arrival of the flowers, my persistent dance partner finally retreated, though his disappointment was apparent. I raised an eyebrow and declined the invitation for a second time. "No, I'm quite busy at the moment."

The troupe leader, positioned behind the assistant, made a pleading gesture, silently urging me to handle the situation more delicately.

"I... uh, have family matters to attend to. Maybe another time," I replied, attempting to provide a softer refusal.

"I understand, but Mr. Ravenclaw has expressed a keen interest in meeting you," the assistant insisted.

"It would only be a brief interaction. I'm sure Allison can spare a few minutes," the troupe leader interjected, taking the roses from the assistant and presenting them to me.

"I'll throw in an extra 5,000 dollars. Also, I'll consider you for future shows if you agree to meet Mr. Ravenclaw and make sure he has a good impression of our troupe," the troupe leader offered. "Come on, Allison. You need money, and we need to ensure Mr. Ravenclaw likes us. It's a win-win situation." He pleaded earnestly, his desperation evident on his face.

"Well, I guess I can spare some time to meet Mr. Ravenclaw," I agreed. 'Who can resist 5,000 dollars, after all?' I thought.

Before long, the assistant escorted me to the banquet host. Damien decided to have our meeting in a charming garden gazebo surrounded by vibrant flowers—an idyllic setting. Despite my expectation of an older, wealthy gentleman, Damien appeared remarkably young, maybe around thirty.

He was attractive, with deep blue eyes that seemed almost enchanting. His athletic build was evident through his suit, showing his strength whenever he moved. As I approached, Damien stepped forward, reaching out to shake my hand.

He exuded a refined air, akin to a prince. Taking my hand, he planted a gentle kiss on it before guiding me to a table and pulling out a chair.

Damien's compliments were delightful, and his manner was both charming and witty. "Your performance was truly exquisite, like a graceful swan. Everyone, myself included, was entranced by you. Can I address you as Allison, Ms. Claire?"

"Of course, feel free to," I replied.

Damien's gaze never seemed to leave me as he conversed—a habit of his, perhaps. Yet, under the gaze of such a charismatic and enigmatic man, it was enough to make anyone blush.

I found myself blushing as well, which elicited a warm chuckle from Damien. His smile made his eyes twinkle, resembling a starry night sky.

As I realized the lateness of the hour, I remembered that my boyfriend, Alex, had promised to pick me up. He must have been waiting outside the mansion by now.

I informed Damien that I needed to leave.

"I'm so glad we had this chance to talk. Even after our conversation, I still find you enchanting," Damien expressed, a hint of regret in his voice as my departure loomed. With a gentle motion, he retrieved a business card from his pocket and handed it to me. "Even though you declined my offer to go out, I'm not giving up that easily."

Drawing closer, his breath warm against my face, he seemed to be aiming for a farewell kiss.

Slightly taken aback, I stepped back and politely declined. "I'm sorry, but I already have a boyfriend."

"That's a shame. Seems like I missed my chance," Damien remarked, a tinge of disappointment in his tone. Though he didn't retract the card, he placed it in my hand. "Being late doesn't mean it's all over. Maybe someday you'll realize who your Mr. Right is." His gaze held resolute determination.

Exiting the mansion, I spotted Alex waiting outside, standing patiently like a loyal companion. Recalling the photo he had sent me a month earlier, I approached him with a playful grin. "Hey, my lucky puppy."

His eyes lit up at the nickname, though he feigned a touch of sadness upon hearing my words. "But you said you wanted a kiss from your boyfriend first."

Amused, I took his hand and encircled it around my waist, then wrapped my arms around his shoulders. "Well then, why aren't you kissing me?"

Blushing, he lowered his head, and we shared a tender kiss outside the mansion. As we finally parted, breathless and gazing longingly at each other, Alex seemed eager for more.

I teasingly nipped at his lip and flashed a smile. Just as we were about to leave, I glanced up and noticed Damien watching us from a distance.