summon a modicum of composure, and then—slowly, deliberately—stepped toward the car. The leather seats gleamed in the sunlight, the soft interior smelling faintly of leather and something distinctly him. My fingers grazed the door handle, and I felt an odd jolt, a mixture of nerves and excitement, shoot up my arm.
He tilted his head, watching me with that infuriatingly patient smile that suggested he knew exactly what I was thinking. "Careful," he said, voice low, teasing. "You might… slip."
I scowled at him, narrowing my eyes. "I am perfectly capable of opening a car door," I muttered, trying to ignore the tiny tremor in my hands.
With a little more force than necessary, I pushed the door open, wincing at the click it made against the frame. I swung myself into the passenger seat, immediately conscious of how close we were. The subtle warmth radiating from his side made my skin prickle. My heart started its own impatient rhythm.
He laughed softly—a deep, low sound that settled against my ribs like a pleasant vibration—and started the engine. The car hummed to life, the purr of the engine vibrating through my feet. I gripped the edges of the seat, suddenly aware of the entire world outside, yet oddly conscious of him beside me.
"Where are we going, exactly?" I asked again, trying to sound composed, though my voice was unsteady.
"Somewhere you'll enjoy," he replied cryptically. He glanced at me, and there was a flicker in his eyes—a challenge, almost daring me to guess.
I wanted to protest, to demand specifics, but a small, uncharacteristic thrill bubbled in my chest. This—this spontaneity, this breaking of rules—was completely unlike him. I'd always known the Duke to be impeccable, untouchable, predictable. And yet here he was, flipping the script entirely, offering me a side of him that was thrilling and dangerous, like a storm contained in a tailored suit.
The car rolled forward smoothly, and my gaze flitted to the passing scenery—the city streets bustling with life, the sunlight glinting off polished windows and pavement. I could feel the subtle shift in our dynamic already: it was intimate, daring, shared. Sitting here, side by side, no barriers of chauffeurs or propriety between us, I realized I was seeing him in a way I hadn't before—and it was disorienting.
I glanced at his hands on the wheel, long fingers flexing with effortless control. There was an ease to him, a quiet confidence that made me both frustrated and fascinated. My mind was racing with questions, and yet… I didn't dare speak them. I wasn't sure if I wanted to break the spell.
Minutes passed in near silence, punctuated only by the soft hum of the engine. My nerves slowly settled, replaced by a growing awareness of us in this small, moving bubble of steel and leather. I stole another glance at him, this time closer to curiosity than anxiety.
"Do you do this often?" I asked, voice lower than intended.
"Drive?" he said with a faint smirk, eyes never leaving the road. "Not really. But I like to keep certain skills sharp."
I wanted to tease him, to tell him how thoroughly unexpected—and disarming—this was, but I caught myself. There was something different in the way he was looking at the road, the subtle set of his jaw. It wasn't arrogance, not entirely—it was focus, a quiet intensity that drew me in against my better judgment.
And then, as if to punctuate the moment, he accelerated slightly, the car responding like a living thing beneath him. I gripped the seat instinctively, a mixture of thrill and exasperation coursing through me.
My thoughts tumbled over themselves: This is absurd. Sitting beside him is ridiculous. He's the Duke, I'm… me. And yet… it's not uncomfortable. It's… almost pleasant. Dangerous, yes, but pleasant.
I leaned back, letting the wind lift the ribbon from my hat across my shoulder, and for the first time all day, I allowed myself a small, unguarded smile.
The drive had begun—not just the literal journey through the city, but the subtle, thrilling, unpredictable journey between us. And somehow, against every instinct I had, I knew it would be far from ordinary.
Jamie's small hands clutched the strap of her bag even tighter, and I could see the mix of awe and nervousness in her eyes. It reminded me sharply of myself at that age—full of hope, yet cautious of the adults who seemed larger than life.
"It's very brave of you to come out here on your own," I said softly, kneeling slightly to meet her gaze. "And you practiced until late last night? That shows a lot of dedication."
She glanced quickly at the Duke, then back at me, her lips parting as if she wanted to say something but wasn't quite sure how. "Y-yes, Lady Serena… I… I want to be a ballerina, just like the others," she stammered. "I mean… I want to—" Her words stumbled and faded, and she pressed the strap of her bag to her chest nervously.
"You're going to be a wonderful ballerina," I said with genuine warmth, placing a gentle hand on her shoulder. "You have that spark that can't be taught. Keep working hard, and don't let anything stop you."
Jamie's eyes widened, a mixture of pride and disbelief shining through. "R-really?" she whispered.
"Really," I confirmed. "I… I know what it's like to dream and then be told it's impossible. But if you keep going, who knows? Maybe one day you'll achieve everything you've imagined—and more." My voice caught slightly at the memory of my own dashed childhood dreams. I forced a breath, steadying myself before it became too emotional.
The Duke shifted beside me, his presence a quiet, grounding force. He bent slightly, keeping his tone casual but kind. "And you'll have someone watching over you, making sure your efforts are recognized. I hear reports about each student—your hard work doesn't go unnoticed."
Jamie's jaw dropped slightly, eyes flicking to him as though she were seeing a different side of the formidable man she had only ever heard about in passing. "Y-you… watch us?" she asked, incredulously.
He inclined his head, a small, serious nod. "Of course. If you want to grow, you need someone paying attention. Someone who knows your strengths and your potential."
I stole a glance at him, my heart softening a little at the care he showed, hidden beneath that usual veneer of control and authority. There was an almost paternal warmth there—something I hadn't expected from someone so intimidating.
Jamie's face lit up, a bright, joyous smile that made her entire small frame seem to glow. "I… I'll do my best, I promise!" she declared, puffing out her chest slightly as if trying to appear braver than she felt.
"That's all anyone can ask of you," I said, rising back to my full height and smoothing the front of my dress. "And remember, it's okay to stumble along the way. Even the best dancers fall sometimes. It's how you get back up that matters."
Jamie nodded earnestly, hugging her bag to her chest once more. She glanced one last time at the Duke, then at me, before scurrying off down the corridor, her ponytail bouncing with every step.
Once she was gone, the hallway seemed suddenly quieter, and I felt a tug in my chest—a mixture of nostalgia and a strange, protective fondness. I turned toward the Duke, noticing how he had observed the entire encounter with a quiet, inscrutable expression.
"You… seem to know a lot about the students," I remarked, curious despite myself.
"I make it a point," he replied simply, his voice carrying that same calm authority. "If we want the academy to thrive, we can't just invest money. We need to invest attention, too."
I nodded, feeling a strange respect mingled with an unexpected warmth. There was more to him than the cold, untouchable public image, more than the Duke everyone feared. Beneath it all, there was a man capable of quiet care, of noticing things others overlooked.
And perhaps, I realized with a flicker of surprise, that this—this glimpse of the past, these small, fleeting moments of life and hope—was exactly what I had been missing.
Jamie's eyes went wide as saucers when Eiser acknowledged her. She gave a small, involuntary GASP. "Y-you know who I am?"
Eiser stepped slightly forward, his expression calm but his dark eyes quietly observing every flicker of her excitement. I spoke before he could respond, my voice soft and encouraging.
"Of course," I told her, smiling. "I've read the reports on our sponsored students… and you are one of the most talented. Your name came up often."
The Director's chest swelled with pride. "Yes! Jamie, I hear you always excel in competitions. You even won the spring competition, didn't you?"
Jamie's reaction was pure, unadulterated delight. Her eyes seemed ready to pop from her head, and her face flushed a bright, rosy red. In an internal speech bubble, I could almost hear her thoughts screaming: OH MY GOD! SHE REALLY KNOWS WHO I AM!
"I-I… yes, that's right," she stammered, twisting her hands together nervously.
Her small fists clenched with determination, and adrenaline lent her voice a passionate edge. "I-I'll work even harder… to become the greatest ballerina in the kingdom!" she declared, her enthusiasm nearly shaking the bag in her hands.
She looked from Eiser to me, then back to me again, her eyes sparkling with admiration. "And… I want to grow up to be just like you, Serena!"
The words struck me like a physical shock. Grow up to be… just like me…
A lump formed in my throat. I was not the ballerina she idealized. I had chosen the hotel, the family duty, over the dance. My hands tightened slightly around my skirt, but I kept my expression serene, though my eyes reflected the complex emotions swirling inside.
Before I could respond, the Director gasped and gently pulled Jamie aside. "Jamie, you shouldn't address Lady Serena in such a familiar manner!"
Jamie's eyes widened in mortification. "ACK! I-I'm sorry! I spoke without thinking!"
I quickly stepped forward, placing a reassuring hand near hers, though not touching. Eiser, meanwhile, remained quiet, his dark gaze fixed on us with that familiar intensity, studying the child's reactions as if cataloging them for some private assessment.
"It's all right, Jamie," I said softly, trying to ease her embarrassment. "You may call me Serena."
Her small frame visibly relaxed, and awe returned to her expression. Then, with a sudden burst of energy, she dropped to her knees and began RUMMAGING through her little bag.
"THANK YOU! OH!" she cried, triumphantly pulling out a small, neatly folded handkerchief.
It was a cheerful blue square, patterned with tiny red strawberries and delicate daisies, clearly handmade, perhaps cross-stitched by her own hands. The way she held it—like it were a jewel—made my chest tighten with warmth.
"Th-this is my most prized possession…" she whispered, her hands trembling slightly. "I want you to have it! It's my gift to you."
I accepted the gift carefully, letting my fingers brush over the coarse, earnest threads. It was small, yet it carried more sincerity than many grand gestures I had received over the years.
"Oh my! How lovely. Thank you," I murmured, genuinely touched.
Eiser, for his part, had taken a step closer, his dark eyes briefly studying the handkerchief in my hands, and then Jamie herself. There was no overt smile, yet the quiet acknowledgment in his gaze—subtle, almost imperceptible—made it clear he appreciated the girl's effort.
An adorable gift from an adorable student. That was what made this moment real. Not the meticulous tour of the academy, not Eiser's commanding presence, but this small, tangible symbol of pure admiration from a young girl reaching for her dreams.
And for a fleeting moment, I allowed myself to imagine what it might have felt like to receive such a gesture as a child… a connection bridging past and present, aspiration and reality, in the tiniest, sweetest form.
I carefully folded Jamie's little handkerchief, still marveling at the tiny strawberries stitched with such care. "OH MY! How lovely. Thank you," I murmured again, almost to myself.
An adorable gift from an adorable girl… It wasn't just the craftsmanship that warmed me—it was the thought behind it. I loved cute things, sure, but this was different. It carried sincerity, hope, and a little piece of her heart. More precious than any diamond necklace I'd ever received.
Jamie, suddenly aware of the watchful eyes of Eiser and the Director, turned fiery red. "Then I'll be g-going! GOODBYE!!!" And just like that, she bolted, leaving behind the faint scent of nervous energy and an echo of her excitement. I couldn't help but feel a twinge of embarrassment for the little girl, though it was endearing.
The Director chuckled heartily. "Jamie knows she's being sponsored by the Serenity family and has always dreamed of meeting you, Lady Serena. She'll be bragging about today to every single one of her friends!"
I smiled softly. The Director added with a warmth that tugged at my chest, "Also, I think she felt a special connection when she learned you studied ballet here as well."
That memory, one that had often been a quiet ache in my chest, now felt lighter—transformed into a shared bond with this little girl. I felt a genuine lift in my mood, a rare, comforting lightness.
After a few more minutes of polite conversation with the Director, Eiser and I stepped out, leaving the Academy behind. The sun filtered through the trees lining the paved path, dappled golden light falling across the ground. The air smelled faintly of spring and grass, mingled with the lingering scent of polished wood from inside the building.
I turned the small handkerchief over in my hand unconsciously, smoothing it against my palm. Eiser's deep voice broke the quiet, cutting through the gentle rustle of leaves.
"You like that handkerchief that much?" he asked, his tone calm, almost teasing. "You're still carrying it in your hand."
I glanced down at the tiny strawberry pattern, then back up at him, and found I couldn't hide my truth. "Of course," I said softly. "This is a more precious treasure than any gem." I held it a little tighter, feeling the lingering warmth and joy from the small encounter.
Honestly… the past few days had been heavy. The pressure of managing the business, the unending political intricacies, and the constant weight of responsibility had left me weary. I had even wished to stay home, hidden from the world for a while. But agreeing to join Eiser today had turned out to be unexpectedly restorative.
He had guided me, quietly, to a place of youthful aspiration and genuine dreams, far from the rigid structure of politics and commerce. That simple act, that subtle change in scenery, had reminded me of what it felt like to hope without calculation. Perhaps he had intended it that way all along.
Eiser, with his careful planning and surprising insights, had gifted me something far beyond the day itself. For the first time
My heart skipped a beat at the feel of his fingers closing around mine. I froze, a mix of shock, disbelief, and a tiny, unbidden thrill flooding through me.
"We… what?" I whispered, my voice barely audible, as if speaking louder might shatter the moment.
Eiser's grip was firm but gentle, perfectly balanced between authority and care. His eyes held mine, dark and unreadable, yet there was an unmistakable softness there that made my chest tighten.
"Consider it an extension of the plan," he said calmly, his thumb brushing lightly over the back of my hand. "A preliminary measure, if you will. To ensure compliance with… the objectives of today."
I blinked, trying to process both his words and the audacity of the gesture. My cheeks flamed, hot enough that I could feel the warmth crawling up my neck. Internally, I scrambled to rationalize. This is still business. He said it's work. Hands, connections… symbolic, professional, strategic… right?
But the thrum of my pulse told a different story.
The park around us was quiet now, the earlier chatter of birds reduced to occasional chirps. The sunlight streamed in golden streaks through the canopy, falling on our hands in soft, intimate light. I could feel the tension of the day—the responsibilities, the politics, the weight of expectation—slip away just slightly. Just for a moment.
I swallowed hard, finally daring to meet his gaze fully. "Eiser… are you… really treating this as work?" My voice trembled slightly, betraying the mixture of curiosity and nervousness I was trying to hide.
He tilted his head slightly, that faint, knowing smile returning. "Everything we do today is work, Serena. Even this." His thumb traced a small, deliberate line across my knuckles, grounding me in a way that felt both bold and impossibly intimate.
My mind spun. Work? Holding hands? Walking through a park? These were the sorts of moments people usually shared with family, friends… or someone far closer. Not with someone like him. And yet, here we were, and my hand was warm, firm, and undeniably his.
I drew in a shaky breath, feeling the absurdity of it all. I'm behaving like a schoolgirl in the presence of a man who could command an entire kingdom… and yet I'm… not pulling away.
Eiser's voice broke my spiraling thoughts again, calm, measured, unshakable. "This will be useful. Remember every detail, Serena. Every conversation, every gesture. They will all serve their purpose when the time comes."
"Yes," I murmured, though I knew my mind was wandering elsewhere. Every strategic word he spoke contrasted so sharply with the intimate pressure of his hand around mine. It made my heartbeat erratic, uncomfortably fast.
He didn't let go, even as we approached the edge of the park where the path widened and the hum of the city began to drift in. Instead, he adjusted his pace, perfectly matching mine, as if the subtle act of holding hands were a natural, expected rhythm.
I bit my lip, trying not to overthink, trying not to let the flush of warmth and the tiny spark of something far more personal betray me.
And yet, deep down, I knew that this—this simple, quiet act of connection—had shifted something irreversibly. Work or not, Eiser had claimed a fragment of my attention, and I couldn't pretend it was purely strategic.
"…we've already held hands," he murmured again, a hint of satisfaction threading through the otherwise neutral tone.
I looked down at our intertwined fingers, and for the first time all day, I allowed myself to believe that maybe, just maybe, there was more to this than work.
The words hung in the air, heavy and electric. My chest tightened, a strange mix of relief and lingering indignation twisting together. I could feel the tension that had coiled in me for years—the need to always appear perfect, unflinching, untouchable—softening, thread by thread.
I blinked, trying to process the unexpected tenderness in his gaze. "You… you weren't mocking me," I said quietly, my voice barely above a whisper. It was as if speaking the truth aloud might shatter the fragile, precarious space we had entered.
"Mocking you?" Eiser repeated, eyebrows slightly raised, though the edges of his mouth softened. "No. That would be foolish. You don't need ridicule to reveal yourself. You need understanding. And that—" He gestured subtly, as if encompassing both of us, "—is precisely what I am offering."
I let out a shaky breath, feeling a lump in my throat. My hands curled slightly, gripping the edges of my gloves, not entirely ready to let go of my defenses, but also unwilling to retreat. For the first time, someone saw past the polished, strategic exterior I presented to the world. And instead of exposing me, he acknowledged me.
"You…" I began, my voice faltering. "You see everything about me. And yet… you don't… exploit it."
He tilted his head slightly, dark eyes meeting mine. "Because I don't need to. Strength is admirable, yes. But hiding weakness out of fear? That accomplishes nothing. You've carried so much on your