Bloodbound: The Alliance
Chapter 95 - 97

Chapter 95: Chapter 97

Kelsey POV

I have seen the pictures of Avara during her overseas outreach programs. Digital photographs of her sunken in cheeks from not eating enough, arm-in-arm with other volunteers. Some even with the foreigners they were helping, along with their children. Despite the arid or wind-beaten conditions that would wear down most. Avara’s smile alone would illuminate the picture, brightening the dull frame of the captured moment.

And now, there she stands, wrapped in artistry, her custom-designed florid dress. Her hair, polished to a hyper-gloss perfection, is swept into a pristine chignon, each strand seemingly placed with purpose. Her features, delicately enhanced by masterful strokes of makeup that radiate sophistication. Yet, beneath the surface, her glow is muted, her inner light dimmed to a faint flicker, struggling against the opulence encasing her. Her smile, though perfectly poised, carries a quiet hollowness, a silent plea cloaked in grandeur.

The first photo shoot begins—a romantic tableau featuring her and Landen. No matter how closely they pose or how the photographer commands chemistry, Avara’s demeanor betrays her. She looks less like a bride in bliss and more like a hostage present against her will. The entire crew transitions to the lush gardens outside, where the grounds form an intricate backdrop that can rival any renaissance masterpiece.

A family shoot follows, a staged vision of nobility brought to life, with the Du Ponts and Vacherons elegantly arranged. From my angle near the lavish buffet table, snacking as I watch the performance unfold, the pretense heavy in the air. Soon, the director calls for a Du Pont-only shot. Luciano and Silas flank their sister, their camaraderie breaking the carefully curated formality. They kneel, gripping one leg each, and hoist her skyward, perching her atop like a queen on a throne of their shoulders.

For the first time, Avara’s smile transforms. It is no longer a practiced expression but something raw and unguarded, her laughter spilling into the air like the sunlight that gives a sheen upon every surface. I smile at the sight of her joy and that is punctuated at the weight of a stare my periphery cannot bear. I sneak a glance to see that it’s Colton’s father, staring at me with meaningful intention, and I offer a silent prayer that he won’t approach, but of course that’s exactly what he does.

He shuffles over, and I brace myself, tinkering with a smile as I channel my inner Avara.

"Beautiful day for a beautiful shoot," I comment, gesturing to the professional setup.

"Will your hair be like that on the day of the wedding?"

My smile vanishes as a dark churn begins in my gut. "Like what?" I ask slowly, my voice perilously too low.

"I simply do not want to give my guests the wrong idea."

A sharp pulse of rage propels me forward, but a steady hand anchors me, firm and grounding, a silent plea to stay my course.

"And what wrong idea would that be?" Vance drawls, his voice smooth with calculated provocation. "That a divine black goddess might deign to bless us mortals with her presence? Yes—absolutely wrong. For we are woefully undeserving." He pivots toward me with a disarming smile, his eyes grazing over me like a painter admiring a masterpiece. "And that hair," he continues, his tone dipping into reverence, "those glorious, endless curls—they should never be straightened. Don’t you agree, grandfather?"

Muzzled, he mutters indignantly, "I suppose the most beautiful creatures cannot be tamed," he says before he shuffles away.

My eyes swing over to Vance with an affronted look, and he raises an apologetic hand.

"I’m sorry that he’s—"

"Racist?"

"His last wife was actually black."

"Should I clap?" I snap back.

His face bursts open with a rich laugh as he shakes his head. "Of course not. He’s not as bad as he seems. He’s just... conservative. Controlling."

Still simmering, I look away, my expression caught in the knot of a scowl that won’t relent.

"There are many high-profile designers here today," Vance says, hinting at an offer. "Some of them being Étienne Rousseau who admires your work."

An excited scream escapes me and I have to clap my hands over my mouth for a few seconds. Entertained, Vance watches me with a grin as I almost begin jumping in my heels as the exhilarating energy rebounds inside me with barely any release.

"Étienne Rousseau!" A muffled echo as I scream their name in my hands.

I free my mouth as I shake my hands out. "Okay, yeah—wait, but how did they see my designs—how did you?"

"Are you kidding? I sent them your portfolio after I visited your boutique and I saw pieces I liked. You know, before I stormed off."

"Oh, I remember that tantrum," I say with a cheeky flick of my brow.

He snaps out a dry laugh, "Says the girl that smashed my gift on the floor."

"You were being a dick. Better the vase then your face."

"And so I made amends, not out of guilt," he clarifies in a critical tone.

My eyes explode wide from the sudden realization. "The investor for my fashion show... that was you? Why?"

"Because you’re talented and what a waste, it would be if the world didn’t get the chance to see that in its full glory."

Tears burn behind my eyes, and I look up quickly, fanning my face with my hand. "I can’t believe you, of all people, are about to make me cry."

"Isn’t this sweet?" Landen declares as he strolls towards us with a flute of champagne in his hand. "You two getting along. It seems Avara was wrong. There seems to be one Vacheron you do like."

"Tolerate," I amend. "The same cannot be said for you."

He gasps exaggeratedly and places a wounded hand on his chest. A sharp shriek whirls me around, but it’s just Avara and her brothers meandering towards us. Silas slants close to whisper something and Avara erupts into laugher, falling against him as Silas joins her chorus with his arm slung over her shoulders. Whereas Luciano has his eyes locked on a particular selection on the table. I turn back around and I glance at Landen’s expression with something unreadable flickering across his face as his expression warps into twisted interest, his smile beguiling as he takes a few curious steps closer to them.

"It’s the best feeling, isn’t?" Landen exclaims, yanking everyone’s attention. "Being close with your siblings?"

A frown tightens Avara’s expression but Landen’s eyes are fixed on Silas as he responds with an apathetic bob of his brows, sparing him a scornful glance before he whispers something only in range for the Du Ponts as Luciano stifles a snort at what Silas says and Avara laughs again, this time condescending which wipes the smile off Landen’s face, a nameless emotion sharpening his features into quiet hostility.

"But I’ve never seen a brother and sister so close," Landen adds in blatant provocation. "Maybe too close for comfort."

Silas pauses, stiffening as he turns with a shadow of chaos cast over his face.

Vance snatches the flute from his hand before he sets it aside. "Clearly you’ve been drinking too much."

"What was that, Vacheron?" Silas questions.

Sensing the fight flaring through him, Avara takes a gentle hold of his elbow. It stops Silas but not Landen as he begins to close the distance dangerously.

"It just means you look at her the way I do—like you want to fuck her."

Rage rips through him, launching a blow at his jaw that whips his face to the side. Landen recovers swiftly and repays him with a punch to his gut that doubles him over. But from that crouched position, he drives forward fast with the force to have Landen half over his shoulder before he slams him down on the buffet table that caves in beneath him as plates smash to the floor as I dart away to dodge the spray of shards and flying food. Luciano grabs Silas and pulls him back as Landen just lays there in the mess, laughing maniacally with appetizers strewn over his Armani suit.

Vance goes over to heave him back to his feet.

"Always taking good care of me," Landen says with a dreamy smile.

"I’m going to get him cleaned up. Tell them I say the shoot is over," Vance states with the commanding tone of Colton.

They recede out of sight, and I look back at Silas, who gives a careless shrug.

"Don’t stare at me like he didn’t deserve it. You heard what the fuck he said."

"He was goading you," Luciana drags out with an exasperated exhale.

"It worked," Silas says, struggling against a smile.

Uncle AL soon descends with the director of the camera crew, conversing as he lapses into silence at the sight of the culinary catastrophe of a split table surrounded by the wreckage and wastage of broken plateware and food scattered on the ground.

"What the hell happened here?" Alden demands. "And where is Landen?"

"Shoot is over," Luciano relays with a curt voice and he doesn’t question it.

"For the best," Alden allows. "Big day tomorrow. Avara, baby, I think it’s time we have a daddy and daughter shot before I get one with my boys."

Avara masks her discontent with a dim smile as she sends me an emphatic look and I respond with a reassuring smile.

The once best father and daughter duo walk off together, each unaware of the secrets held against the other. My eyes dart to Silas as he comes over to my side to reel me in by my waist. And Luciano drapes his arm around my shoulders comfortably.

"You know this could’ve been you," Silas remarks with a wistful smile. "I remember just at thirteen years old, I proposed to you—a candy ring, but more than what you ever got from the scums you’ve dated."

"Marrying my best friend’s brother sounded complicated even then," I say as I drop my head against Luciano’s shoulder, tilting my face so I can glance back at Silas. "Besides, I don’t like hot heads."

Silas pulls away from me to glare back at us both. "Again, did you not hear what he said?"

"Don’t worry," Luciano says with an easy smile, "by tomorrow night. We’ll never have to see a Vacheron again."