A Wild Party

They're setting foot inside a newfound dangerous ground. Both of them remain still, wordless, motionless, with Astrid's fingers still encircled tightly around Acashia's wrist. They didn't bother to look or care nor listen when a woman from the back screamed for everyone to run for there's a murderer on the lose. Astrid simply continued to hold her ground, not giving a damn if her heart was running fast as if she had been running.

It feels as if her eyes were wide open and everything was dark…

In short, it feels as if they're walking with a spotlight focusing and following them, illuminating this moment, with the warmth of each other's body through that little bit of physical contact.

It's been years since she and Matthew's mother have stared at each other's eyes. It's been a long time since they're heard each other's voice and now… At this very moment… Time seems to relapse and some memories of warm kisses and tight hugs flashes in Astrid's mind through an endless series of mental pictures.

She isn't uncomfortable, now she is displeased or pissed.

The feeling is entirely different from the basics of thrilling scenes in sequences in a romantic movie. Inside those films the lead character can just yank her hand away from her lover, and leave to be gone without a single trace left, but in this situation it's highly unlikely. The feeling, the confusion and the continuous questions of whys inside her head immobilizes her from doing so, stopping her from thinking this through, freezing her body from initializing the first move by not walking away with this mess.

Still she continues to stand tall amidst everything, from anything…

Her lips remain clamped together, sealed and folded between her teeth. She can feel her toes curling behind her designer shoes, then she realizes that the people around them had finally stopped whispering. Finally stopped talking to each other in a rushed conversation.

Then reality bursts into her, slapping her face hard when she sees the judgmental eyes of Genevieve Cullin.

"How have you been these past five years, Astrid, my dear?" She said to the woman in front of her, and yet it was loud enough for everyone to hear.

A loud exhale of exasperation reaches Genevieve Cullin's ears, and then she looks at her son, Matthew, with his eyes looking straight forward at young Acashia's ocean blue eyes.

"…I've been doing well, can't you see?"

Genevieve can feel the arrogance in the latter's tone, and with that, she wrapped her fingers around Astrid's wrist and dragged her close.

Astrid reciprocates Genevieve's stare eventually, meeting the older woman's stare with the same intensity in her eyes. It was a battle between the two female known for their claws and paws. But when Genevieve felt she was in the spotlight for too long, her fingers slowly relaxed from Astrid's wrist until it fell back on her sides.

"Sorry…" Genevieve insinuated, voice all hindered and silent by the confusion in Matthew's expression.

She does not regret making a scene in front of everyone because of this woman. She doesn't regret the fact that she left her husband alone, which can lead to the depression of their initiated plan for today.

She regrets nothing… Well… nothing but the fact that she didn't figure out what to say next. Especially now that Matthew is looking at her that way.

What's the next step? What will be the next action after making an unnecessary scene when the woman beside her son is already stealing the spotlight in a bad way? Will her son be angry or dismayed? Will she try to act baffled instead?

What?

What's next?

That's a big question that she didn't realize nor thought about before letting her anger and resentment take control. And now, she's utterly close to being speechless.

"Mother…" Matthew starts; the single word which escapes from his lips is full of many questions to be answered. For some questions will be released, and some will remain unasked and unanswered. "Why did you… have to cause a scene?"

Matthew paced towards them, and his eyes were locked furiously at his mother, Genevieve, as if drilling through the latter's whole being with her eyes.

"It's grandfather's birthday…" Matthew said dryly with a sly smile curling up on both corners of his lips. "Can you try to act decent?" He continues, mockery implies on every word that escapes from his lips, and in the end sentence a wry sigh was dragged slowly from his nonsense murmurs.

"I'm sorry, my son. It won't happen again." Genevieve admitted and expressed her deepest apologies for her granddaughter's sake. The little girl was as shocked as everyone else. And since Acashia is her only granddaughter, she doesn't want to get into Matthew's bad side. If she did, even if Matthew is her son — the latter would make sure that she won't be able to see her granddaughter in a while.

Wanting to fix things before it gets out of hand, Genevieve turned to Astrid with a smile and said, "Blaire Cynclaire is invited to the party. You can mingle with her as well…" She paused and chuckled. "You were acquainted with her before… right?"

Afterwards, Genevieve set her eyes on Acashia, giving a soft smile to the little girl. "Baby, come. Give your grandma a hug!"

Acashia obediently stretched out her little hand, giggling when her grandmother picked her up. She skillfully removed the pearl necklace around her neck and placed it above her granddaughter's neck, letting it nestle against her pink dress.

"Mom, don't spoil her too much." Matthew warned. "You're too indulgent."

Genevieve frowned. "You can't tell me what to do…" She retorted. "I'll give my granddaughter whatever it is that I want to give her."

While Matthew and Genevieve were butting heads, Astrid decided to not give a damn about the 'Cullins' and simply go on her way. Whether it's their icy stare. Their over the head personalities and the worst of all… they see themselves as gods of the Earth. She slowly approached the self-service bar on the side. The high heels made her movement more inconvenient.

In less than a few minutes, Astrid heard someone screaming from a distance. She turned and looked where that voice was coming from. And when she looked, it was some woman wearing a red knee-length, tight fitting —bodycon dress and her temperament was just as hot and flaming — having a dramatic flare to it. Not only that but she was wearing ten-centimeter gradient red high heels, adding the finishing touch to her devilish look.

A huff escaped Astrid's cherry lips. "Blaire Cynclaire..." She said to herself. "I knew it."

Why was she even surprised to see that woman here? Blaire Cynclaire Rose. The eldest daughter of the Rose family and the heiress of their Billion dollar fortune. When she was still part of the world of fashion, earthly desires and the Hollywood limelight, she and the famous daughter of the Rose's had crossed paths a couple of times.

Upon talking to her, observing the latter's movements. How she speaks and how she carries herself, Astrid Starling deemed Blaire Cynclaire Rose as a dazzling creature.

She would gladly steal the spotlight, even if it was the president of the United States who was talking.

As she heard their cackles and restrained laughter on the other side of the ballroom, Astrid simply wanted to disappear and keep herself out of anyone's line of sight. Not that she doesn't want to talk to anybody. She simply wanted peace for once.

That encounter with Genevieve proved and showed to everyone that she's not welcome here.

Plus, if Blaire Cynclaire sensed or saw even a piece of her hair — or even caught her breathing, the brunette would seriously cause some scene.

Astrid raised her hand, "Waiter!" She called, and smiled when the man wearing a white shirt under a black vest looked at her with a smile. His hair was styled like a gentleman. And with those deep gray eyes, he could be mistaken as a young and up and coming model for Calvin Clein.

"What will you have, my lady?" The slick voice of the bartender as well as his smooth tongue made Astrid sneer.

"Singleton Dufftown. I prefer whiskey, aged for 18 years perhaps?"

The bartender nodded and hummed in approval. "On the rocks?"

"You know it."

The bartender winked. "Good choice. I'll be right back."

It did not take long for the good looking bartender to serve her order. The strong whiskey was served in a crystal bohemian rock glass, accompanied with a decent amount of ice that's shaped into a circle.

"Call me if you need something else?"

Instead of answering, Astrid raised her glass and nodded to the waiter.

However, just when she's about to enjoy the strong drink — she heard a familiar voice coming from behind her. The woman's voice was as sweet as caramel as alluring as a jazz singer's voice.

Astrid Starling knows that presence even though she hadn't seen her in a long time. It's none other than Blaire Cynclaire.