Discovering Clara Pt. 01

It was the engagement party of the year, and champagne hung in the air like golden mist. It seemed that every noteworthy person in Charleston had come to meander about on the terrace of James Goodnight, the fiancé of my great aunt, Carolyn. A comfortable buzz of gossip and storytelling echoed off the marble pillars that trapped guests in their sovereign prison, forced to laugh under twinkling lights and a canopy of trees.

I, however, had tolerated enough small talk from wealthy strangers. I leaned on my elbows against the stone balcony, gazing up at the moon. Why did I even bother to come? Why did I put on this silly black dress, these obnoxious red heels, and get my hopes up about how this evening would go? With a final, admittedly dramatic sigh, I turned around to face the mingling partygoers once again -but all I saw was a pair of crystal eyes.

My breath caught in my throat. Leaning against the sliding glass door was a man in a fitted navy suit, his crisp, white shirt unbuttoned just enough to reveal a protruding collarbone and his bare chest. He stood on the opposite side of the reception, yet he felt far too close for everyday breathing. I swallowed heavily and, realising I hadn't blinked since I turned around, batted my eyelashes a few times. The man winked with a sly smirk, then joined a group near him to exchange pleasantries. I exhaled heavily. Had I been holding my breath the whole time? And more importantly, was he looking... And winking, at me?

Who even was he?

"Clara, dear, so good to see you!"

Here we go again. I turned to face an elderly woman in an overly-sequined shirt.

"Oh, hello-"

Damn, what was her name?

"... Ma'am! Good to see you as well."

You can never go wrong with polite recognition of authority. The conversation dragged on from here, as usual. Yes, college was going great. No, I didn't have a boyfriend. Yes, I think I've grown, too!

But all I could concentrate on was the man whose eyes I could feel burning my skin. He made me feel so... Uneasy. All I could return to him was a few nervous glances, and occasional stunned eye contact. Until finally, with champagne running through my veins, I marched my wobbly legs right up to the back of my mystery man, prepared myself to tap on his muscular shoulder- and then quickly turned back the other direction, shocked and horrified at my brashness.

"Excuse me," a voice growled next to my ear. The very sound was intoxicating, and I knew it had to be him.

"Yes?" I smiled softly as I looked over my shoulder at him. His face was inches away from mine, and I could faintly smell alcohol on his breath.

"I need to get by," he cooed, never blinking or smiling as he held my gaze intensely. My heart skipped a beat. Under the spotlight of his icy-blue eyes, I had never felt so small.

"Oh, I'm sorry," I mumbled as I cleared a path, averting my eyes. What am I doing? I'm studying to be a lawyer, I'm head of the debate team, why am I allowing myself to be his personal floormat?

But he didn't move. Seconds seemed like hours as we stood in silence; me with my head bowed, him towering above me. This was not what I had intended to happen...

"What's your name?" he asked. I could detect a smile in his tone, and moved my gaze back him, feeling suddenly comfortable.

"Clara," I smiled, sarcasm sparkling in my eyes as politely shook his hand. I spoke louder now, to cover the sound of my thundering heart, "And what would your name be, sir?" I was determined to regain some control in this situation

Suddenly his eyes were ablaze, as though I had struck a match in his body, though the rest of him remained collected. A smirk spread across his face, and he answered,

"Pierce."

"Wow, nice name! Your parents were very creative," I laughed, finally releasing his hand. Okay, that was an abnormally long handshake...

"It's genetic," he winked, offering a slight smirk. I covered my mouth as nervous laughter spilled over my lips.

What the hell? Did I just giggle? This is getting ridiculous.

"Come for a walk with me," he commanded, serious once again. I raised an eyebrow.

"This is becoming a little too cliche!" I insisted, laughing, "I feel like I've been transported into a corny romance novel."

"What makes you think those are my intentions, Clara?"

I shrugged, but kept my eyes on him.

He held out his hand. He had insanely large hands. And very long fingers...

"Come," he murmured.

"Yes, sir," I breathed.