Order Of The Rose: Episode One The Vision
Order of the Rose: Episode One
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| Order of the Rose |
The Vision
"Kramer, don't forget that I'll need you to drive me to the gala tonight," Azreal said.
"It's on my to-do list, Sir," Kramer said as he turned to leave the drawing room.
"Before you run off, could you grab me a baggie?"
"Of course. What flavor?"
"AB. I'm in the mood for a blend."
"Very good."
Kramer left for the kitchen and retrieved a baggie of AB from the refrigerator. Azreal liked it at exactly 36.8 degrees Celsius.
Kramer placed a double boiler on the stove and slowly brought the baggie up to temperature. Then he carefully snipped one corner and poured about six ounces into a large snifter. After heat-sealing the baggie, he returned the remainder to the refrigerator and carried the snifter into the drawing room.
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| At your service |
Azreal took the glass from the silver tray Kramer held before him.
"Ah, I wonder what secrets this glass contains," he said, watching for some reaction from his stoic butler.
Azreal swirled the viscous liquid and brought the glass close, taking in the aroma.
"South Asian, perhaps?" He took a careful swallow. "No. Farther east. Japanese. Yes, Japanese, I'm sure."
"I couldn't tell you, Sir. The baggies don't have ethnicity written on them. Just type," Kramer said matter-of-factly.
Azreal gave a guttural laugh. "You always know how to set the mood for an evening with your wit."
"I wouldn't know, Sir. I'll meet you in the driveway at 11:30 to take you to the Midnight Gala."
"Make it 11:45. I'd prefer to be fashionably late, as they say."
The Midnight Gala was a large fundraiser that attracted all the pretentious Haves, Haves-More, and Haves-Much-Too-Much, all in an effort to feel good about themselves.
Azreal belonged firmly in the latter category. Even his late parents had admitted he was spoiled, although that hadn't stopped them from enabling him without limit.
Azreal hated appearances like this. He hated galas even more.
But there seemed to be an unwritten rule that if you occupied the stratospheric levels of society, you were required to make at least the occasional appearance at these atrocities.
He joined the Van Klumphs for cocktails at one of the tall standing tables. He had no intention of remaining long enough to take his assigned seat for dinner.
He had known the Van Klumphs all his life. Darren and his twin sister, Darria, were friends, but they were also members of Azreal's little exclusive club: the Vampyric Order of the Rose.
Eight extremely wealthy and extremely bored heirs to fortunes, all of whom had taken up the curious practice of sipping each other's crimson delight.
Truth be known, however, it was mostly disturbing theatre masquerading as foreplay for a monthly orgy.
Small talk wasn't anyone's forte.
Uncomfortable pregnant pauses were the norm, even among friends who knew the most intimate details of one another's lives.
As Azreal surveyed the sorry gala, he noticed her entering the room.
Alone.
Her entrance possessed such complete grace and confidence that she captured the attention of nearly everyone present.
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| Valentina get Azreal's attention |
"Who is that vision?" Azreal asked the Van Klumphs.
"I'm not sure," Darren said.
"That's Valentina Romancewicz," Darria said. "Heiress to a Polish shipping oligarch."
Azreal's attention shifted entirely to Valentina.
She seemed to float from table to table, exchanging pleasantries with the socialites. Every group awaiting her arrival appeared giddy, as though they had just been selected for some exquisite prize.
Every group she left behind seemed full.
Gorged, even.
As though they had indulged in second helpings of a decadent dessert.
Gradually, she made her way toward Azreal's table.
The closer she came, the more he felt it.
That undeniable twinge in a man's nethers alerting him to the arrival of something fantastic.
Azreal noticed Darren wearing the same deer-in-the-headlights expression he had seen on nearly every other man in the room.
Darria waved.
Valentina approached.
"Valentina, this is my brother Darren, and this is Azreal Kalvor."
Azreal offered his hand with a gentleman's bow.
Valentina smiled and took it.
The coldness of her hand startled him momentarily.
"Charmed," he said. Then added, "The warmest of hearts, I'm sure."
"Stone in winter," Valentina replied, her smile betraying the humor in the statement.
"Surely you jest."
"Oh, but the real fun resides in the warming." Her eyes remained on his. "That would take creativity, persistence, and stamina."
"Of those, I have an abundance."
Valentina's gaze dropped briefly.
"Well, your abundance is showing."
Azreal's cheeks turned hot red as he quickly angled himself toward the table, attempting to conceal his embarrassing prominence from the surrounding guests.
Darren and Darria chuckled at his predicament.
Valentina turned calmly toward Darria.
"I'm having dinner at La Provence on Thursday evening. You should join us."
"I'd love to."
"Ladies only, I'm afraid."
Valentina turned to leave, then paused and glanced back.
"It was a pleasure meeting you, Darren. Azreal."
Her eyes settled on him again.
"Oh, and Azreal? Don't worry. It's fine. I'm sure it will be in good hands tonight."
Azreal blushed even harder as she walked away.
But his attention never left her.
If anything, it intensified.
"What an enchanting woman," Azreal said.
The Van Klumphs laughed in unison.
"We could see how enchanted you found her," Darria said, laughing even harder.
Eventually, the evening came to a close and was declared a successful fundraiser.
Azreal met Kramer in the parking lot and rode silently home.
But Azreal's mind was anything but silent.
It could focus on only one thing.
Valentina.
Even later, lying in bed and trying to sleep, Azreal could see nothing but the tall vision she had been crossing that ballroom.
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| Can't sleep |
And she had been right.
His little problem was in good hands.
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