Chapter 27: Draven’s Provocative Actions
Meredith.
I hated that I had to be standing when Draven casually strolled into my room like he owned the floor beneath his feet. And of course, he did.
His shoulder-length black hair looked freshly washed, glistening faintly under the chandelier’s amber glow. Shampooed.
I didn’t know why that annoyed me, but it did. Long hair on men always seemed impractical to me. All that swaying and brushing past shoulders—it irritated me.
Madame Beatrice and the rest of the servants bowed as he entered, each movement crisp and precise, just like they were trained.
Draven’s Beta, Jeffery, stood just behind him, head dipped in acknowledgment but still sharp-eyed, alert.
I remained still. I had no intention of bowing or curtseying to him. Not tonight.
But then Madame Beatrice’s subtle gaze found me. That cold, expectant look. I felt the pressure of it like an invisible hand on my back. Reluctantly, I dipped into a brief curtsey. I said nothing, though. I could feel Draven’s gaze resting on me, heavy as stone.
When I lifted my head, he was still staring—his expression unreadable, eyes like glass. Silent. Watching.
Then, without a word, he looked away and moved past me.
But then, a scoff slipped from my lips before I could stop it, and he stopped in his steps.