Twisted-Games

BRIDGET
“MIGHT I SAY, YOU LOOK ABSOLUTELY BEAUTIFUL TONIGHT, YOUR
Highness,” Edwin, the Count of Falser, said as he guided me across the dance
floor.
“Thank you. You look quite handsome yourself.” With his sandy-colored
hair and athletic build, Edwin wasn’t hard on the eyes, but I couldn’t summon
much enthusiasm beyond my bland compliment.
After weeks of frenzied planning, the night of my big ball was finally
here, and I couldn’t be more underwhelmed. My dance partners had all been
duds so far, and I hadn’t had a chance to so much as breathe since I arrived.
It’d been dance after dance, small talk after small talk. I hadn’t eaten
anything other than the two strawberries I snuck from the dessert table
between dances, and my heels felt like razor blades strapped to my feet.
Edwin puffed out his chest. “I do put a lot of effort into my appearance,”
he said in a poor attempt at a humble tone. “Athenberg’s top tailor
customized my tuxedo, and Eirik—recently named by Vogue as Europe’s top
hairstylist—comes to my house every two weeks for maintenance. I also built
a new gym in my house. Maybe you’ll see it one day.” He shot me a cocky
smile. “I don’t want to brag, but I believe it’ll match anything you have in the
palace. Top-of-the-line cardio machines, DISKUS dumbbell sets made of
Grade 303 non-reactive stainless steel…”
My eyes glazed over. Dear God. I would rather listen to my last dance
partner analyze Athenberg’s traffic patterns during rush hour.
My dance with Edwin thankfully ended before he could expound further
on his gym equipment, and I soon found myself in the arms of my next suitor.
“So.” I smiled gaily at Alfred, the son of the Earl of Tremark. He was a