Chapter 9. The Ball

9. The Ball 

Third Person's POV

A sharp knock broke the reverie. When Ximara opened the door, a hotel staffer stood there holding two sleek boxes tied with ribbons—definitely more than the single dress Lara had mentioned.

“For Ms. Adler,” he said quickly, already turning away before she could ask anything.

Confused, Ximara hauled the boxes inside and texted Lara right away.Hey, two boxes just arrived. Is that right? I remember you mentioning a single dress.

Lara responded almost instantly.Two? That’s strange. Stephan only ordered one. Let me check with him.

Curiosity got the better of her, and Ximara opened the first box. Inside lay a deep blue gown, it was beautiful, elegant and flowing, with a small card tucked on top: From Stephan & Lara: wear this if you like.

The second box held a striking red dress, vivid and daring, the fabric practically glowing. This one had no note. Her phone buzzed again.

It was shop error maybe, Stephan only ordered one. Lara texted. They sent an extra. Keep both and pick your favorite!

Ximara set her phone aside and lifted the red dress. The silk slid coolly through her fingers. When she tried it on, the color transformed her into a bold, confident, and alive personality. The blue dress had a completely different presence. It was calm, refined, and commanding. She snapped photos of both and sent them to Lara.

As she carefully folded the blue gown back into its box. Her chest tightened. She lifted the dress again and spotted a white envelope hidden beneath the tissue paper. No name or markings.

Her hands shook as she opened it.

I know you’re going to look incredible in this one, any dress will look good on you.

That was it. A familiar chill crept down her spine. This one? Which dress did that mean? The blue? The red? The uncertainty made her skin prickle.

She forced herself to take a steady breath, tucked the envelope into her bag, and tried hard to dismiss it.

Maybe it was a mistake. Maybe it belonged to someone else entirely, some hopeless romantic with terrible timing. And with a week to go before the ball, surely someone would claim it if it belongs to them and she would return it.

For now, she had work to focus on.

The days that followed blurred together in a rush of designs. Ximara buried herself in finalizing the dressing rooms and meeting with racers, refining layouts, perfecting every last detail.

When ball week finally arrived, she submitted everything to Stephan and Lara.

“Wow,” Lara breathed, scrolling through her tablet.

Even Stephan smiled. “You’re impressively efficient, Ximara. Most of this is already done. Unless something unexpected comes up, you’re free until we need final tweaks.”

Relief mixed with restlessness in her chest. “I’m glad it’s done early,” she said with a small shrug, “but I might go a little crazy without something to work on.”

Lara laughed, bright and sincere. “You’ve got something special, you know. We see a lot of designers come through here, but you stand out. You are talented, polished, and driven. Enjoy the break. You earned it.”

“Thank you,” Ximara said, smiling. “I really mean it. I’m lucky to be learning from you.”

At Rowan, everyone knew how selective Stephan and Lara were. She could practically feel the envy radiating from a few colleagues—even from halfway across the world—and she didn’t mind. If anything, it fueled her.

She left the office feeling lighter than she had all week. And with no new letters appearing in the days since she landed in Argentina, she allowed herself to believe that maybe the stalker had finally disappeared and had left her alone.

But instead of feeling relieved, she felt odd, like she had lost important piece from her life.

She’d hoped to see Arthur more, but his schedule was relentless, swallowed by training and practice. She respected his space, choosing to lose herself in work rather than throwing herself at him.

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Back in her room, exhaustion finally settled into her bones. But with it came relief.

She kicked off her shoes, let herself fall onto the bed, and stared at the ceiling for a moment before reaching for her phone.

Alister answered on the first ring. “Mara!” he asked. “Have you been busy this whole time to ring me once?”

“Hey, Ali,” she said softly, a tired smile curving her lips. “Yeah. Just wiped out. How are you?”

“Fine. Missin’ you, though. How’s Argentina treatin’ you?”

She stretched out across the bed. “Busy week. I wrapped up all the designs. Stephan and Lara loved them, they called me efficient and even gave me some time off.”

A low chuckle came through the line. “I am proud of you, girl. I knew you’d shine. They treatin’ you right?”

“They are,” she said honestly. “Stephan’s strict but fair. Lara’s… she’s wonderful. They even said I’ve got charm and talent.”

“Well damn right you do,” he said without hesitation. “You’re building something big, Mara. Don’t let anybody take that from you.” She knew where or whom he was hinting to.

Her throat tightened. “Thanks, Ali. I miss you. I’ve been so busy I barely called.”

“You’re doin’ what you need to do,” he said gently. “I’m always here.”

“I love you,” she whispered.

“Love you too. Now get some rest.”

She ended the call and let the phone fall to her chest.

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As evening settled in, hunger finally pulled Ximara from the room, and she found herself in the hotel resturant.

She slid into a corner booth and ordered fettuccine, the rich aroma easing in her chest. With each bite, the weight of the day loosened.

She was halfway through her meal when footsteps stopped beside her table.

Arthur slid into the booth across from her with effortless ease, a grin lighting his face which she could see even in the dim glow.

“Hey, Ximara,” he said in a warm and casual way, as if this were the most natural thing in the world. “Mind if I steal a minute?”

“Not at all,” she replied, setting her fork down, her pulse quickening despite herself. “It’s good to see you. Feels like forever.”

“Practice has been brutal,” he said, leaning back, his jacket brushing the seat. “But I heard you wrapped up your designs. Nice work.”

A faint heat crept into her cheeks. “Thanks. How’s your week been?”

“Grueling, but good,” he said, eyes bright with restless energy. Then, almost offhandedly, “You’re coming to the ball tomorrow, right?”

Her brows lifted, curiosity sparking. “Yeah. I am.”

“Good.” He rose as his phone buzzed, flashing her an easy smile. “I’ll see you there.”

With a quick wave, he disappeared into the restaurant crowd.

Ximara stared after him, heart thudding, a quiet thrill blooming beneath her skin.

She finished her meal without really tasting it.

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The next evening Ximara was getting ready for the ball.

In her room, the red dress lay beside the blue, Ximara's gaze alternating between both. The stalker’s note

flickered through her thoughts, but a week had passed without another letter. She told herself it had been a mistake. Something meant for someone else. A wrong delivery. Anything but what it hinted at.

Tonight, the red felt right for the event.

She slipped it on, the fabric fitting her like it had been made for her alone. The lace closed at her back with a faint tremble in her hands. In the mirror, the color made her look fearless, even if she didn’t feel that way yet. She stepped into her heels and left for the ballroom.

The moment she entered, the room shifted.

Heads turned towards her, and conversations stalled.

Stephan. Lara. Staff. Strangers. All eyes were on her.

Her stomach fluttered. “Do I look okay?” she asked Lara quietly.

Lara crossed the room and pulled her into a hug. “You look stunning.” Zara giggled from her arms, reaching for Ximara’s hair. She laughed softly, playing with the child until the nerves eased.

“Good evening, Mr. Rowan,” Mrs. Smith, the designer said, approaching Stephan. “Suit fitting well?”

“Perfect,” he said, then glanced at Lara. “If your dress doesn’t compete with this, I’m in trouble.”

“You chose the red?” Lara asked Ximara.

“Yeah… why?”

“It was customized—” Mrs. Smith started, then her phone rang. “Excuse me.” She stepped away before explaining.

Before Ximara could process that, Arthur appeared in front of her, and she forgot everything else that mattered.

“You look beautiful,” he said simply.

“Thank you,” she replied, warmth spreading across her face.

He stayed close after that—offering drinks, leaning in to talk, brushing her arm now and then. Comforting in a way she hadn’t expected.

And yet—

Something prickled at the back of her neck.

She glanced toward the edges of the room. Nothing obvious.

But she felt it. Like someone was watching her. Glaring at her.

Hidden in the dark, a figure stood rigid, fists clenched as he watched Arthur hover near Ximara. The stalker’s breath hitched as he saw her in the red gown—his gown. He was the one to send it, picturing how hot she would.

She glowed, drawing eyes from every corner of the ballroom, the very attention he hadn’t planned to share. Regret soured in his stomach. He took photos silently—her smile, her posture, her radiance—saving one as his wallpaper.

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The night rolled on. Arthur stayed close to Ximara.

Music swelled from every corner of the ballroom. Laughter followed.

Then the speakers crackled.

“We have gathered for VIP press meet with Mr. Curan, our chief guest. Questions may begin.”

A man stepped onto a distant platform. Too far for Ximara to make out clearly, but something about him snagged Ximara’s attention.

Something pulled her towards him. The way he stood at the podium was commanding, radiating his aura, which could be felt even at the distance.

Arthur’s fingers brushed her arm.

“Want to go?” he asked softly, holding out his hand.

She took it without hesitation.

“This party’s kinda dull,” he said with a crooked smile. “Fresh air?”

“Yes,” she said, a little too fast. “Please.”

They slipped away into a quiet hallway. The noise faded. Cool air grounded her. Beyond the railing, the city glowed below them.

Arthur turned toward her, closer now, “Ximara,” he said, voice steady, sincere. “How about dinner tomorrow night? Just us.”

Her breath caught. The answer came easily.

“I’d love that.”

For the first time in days, the weight she’d been carrying eased.

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