Chapter 16: Maria Meets Paris

Crossing his legs with elegance and smiling at the blue skies before them, Paris chirped, "I'm here now. You can start talking." Maria battered her long lashes. Her eyes squinted in confusion. "I'm sorry. I think you got the wrong person." She grabbed her bag and books and was about to leave. Paris grabbed her elbow. "Wait! Aren't you Maria Davis?" He looked incredulous. Maria drew her bag strap on her shoulder. "Yes." "Then, this is your chance!" Paris beamed his toothy smile and spread his arms like he was introducing a grand product behind a red curtain. Maria looked even more confused, "A chance for what?" Not missing a grin, the prince slotted both hands into his pockets and stood proudly. "To join the student council, of course!" Then, he laughed out loudly. "You must be too mesmerized by the sight of your president and lost for words. I understand. I understand. Don't be shy. I'll– Hey! Where are you going?" Paris jolted forward. The lonely poor figure didn't seem to hear him at all. He sprung from the bench, took three long strides, grabbed her elbow once more, and spun her around. The sparkles in her green eyes took the air out of his lungs. He was almost lost in them if not for her loud voice. "Let go of me! What do you want from me? I gave you the bench, didn't I?" She was struggling like a wounded bird. Paris released his fingers and straightened to his usual knightly stance as she gathered herself together. "Look, Maria Davis. I'm not here for the bench." He almost wanted to roll his eyes in irritation. This… stupid girl wasn't even paying attention. How rude! With a deep inhale, he tried again. "I'm here to ask you about the student council." Maria blinked a few times. Her eyes widened in horror as the president's words finally registered. She backed away, shaking her head profusely. "Oh no, no, no. You're mistaken. I'm not joining the student council." "But your supporters…" Paris knitted his brows. "What supporters?" Paris closed his eyes to suppress an impending rise of anger. "Those people who have been going around asking for votes to get you into the council to represent them." Maria blinked a few more times. Her expression was still blank. The prince's shoulders fell in defeat. "You don't know what's going on, do you?" Maria shook her head slowly. She tugged the strap on her shoulder and muttered, "I'm sorry to have wasted your time. I'm afraid you're mistaken. I never wanted to be in the student council. I will.... go now. Bye. It's nice to meet you." She turned from him. "What about your supporters?" His voice caught onto her like a lasso. The prince never gave up his prey. Maria halted. With a smirk, he added firmly, "You may not know them, but their efforts are real. I've seen them going around the campus, asking every student for a signature." Of course, he lied. Who in the right mind would follow those civilians around the campus? He, Paris Carter, had far more important things to do. Maria turned back again. She's hooked! Paris beamed inside. Outside, he continued his great speech of empathy. "You may not want this, but this is not about you. It's about them, and they chose you." Paris took in a deep breath. He then exhaled and relaxed his features. His voice continued in a serious, mentoring tone. "So listen to what they have to say before you decide. If you want to reject them, by all means, go ahead. But do it because you know what it's all about. Not because you don't care." The pair of captivating emeralds glowed like a baby who had just tasted beautiful notes of milk chocolate. Gotcha, Paris smiled inside. Maria gazed at the guy standing before in awe. He was certainly the student president—his aura, the confidence, and, most importantly, the generous care for the student body. This guy may have looked and behaved a little strange, but he was the true voice of the students. A tiny voice crept up inside Maria's head. He may be a good husband. Sarkon would be pleased with your choice. Instantly, tears welled up in her eyes. The prince had never been so flabbergasted until this point in his entire life. He had seen women lose their senses, their first of everything and even their realities over his sweet charm and gentle words. Never once had they exploded into tears and wailed like a fire alarm. For the first time in his life, he had lost something to this incredibly eccentric country girl: his nerves. "God damn it, Maria Davis!" He hushed through his gritted teeth, trying very hard to maintain a smile. "Why the hell are you crying?" Maria wailed louder. "Alright, alright. Here." Paris thrust his handkerchief in front of Maria's wet and reddened face. "Take it." Maria sobbed a few times and cried again. After a grunt of exasperation and a roll of his eyes, Paris took her hand and pressed the carefully folded, checkered cloth into her palm. Maria took the fragrant handkerchief, dabbed her eyes, pressed it to her nose, and blew hard. Paris lowered his voice while his eyes searched the vicinity for suspicious onlookers. "Stop crying, will you? Are you trying to make the bad guy here?" Maria halted with a hiccup. One look at the blue sky behind Paris's head made her fall into a series of sobs again. The guy in white frowned at her. God, this woman is like a broken tap. "You really need to stop now." He snapped in a harsh whisper, "What the hell's the matter with you?" "Sorry." she inhaled deeply. "It's just… you... sound so right." Her lips trembled in a sad curve as fresh tears washed down those pale cheeks. "This is really not about me," Maria whispered as Sarkon's voice surfaced in her head once more. "It's really… not about me," she choked. Damn it! Paris cursed silently. He wasn't expecting a crybaby. What manifestation of bad luck was this? Suddenly, a group of students emerged from a building near them. Without a warning, Paris reached a hand behind Maria's head as an arm slipped around her waist. She fell against him, enveloped in his rich, sweet-smelling warmth, and cried as hard as she could. A week of mourning the loss of her love poured out all at once into the muffled sounds of shallow breathing that went unnoticed and forgotten like a speck of discarded pollen. From afar, a camera lens adjusted its view and snapped a shot. ***** The precious gem of the Loller Group, Betty Loller, was a black-haired beauty. Her jet-black hair was like a river of the highest grade of crude oil. Her skin was the smoothness of silk and paleness of snow, and her eyes sparkled like diamonds. Sarkon stood with his hands behind his back like a true gentleman and flashed a kind smile at the beautiful woman in a short black dress that glittered like crystals and wrapped her body like a second skin. "Ms. Loller." Sarkon gently took a willowy hand and raised it to his lips. He kissed lightly on the fingertips then straightened and gazed into those two slits transfixed on him. "It's a pleasure to finally meet you." "Finally?" The whipped woman breathed, unable to look away. The man standing before her had made her heart forget to beat. She'd heard all about Sarkon Ritchie: a rising star, the black knight of the business world, and the second most wanted bachelor. Women were driven to the brink of insanity at the mere sight of him. His dangerous good looks could make a woman's inside boil with the need to be devoured by him. Betty had dismissed all the news and rumors with derisive chuckles. Now, she was as smitten. The steamy, gorgeous giant standing before her spread those desirable lips like the wings of an angel into the warmest smile she had ever seen. "I've heard so much about Claude's charming sister, and it's true," the deep voice ran like a feather on her skin. No one has called her charming before. It was as if he appreciated her not only for her beauty. What a meticulous man, she thought. Then, she saw his large hand open a palm at a vacant seat from across him. "Please, take a seat." She sat, not taking her eyes off him. "Would you like a drink? Tea? Water?" Betty cleared her throat silently then muttered, "Tea." At her answer, a man in an elegant suit with gold-rimmed specs appeared holding a tray. He bowed and proceeded to lay the set up for tea. "I hope you don't mind, but I've taken the liberty to order your drink before you arrive. I remember Claude mentioned that you adore rose tea." Those black eyes grew with surprise and shone with a new twinkle. "I-I didn't realize you'd care for such details." Sarkon smiled. "I had to, especially when I'm interested in the person." Those cherry lips sucked in a shock. Such bluntness was sexy as hell. She swallowed hard and managed a shy smile. "I should be flattered." "I should be too. I'm glad you agree to see me. I thought you'd reject me." Betty jolted forward in her seat. "No! I-I wouldn't. What makes you think… I'd reject you?" "Well..." Sarkon chuckled softly. "I heard that your admirers can fill the whole of Lenmont."