01-23-2025, 01:38 AM
Colette tried to ignore Sofia’s judgment, but the words had already sunk their teeth into her. She wasn’t fawning over anyone! The accusation, however subtle, sparked a flare of heat in her chest, only to be smothered by a wave of shame she couldn’t quite shake. Why did Carter always manage to loom over her, even when she hadn’t given him a thought in weeks? Or was it months? Whatever it was, Sofia’s disapproval—however mild—brought him crashing back into her mind with infuriating force.
She opened her mouth to defend herself, but Sofia was already summoning an employee. Colette had seen his kind at every Moreau event: silent enforcers, tasked with making problems vanish before anyone noticed there was a problem at all. She didn’t need an explanation to know what would come next.
When Sofia’s cool, deliberate voice added, her final order, Colette froze. “Please don’t hurt him,” she implored. She reached out as if to make sure Viktor heard her, but he was already gone. Carter would never cause a scene, his pride and the Volthström name wouldn’t allow it, but the idea of him being escorted out like some drunken intruder left a sour taste in her mouth, and despite everything she pretended about polite society, Moscow had a reputation. Carter wasn’t invited, true, but this wasn’t his doing. This reeked of his cousin, Guillaume.
Her eyes scanned the room as the thought took hold. If Guillaume was here—and he had to be here—he would be hiding behind one of these masks, watching with that infuriating smirk of his. She didn’t spot him, but her search caught on something else: Adrian, locked in conversation with Zixin, his posture sharp and deliberate. The sight sent a jolt of frustration through her, a reminder of how much power swirled around her tonight. Sofia’s warning echoed in her mind, louder now, and more forceful.
Colette turned away, her chest tightening. She wasn’t ambitious like the rest of them—not like Adrian, or Zixin, or even Guillaume. She wasn’t here for glory or influence. She had a goal, singular and specific, and she didn’t care if anyone lauded her success so long as she achieved it. Yet, everywhere she turned, it seemed the power belonged to someone else, and she was left navigating their currents, powerless to chart her own course.
After explaining to Sofia that she would be alright, she flagged down a server and took a glass of champagne, swallowing two quick sips before taking a breath. The bubbles sharpened her resolve, or at least gave her enough courage to move forward. A rare opportunity had presented itself. The Ascendancy, swarmed earlier by guests eager to bask in his influence, had shifted attention back to the Vasilevs. Now, it seemed, he was preparing to excuse himself. If she didn’t act now, she might lose her chance.
She didn’t rush, keeping her pace even as she intercepted him. As she approached, her gaze flicked briefly to the side, where Carter was subtly being escorted out. She didn’t let herself linger on the sight. If she hesitated now, she might change her mind entirely.
“Ascendancy,” she said sweetly, stepping into his path. Her voice was calm, polished, a lifetime of refinement behind it. “Might I have a moment?”
He paused, his surprise well hidden behind the cool detachment of his mask. His eyes studied her briefly, a flicker of recognition failing to spark. He doesn’t know me.
“Colette Moreau,” she offered, her smile just warm enough. His nod was almost imperceptible, but it was enough. She could continue.
“I’m a friend of Senator Avalon,” she said, keeping her voice light, confident. “She asked me to deliver a message.”
That caught his attention. His body language shifted slightly, almost imperceptibly. Colette pressed on, seizing the moment.
“She told me how important she is to you,” she said, the smallest of smiles playing at her lips.
For a moment, his expression didn’t change, his mask as unreadable as ever. Then, with a glance to someone nearby, he replied coolly, “Let’s talk another time, Miss Moreau.”
Before she could react, he was already gone, a staffer stepping into his place to explain that someone would be in touch. Colette nodded as though this was the outcome she’d anticipated all along, handing over her contact information in complete poise. But as the staffer disappeared, she let herself exhale. The moment had left her breathless. It felt too easy, and yet the ripple of triumph curling in her chest was undeniable.
She turned, ready to move on to the next task, when she came face to face with a familiar smirk. Guillaume.
He kissed her cheek before she could pull away, his charm cutting through her composure like a knife through silk.
“You are ravishing, Colette, as always,” he said smoothly, his accented tone drenched in French flattery without straying into mockery.
She forced a smile, returning the embrace with far less enthusiasm. “I knew you must have been here somewhere.”
His smirk widened. “Though I couldn’t help but notice my dear cousin is no longer among us. I wouldn’t have thought you capable of tossing out such a sweet, sappy face.”
“Not that you’d know anything about sweet or sappy,” she shot back, resisting the urge to cross her arms. She wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of knowing he’d rattled her. “And for the record, it wasn’t me. He wasn’t on the guest list, and I’m certain you aren’t either.”
Guillaume shrugged. “That’s never stopped me before.”
“What are you doing here, Guillaume?” Her tone was sharp, pointed.
“It’s a party,” he said innocently, spreading his arms. “A decent estate. Louis de Volthström Cristal… 2014 vintage… if my palette is correct, and it always is. You understand the appeal.”
Her eyes narrowed. “Obviously you’re helping Carter. You’re doing an excellent job. He nearly ruined things for me.”
Guillaume’s grin widened. “What can I say? I’m a romantic.”
“What you are,” she said icily, “I can’t say in polite company.”
He laughed, clearly delighted by her irritation. “You have a good rest of your night, Colette. If you’ll excuse me,” he said, lifting her hand to kiss her knuckles before slipping back into the crowd.
Colette watched him go, debating whether she should alert Sofia to his presence. But it was too late now. Guillaume was gone, and there was no reason for the Vasilevs to think Carter hadn’t acted alone.
![[Image: Guillaume1.jpg?w=466&ssl=1]](https://i0.wp.com/thefirstage.org/wp-content/uploads/2023/08/Guillaume1.jpg?w=466&ssl=1)
Gui slipped away from Colette, satisfied with how he left her. The faint trace of irritation in her eyes was a small victory, one he savored. Colette was always so composed, so unflappable, but he knew exactly how to unsettle her without stepping over the line. It was a game he played for sport, though he suspected she thought there was more to it. Perhaps there was.
Returning to the party, Gui didn’t bother masking his amusement as he caught sight of Carter in quiet conversation with one of the staff. The subtle tension in Carter’s posture and the way the staffer inclined his head told Gui all he needed to know. An expulsion. Gui recognized it instantly—he’d orchestrated more than a few in his time.
Poor Carter, he thought with mock sympathy. Not his fault he’s so transparent. Gui made a mental note to check in with his cousin at the hotel (tomorrow), though he doubted Carter would appreciate the gesture.
As he approached the bar, he spotted Tarik, the man from the lounge earlier. He was with a woman Gui didn’t recognize, but she immediately drew his attention. Tall, poised, and strikingly beautiful, she carried herself with a smug confidence that suggested she was more than just another guest. Her dress clung to her like a second skin, plunging lower than any other woman in sight.
Gui’s curiosity piqued. He adjusted his mask slightly, smoothing the lapel of his jacket as he closed the distance.
“Tarik,” Gui said, his voice carrying just enough to suggest familiarity without overstepping. “I see you’ve upgraded your company since I last saw you.” He turned to address his companion.
She opened her mouth to defend herself, but Sofia was already summoning an employee. Colette had seen his kind at every Moreau event: silent enforcers, tasked with making problems vanish before anyone noticed there was a problem at all. She didn’t need an explanation to know what would come next.
When Sofia’s cool, deliberate voice added, her final order, Colette froze. “Please don’t hurt him,” she implored. She reached out as if to make sure Viktor heard her, but he was already gone. Carter would never cause a scene, his pride and the Volthström name wouldn’t allow it, but the idea of him being escorted out like some drunken intruder left a sour taste in her mouth, and despite everything she pretended about polite society, Moscow had a reputation. Carter wasn’t invited, true, but this wasn’t his doing. This reeked of his cousin, Guillaume.
Her eyes scanned the room as the thought took hold. If Guillaume was here—and he had to be here—he would be hiding behind one of these masks, watching with that infuriating smirk of his. She didn’t spot him, but her search caught on something else: Adrian, locked in conversation with Zixin, his posture sharp and deliberate. The sight sent a jolt of frustration through her, a reminder of how much power swirled around her tonight. Sofia’s warning echoed in her mind, louder now, and more forceful.
Colette turned away, her chest tightening. She wasn’t ambitious like the rest of them—not like Adrian, or Zixin, or even Guillaume. She wasn’t here for glory or influence. She had a goal, singular and specific, and she didn’t care if anyone lauded her success so long as she achieved it. Yet, everywhere she turned, it seemed the power belonged to someone else, and she was left navigating their currents, powerless to chart her own course.
After explaining to Sofia that she would be alright, she flagged down a server and took a glass of champagne, swallowing two quick sips before taking a breath. The bubbles sharpened her resolve, or at least gave her enough courage to move forward. A rare opportunity had presented itself. The Ascendancy, swarmed earlier by guests eager to bask in his influence, had shifted attention back to the Vasilevs. Now, it seemed, he was preparing to excuse himself. If she didn’t act now, she might lose her chance.
She didn’t rush, keeping her pace even as she intercepted him. As she approached, her gaze flicked briefly to the side, where Carter was subtly being escorted out. She didn’t let herself linger on the sight. If she hesitated now, she might change her mind entirely.
“Ascendancy,” she said sweetly, stepping into his path. Her voice was calm, polished, a lifetime of refinement behind it. “Might I have a moment?”
He paused, his surprise well hidden behind the cool detachment of his mask. His eyes studied her briefly, a flicker of recognition failing to spark. He doesn’t know me.
“Colette Moreau,” she offered, her smile just warm enough. His nod was almost imperceptible, but it was enough. She could continue.
“I’m a friend of Senator Avalon,” she said, keeping her voice light, confident. “She asked me to deliver a message.”
That caught his attention. His body language shifted slightly, almost imperceptibly. Colette pressed on, seizing the moment.
“She told me how important she is to you,” she said, the smallest of smiles playing at her lips.
For a moment, his expression didn’t change, his mask as unreadable as ever. Then, with a glance to someone nearby, he replied coolly, “Let’s talk another time, Miss Moreau.”
Before she could react, he was already gone, a staffer stepping into his place to explain that someone would be in touch. Colette nodded as though this was the outcome she’d anticipated all along, handing over her contact information in complete poise. But as the staffer disappeared, she let herself exhale. The moment had left her breathless. It felt too easy, and yet the ripple of triumph curling in her chest was undeniable.
She turned, ready to move on to the next task, when she came face to face with a familiar smirk. Guillaume.
He kissed her cheek before she could pull away, his charm cutting through her composure like a knife through silk.
“You are ravishing, Colette, as always,” he said smoothly, his accented tone drenched in French flattery without straying into mockery.
She forced a smile, returning the embrace with far less enthusiasm. “I knew you must have been here somewhere.”
His smirk widened. “Though I couldn’t help but notice my dear cousin is no longer among us. I wouldn’t have thought you capable of tossing out such a sweet, sappy face.”
“Not that you’d know anything about sweet or sappy,” she shot back, resisting the urge to cross her arms. She wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of knowing he’d rattled her. “And for the record, it wasn’t me. He wasn’t on the guest list, and I’m certain you aren’t either.”
Guillaume shrugged. “That’s never stopped me before.”
“What are you doing here, Guillaume?” Her tone was sharp, pointed.
“It’s a party,” he said innocently, spreading his arms. “A decent estate. Louis de Volthström Cristal… 2014 vintage… if my palette is correct, and it always is. You understand the appeal.”
Her eyes narrowed. “Obviously you’re helping Carter. You’re doing an excellent job. He nearly ruined things for me.”
Guillaume’s grin widened. “What can I say? I’m a romantic.”
“What you are,” she said icily, “I can’t say in polite company.”
He laughed, clearly delighted by her irritation. “You have a good rest of your night, Colette. If you’ll excuse me,” he said, lifting her hand to kiss her knuckles before slipping back into the crowd.
Colette watched him go, debating whether she should alert Sofia to his presence. But it was too late now. Guillaume was gone, and there was no reason for the Vasilevs to think Carter hadn’t acted alone.
Guillaume de Volthström
Gui slipped away from Colette, satisfied with how he left her. The faint trace of irritation in her eyes was a small victory, one he savored. Colette was always so composed, so unflappable, but he knew exactly how to unsettle her without stepping over the line. It was a game he played for sport, though he suspected she thought there was more to it. Perhaps there was.
Returning to the party, Gui didn’t bother masking his amusement as he caught sight of Carter in quiet conversation with one of the staff. The subtle tension in Carter’s posture and the way the staffer inclined his head told Gui all he needed to know. An expulsion. Gui recognized it instantly—he’d orchestrated more than a few in his time.
Poor Carter, he thought with mock sympathy. Not his fault he’s so transparent. Gui made a mental note to check in with his cousin at the hotel (tomorrow), though he doubted Carter would appreciate the gesture.
As he approached the bar, he spotted Tarik, the man from the lounge earlier. He was with a woman Gui didn’t recognize, but she immediately drew his attention. Tall, poised, and strikingly beautiful, she carried herself with a smug confidence that suggested she was more than just another guest. Her dress clung to her like a second skin, plunging lower than any other woman in sight.
Gui’s curiosity piqued. He adjusted his mask slightly, smoothing the lapel of his jacket as he closed the distance.
“Tarik,” Gui said, his voice carrying just enough to suggest familiarity without overstepping. “I see you’ve upgraded your company since I last saw you.” He turned to address his companion.
![[Image: Colette-signature-rainbow.png]](http://thefirstage.org/wp-content/uploads/2023/05/Colette-signature-rainbow.png)