The Billionaire's Enchanted Bride

Over the large ballroom, the stunning chandelier in the Harrington Auction House created a kaleidoscope of lighting. Richness and strength permeated the space, the whisper of silence blending with the odd clink of champagne glasses. Ethan Draycott, the youngest billionaire in the software sector, set himself apart from the rest by focusing exclusively on the stage as the gavel of the auctioneer broke against the polished platform set.

Declared the auctioneer, "Lot 47," his voice growing to demand attention, "a rare artifact, believed to be an ancient relic from the late mediaeval period." Starting at a hundred thousand dollars.

Ethan leaned back in his chair and steepled fingers closing his eyes. Among the priceless objects and artwork, the crystalline sphere-hardly lit by the stage lights-seemed out of context. It shimmered with an odd appeal, as though its hidden center was known. Though he lacked superstitious tendencies, something about it captivated him.

Two hundred thousand responded from across the hall.

Ethan hesitated silently then gestured everyone in the room toward "Three hundred."

Ethan's name preceded him not only as a commercial leader but also as a man who hardly made quick decisions among whispers humming through the assembly.

The bidding increased, but Ethan remained cool and masterfully outwitted his rivals with careless certainty. His one million dollar bid silence the crowd by the time the gavel landed.

Ethan glanced at the treasure now resting on the brilliant black desk of his apartment late that evening. Although he concentrated just on the orb, the city's lights swirled across the floor to-celly windows behind him. It pulsed gently, almost invisibly, just as life does.

Always asking questions, he said, "What secrets are you hiding?"

He took it up, the cool surface just warming in his hand. Every square inch of the chamber changed at once. Once closed windows let a blast of wind over the fluttering lights. Ethan stopped, his grasp on the ball tightening as a terrible buzz shot blasted across the field.

Ethan lunched backward to cover his eyes from the blazing artifact. In the middle of his desk stood someone lowering the lamp.

Her golden hair swirled in waves, her airy, piercing, unearthly emerald eyes reflected something. Clung to her body, a robe of bright silver cloth sent an intensity that set the air surrounding her flame.

Her voice sang, melodic and forceful, "Who dares summon me?"

Blinking, Ethan's analytical mind sought out reason. Ask you? I caught myself not calling anyone. Where you presently work, what are you working on and with whom?

Her eyes closed and her countenance changed from wrath to doubt as the woman cast about. She said, almost to herself, "This... This is not my domain." Her eyes stayed on the ball still in Ethan's hands. You as well! You switched on the curse of Orithia!

What? Ethan asked, wriggled, then backed off gently.

She pointed to the sphere and then flowed with the elegance of water. That relic dropped me down here. A mortal folly only could dare to awaken its might.

Ethan's need for control took front stage. "Listen, woman-whatever your identity is-I believe in neither magic nor curses. Would this maybe be an advanced fraud-that is, "

"Scam?," she said, laughing harshly and unpleasantly. "You people are exactly the same anywhere. Not sure the underlying causes of your loss of control. yet, this... She moved with her own hand. There is not any fraud here. You humans slaves; I am Queen of the Fae.

Ethan moved around his business trying to understand her remarks. Standing at her desk, Seraphina exuded royal grace despite her wild look.

"Let me get this straight," Ethan remarked at last. You say you are a fairy queen, cursed and imprisoned inside this sphere, and now you are stuck here thanks to me?

Furious, Seraphina yelled, her tolerance failing.

Ethan, clearly dubious, ran his dark hair between his hands. This is just ridiculous. There is magic nowhere on Earth.

Rising from her with emerald eyes blazing was Seraphina. Then incredibly carefully explain why I am here. Describe why your priceless technology cannot reverse what has been done. She waved over the space, a little power tremor dancing in the air.

Ethan's eyes strayed to his computer screen, black since she arrived. His well controlled life seemed to be spiraling out of control.

At last he said, "Fine," sharply releasing air. "Let's pretend, for arguments sake, you are who you say you are.'" From me, especially regarding what exactly you are looking for?

Her demeanor softened, but little. "I want freedom," her answer was. "This curses links me to your planet till...." She stopped to catch her voice faltering.

Of what?

"Until I find true love," she continued, "the respectful comments seem."

Ethan wrinkled his brow. " sincere love?" That makes sense. I dropped totally for you; this is the part we lead gladly always after. His voice came out as nasty.

Seraphina started to rotate her brushes. Not a fairy tale; I want none of your mortal emotions. Your difficulties are less than those in my cell, hence the curse is not strong.

One could surely feel suspense in the room. Ethan corrected his body and opened his arms. Should you so want it, you will have to fight for freedom. I reject your point of view, hence I reject either actual or otherwise love.

Neither do I trust you, Seraphina shot back. "But it seems that fate rules us whether or not we like it."

For a minute neither talked since their circumstances collapsed on them. Not at all like the city lights flickering outside the glass was the hazy anarchy within the chamber.

At last Ethan yelled out against the hush. " Alright, Princess of the Fae. Let us tackle this from backward. One thing is clear: you have limited power here. We use my approach; my universe is what we know.

Her mouth opened to a contemptuous smile. About that, mortal, we will see.

The strange duo was about to start adventure neither had planned as the clock struck midnight.

The room seemed to be charged. Ethan turned aside and raised his arms. Should you so want it, you will have to fight for freedom. I reject your point of view, hence I reject either actual or otherwise love.

Neither do I trust you, Seraphina shot back. "But it seems that fate rules us whether or not we like it."

For a minute neither talked since their circumstances collapsed on them. Not at all like the city lights flickering outside the glass was the hazy anarchy within the chamber.

At last Ethan yelled out against the hush. "Alright, Princess of the Fae. Let us tackle this from backward. One thing is clear: you have limited power here. We work using my approach; this is my universe.

The mouth of Seraphina expanded to a sardonic smile. "We will find out about that, mortal.

Ethan was not responding; the sphere on his desk started to pulsate angrily and its bland glow darkened red. As a quick pulse of vigor tore across the room, both of them fell.

"What is the devil doing now?" Ethan boomed then corrected himself exactly at the desk.

The face of Seraphina became white, panic widening her eyes. The ball is calling forth still another person. Something.

The penthouse's windows broke outward in a vast flash of light and wind, as though in response. Ethan had shills run down his spine as a loud, guttural scream ripped across the evening air.

Her speech pauses. "whatever you have awaken," remarked Seraphina, "it's not just me."