THE RELUCTANT GROOM

Lena stared at the eviction notice in her hands like it was a death sentence delivered like a sick joke. It came on a cheap looking piece of paper and didn't even have the decency to be heavy or important-looking... the kind of document that would at least respect the gravity of the damage it was doing to her life. It fluttered in Lena's trembling hand like a joke.

FINAL NOTICE, it read. VACATE IN SEVEN DAYS.

She sank down on the dusty wooden floor of the gallery with her back pressed against the wall that her father had once painted himself. That was all that remained of her father's legacy... the gallery he'd built with nothing but stubborn hands and impossible dreams. The same gallery where she had spent endless summers curled up with paints staining her fingers, dreaming of making him proud. Now? Now it was all about to be taken away from her, all about to be destroyed by that worthless piece of paper she held... the one with one brutal line and a seven-day deadline, unless she found a miracle.

Her throat burned but she didn't cry, she had told herself long ago that crying never solved anything, it only made the pain worse. Instead, Lena forced herself to breathe through the suffocating and chalky taste of failure coating her mouth as she grabbed her cracked phone from her pocket to check the time... the alarm she'd set for today buzzed insistently: "Exhibition - 6PM. LAST CHANCE."

She still had one painting left, one last desperate attempt to claw her way out of this looming disaster. If she could just sell it... just one piece, she could pay the bastard landlord off for another month, or at the very least buy more time to figure something else out.

Tonight was her Hail Mary: the Winterbourne Gala, the largest and most prestigious art event of the year with the high and mighty of society in attendance. She wasn't even supposed to be there, only a shaky favor from a former professor had scraped her onto the guest list, buried among the nobodies.

Lena stared at herself in the cracked mirror, she could barely recognize the girl staring back at her with wide haunted eyes and bruised lips pressed tight with resolve. Her cheap black dress clung to her beautiful shape, hinting at the beautiful and curvy young woman hidden beneath. Her battered heels pinched her feet cruelly, but she gritted her teeth and forced herself to stand tall.

You only need one yes.

She grabbed her painting... her last masterpiece and bolted.

The gala did not fail to live up to the hype that surrounded it, it was filled with all the royalties of Melbourne and those from all over the country. Laughter rang out as champagne flowed freely and guests danced to classical music in a carefree manner, like they had no worries or care in the world. Everywhere she turned, Lena saw gowns stitched with diamonds, perfectly tailored suits and eyes that glanced over her and instantly dismissed her.

She didn't belong here, she could feel it... like a brand burning between her shoulder blades. But still she shoved through the crowds, clutching her painting to herself like a shield and ignoring the aching of her fingers from gripping the canvas too tightly.

She was threading her way past the auction tables when it happened, The strange and shocking collision... One second she was dodging a waiter, and then the next she was slamming into something... someone, so solid she bounced backward, nearly losing her grip on the painting. A hand had shot out so fast it seemed impossible, but fingers had closed around her wrist and steadied her. Static snapped where the hand had touched her skin, a violent electric jolt that made her heart skip.