femme fatale.

Olivier nodded a few times and hummed thoughtfully, his eyebrows scrunched up as if he was pondering something. It felt like there was a snake writhing it’s way up through his throat. He knew what he was going to say to her that night, but since the incident with Yvonne, something had been nagging at him. It started as an afterthought, then a full thought, and settled into his system just waiting to be expelled. He managed to keep it capped for just a few more steps before suddenly breaking away from Delphine. “Would she?” he asked, the words coming out in a single exhale. “Or would she be ashamed you were so childish and so easily threatened? Throwing drinks? Is this daycare? I’m not a fucking babysitter.”

His voice rose with each question, and despite how heated he felt, he was also relieved. It all came out so easily, so honestly, he didn’t know why he fretted about it at all. His face was getting flushed, but he wasn’t done yet. If anyone tried to interrupt, or intercede, he didn’t care. He just talked over them.

“When I was a teenager doing nothing more than running errands for people like Avraham, do you know what I was told? Keep your cool, keep up some dignity and decorum, even with your enemies. I have lived by that rule for twenty years and have never caused more trouble for your family, I’ve only helped stop trouble and keep them safe. And what is my thanks? A petulant fucking brat who wouldn’t know decorum if it punched her in the face.” He should’ve stopped. He could’ve stopped. He’d planned on stopping, but there was still that feeling in his throat, that nagging sense in his mind, that he had more to say. “It doesn’t matter how many ballet classes you’ve taken or dinner parties you’ve been to or gowns you’ve worn. You have no class and no dignity and no real dedication to the people who are fooled into thinking you do. And you really have the gall to say your aunt would be proud?”

He definitely had to stop.

But wait, no. Because it wasn’t just her. And now he wasn’t just addressing Delphine, but any commandant in sight. He was starting to sound a little hoarse from the constant high volume, but that didn’t keep him from getting out his last barrage.

“You’re all fucking hypocrites. None of you adhere to the rules you set for all the people you walk all over. And then play nice when Aurélie is around. It’s. Bullshit.”

For the first time since he began, he took a deep breath and regained enough focus to actually pay attention to the faces around him. Fuck.

Delphine didn’t see that coming. When Olivier kept talking, Delphine’s head turned so violently to glare at him. “Or would she be ashamed you were so childish and so easily threatened? Throwing drinks? Is this daycare? I’m not a fucking babysitter,” he said. This man had some nerve bringing out her dead aunt. Delphine took one step closer to Oliver, raised her hand and slapped him across the face. The man deserved more than that but she was not up for murdering someone when so many were watching them. “Shut your fucking mouth,” she hissed out in French. What the fuck was wrong with Olivier? If he’d been a machine, she would’ve checked its battery to make sure it was alright. “You don’t mention her name and say it like you knew her best. You didn’t. Fuck off.”

“And you?” she asked calmly. “You’re calling us hypocrites but the biggest hypocrite here is you. You made a grand speech but you forgot to look at yourself in the mirror. Such a shame,” Delphine said before she took a step back and left Olivier behind before he or anyone could notice that her heart, something she didn’t know she had, had sunk.

yvonnerutherford‌:

Yvonne didn’t fully understand what Delphine had meant with her words until the blonde took a step back, tripping a waiter forward. Automatically, the brunette raised her hands to catch the man before he could fall on her, but in hindsight Yvonne should have considered stepping away.

The shattering of glass on the floor was what registered first, followed by the cold liquid running down and through her dress when the shock subsided. Yvonne barely heard the rushed apologies of the waiter, who just as quickly disappeared to hopefully get help and clean up the mess. Only then did she notice the reddish purple hue that kept growing on her gown.

Deep breaths didn’t do much to calm her down, but when Delphine began speaking, maybe Yvonne just shouldn’t. Shock turned to seething rage in a snap. What would it be like to sock her and knock a few teeth out? Jared would have liked that.

At least the one she knew.

But this was a public event, and she was her father’s daughter. Her mother’s daughter. Wiping the wine dripping off her face, Yvonne kept a lid on the blood boiling in her veins, a tight smile on her face. “Her owner should have kept her on a leash then,” Yvonne said, her tone low as she slowly closed the distance between her and Delphine.

Alright. Play time was over.

Under any other circumstances, Sveta wouldn’t have intervened. If she was being completely honest, that catfight was the most entertaining thing she’d seen all night – which was why she was watching it in the first place. The petty subterfuge and bad insults truly deseverd a chef’s kiss, and for the sake of everyone else watching and getting a laugh, Sveta should have let this play out.

But. Miss Delphine had decided to pick on a Rutherford, of all people. 

When Sveta stepped in and between Delphine and Yvonne, she didn’t do it out of the kindness of her heart. Fuck that shit; this was an opportunity, no matter how microscopic, to show the Russians’ good will towards the Rutherfords, especially the members of their family. They were allies, and while this alliance was still fresh and fragile, Sveta knew it was up to her to strengthen it with gestures like these. It might have seemed like her intention was to pick a fight with Delphine, and while that wasn’t entirely wrong, Sveta was more interested in the youngest Rutherford receiving assistance. To receive it and understand that the Vorshevsky was on her side.

“Hey.” Sveta wedged herself in between the two women, blocking Delphine’s sight on Yvonne. Protective, almost. “French fleshlight. That fur looks fake and that tiara fucking stupid on your gigantic head. Fix your own shit first before you pick a fight.”

“Oof,” Delphine exhaled with a smile as she was picking up a glass of champagne from another waiter and took a sip. If she had been anyone else, the sight in front of her would make her feel remorseful. But Delphine was not even a little bit apologetic. Seeing Yvonne drenched in wine was satisfying. The satisfaction put her in a state of bliss that even what Yvonne said next couldn’t make her angry. “Well that wouldn’t be fun, would it?”

Delphine gave the Russian one glance before she burst out laughing. “Oh wow. I didn’t know pastries are on the menu,” she said to Olivier in between laughs. “Until this...Russian tart came along. Your dessert, Yvonne?”

@delphine-stclair​

As the minute and hours ticked by, it’d felt like the longest night of the year. When Olivier and Delphine met up to make their way to the waiting car, however, it suddenly felt as if the night had been far too short. There were at least a dozen other Frenchman around them, and Olivier had the feeling that they’d likely all be up until dawn either at AU or somewhere else just as fun and exclusive. Whatever had happened in the hours before wasn’t enough to make the French forget their love of drinking and drugs and dancing and debauchery.

Olivier hooked his elbow for Delphine to hold onto if needed, eyeing the costume once more with an evidently impish smile. “I’m sure you’ve been told this a hundred times tonight, but you look beautiful,” he said. There was enough of a pause for him to take a breath before he continued. “Thank goodness Margaux isn’t here to see you dressed like a Rutherford, though.”

Delphine automatically grabbed onto Olivier’s arm and let him lead her into the venue. Not too shabby for a Halloween party. Back when she was younger—when she was still going to parties with people like Damon Rutherford and The Ecclestone sisters, Halloween meant dressing up in sexy, skimpy, barely-there costumes and attend parties in prestigious nightclubs and not getting out of them until the early hours of the morning. She’d come a long way since then.

“Thank you,” Delphine said to Olivier as she scanned the room. She wasn’t giving him her full attention until he said something else. The altercation she was involved in was putting her on the edge. Sure she was satisfied seeing little miss prim drenched in wine, but the fact that she had to come dressed like Delphine was already too much of a blood-boiler.

“You mean she was dressed like me,” she corrected him through gritted teeth. Why was this guy bringing up her aunt? “She would’ve been proud of me for taking care of it.”

“Oh,” was all Yvonne could react. She was slowly starting to realize that perhaps the woman in front of her wasn’t as ecstatic about their similar costumes, given the look the blonde gave her. Nonetheless, she tried to maintain her cool – that was, until the other woman seemed to have misheard Yvonne’s question about her costume and introduced herself instead.

St. Clair. Yvonne knew the significance of that last name, knew that the person in front of her was part of the French Organization by blood. And though the smile on Yvonne’s face never left, it did take on a different meaning.

Taking the extended hand with her own, Yvonne replied apologetically, “I don’t know her either, sorry. Is she someone important?”

Did she really have to come as a fucking princess? Delphine wanted to scream but held herself. That would be too classless. What could she possibly do to get this girl out of this party? If Margaux was here, she’d told her that she was intimidated by the girl and was afraid she’d outshine her. Non, tante, Delphine replied in her head. No one can ever outshine me.

Delphine was focused on trying to find a way to get Yvonne to back the fuck off when she realized there were waiters with trays of red wine swarming around the room. One was walking a few feet from them, so Delphine turned her head and found another one right behind them. Aha. “Yes, she replied with a satisfied smile. “Something tells me you’ll soon learn she is.” Without thinking, Delphine took a step back, hitting the waiter who lost his balance and the tray’s, sending the glasses of red liquid flying towards Yvonne’s dress. Oops.

“Oh dear! You just can’t trust the help these days,” Delphine exclaimed. “You should go take care of it. Red wine stain’s a bitch. Just like Delphine St.Clair.”

He wished he cared more about the costume aspect of the night but every single bit of energy he dedicated to the fashionable theme was another shot down his hatch. And, given his alcoholic tendencies, he knew he didn’t need another–even as he threw back his drink to smile at the St. Clair.

“Winston Churchill.” He looked her up and down slowly, lingering in the middle, “Grace.”

He stuck out a hand in introduction, “Silas Agreste. Any special reasons you’re dressed as the princess tonight?” God help him.

I’ve seen this one before, she thought as she raked her brain to find a name. Delphine knew for a fact that she’d seen him before, but he couldn’t have made an impression, because otherwise, she’d know. “Seems not everyone in this room is misinformed,” she said, practically beaming with pride when he guessed her costume right. “Yours is a rather interesting…version of Churchill. I like it.”

Ah. There it is. Agreste. The MP. “Grace’s been an inspiration of mine for as long as I can remember,” she answered. “And you? What’s your explanation?”

The bar, though crowded like the rest of the packed venue, was where the Frenchman chose to dawdle since he had arrived. An invitation to the party wasn’t received but Laurent insisted that Thierry attend. A companion for the event that was very much a melting pot of a crowd. How long would this stay civil? A question that amused the French muscle as he people watched with a drink in hand. He may have already had too much to drink, but how else would he tolerate such company? 

A familiar voice broke Thierry’s train of thought and a sly smile played his lips. The Indiana Jones hat had done enough to protect his identity. 

Turning at her question, he playfully tipped his hat before removing it to fully expose his face. “Forget about me already?” He began with a chuckle, and sat his glass down on the bar behind him, “I am just exploring this Temple of Doom here as Indiana Jones, clearly.”

“I was starting to forget you even exist. Can you blame me, though?” Delphine playfully asked her friend. She hadn’t seen Thierry in a while and Delphine was only realizing that now. It probably because she’d been overwhelmingly busy and she assumed he had been, too. “I’ve been terribly busy.  Ça va, Vendr—sorry, Indiana?”

Zhanna was thriving during the days leading up to the Halloween event as she practiced various hairstyles and makeup designs. She tried on the dress and shoes at least once a day, making occasional little changes and alterations before moving on to help Sveta with hers whenever was necessary. Obviously, professionals were hired earlier in the day to fix up their hair for the actual party, but they’d been given very strict, very detailed instructions. When Zhanna saw her fully made up reflection in the mirror for the first time she was satisfied - when she watched a man’s drink dribble down his drink from a misplaced sip because he was too busy staring at her, she was elated.

“Oh, were we meant to dress up?” Zhanna responded with a coy smile, eyeing the woman’s outfit as well. Obviously some kind of royal, though Zhanna couldn’t quite place who. The dress looked so familiar, like something she might see in a fashion museum exhibit, but she couldn’t figure out who it might belong to. “I’m Aphrodite.” She said it so certainly it was as if she was declaring that was her actual name, not her costume inspiration. Was she really wrong? “And you?”

Delphine said nothing in response to the blonde’s question but offered her a polite smile. Her costume screamed Greek Goddess but she couldn’t tell which.“Finally, someone is putting gold leaves to good use,” she exhaled. “You can see those on food nowadays and it’s just…tasteless.”

“Aphrodite, of course,” she nodded. “The late Princess Grace of Monaco. She’s been a role model of mine since I was very young.”  

For a while, Yvonne was worried she might have overdressed for the occasion. After all, she was there in a big ass white ball gown living her Princess Diaries fantasy while everyone else came in tamer suits, superhero costumes and sleek dresses. Perhaps the only exception was the woman who came as a giant cake and brought an actual one to match. Her worries soon abated however when she spotted someone in an equally dramatic white attire.

Approaching the female, Yvonne smiled when the blonde initiated a conversation. “Mia, from Princess Diaries,” she answered. Only upon closer look did Yvonne pick up more similarities between their chosen costumes, which amused her more than anything. “Your dress is stunning, by the way. Who are you going as?”

Delphine’s eyes widened when she finally took in the woman next to her. She was wearing a costume that was identical to hers. The only differences were the star sash and fur Delphine was wearing and maybe the details of the gown too. The fact that the other woman was a Rutherford made it worse. “Well,” Delphine said, trying to keep her composure even when her blood was coming to a full boil. “Can’t say I’ve seen that movie.”

“Delphine St. Clair,” she announced while extending her right hand which was covered in clean white evening glove. Thank God.

Now there Delphine was, gliding into the already crowded venue. The Tower of London. How apt. The second she entered, the blonde did a quick scan as per usual, to see just who were in attendance. The costumes look very good, some were very creative and funny. She noticed Jack Katz the comedian in his Where’s Waldo? costume, and Delphine was rather impressed by the Giraffe costume Cassandra Acton was donning.

“Halloween. A chance to come as someone other than yourself. How compelling. And who are you supposed to be?” she asked the stranger standing next to her before turning to actually look at their costume.

For The Children Charity Hallowe’en Bash

Dressed As: H.S.H Grace, The Princess of Monaco

Dressed In:

Gown: Custom Christian Dior Haute Couture

Fur: Yves Salomon

Accessories: (mock-up of) The sash and star of the order of St. Charles (Monégasque dynastic order of knighthood)

It wasn’t exactly his thing, but to each their own, he thought to himself, nursing his bottle quietly. He swallowed his mouthful, letting the taste linger on his mouth first. It’d been awhile since he’d had a drink, having been working around the clock, and he appreciated every drop like man who’d wandered the dessert with no water. “Two more!” Andrew called over the crowd, setting his empty bottle on the bartender’s side of the counter, turning back to his impromptu company. He didn’t take her for a beer kind of woman- she seemed too …. Sophisticated. Most days, he’d say he was too, but the trip had been too long and draining for him to care at that particular moment. “Delphine,” He said with a small smile, “That certainly is a name I don’t hear often. Fancy parents, or are you not from around here? I’d say I’d have recognized you if you were, but this place is too new to use that line.” He gave her a cheeky smile, nodding to the bartender in appreciation once the two fresh bottles were set before them. He grabbed his own, taking a light pull from it. 

Delphine finished her drink as the man sitting opposite from her ordered a round of beer. “Thank you,” she told him. She knew what people say about beer and before Bali, she would most definitely agree with them. Beer was a culture of its own in Bali and she grew accustomed to the particular drink not long after she arrived there.

“I’m not from around here,” she told him, also taking the time to thank the bartender before he left them to continue their conversation. “I hailed from Paris. I was born and bred there and moved here a few…months ago.”Don’t ask why I moved here, she prayed. She probably shouldn’t have revealed so much to a stranger. She probably shouldn’t even reveal her name. But then again, she only gave him her first name and he didn’t ask for her last. Delphine smiled back at him, noticing for the first time how incredibly handsome he was. “Oh, I see. So if we were in any other bar, you’d use that line?”

When she turned towards him, he took a second glance. She wasn’t who he was expecting, and the way she carried herself conveyed both confidence and comfortability. Before him was a woman comfortable in her own skin, and in her surroundings. “Enticing?” He said with a raised eyebrow, “Depends on your definition of bite, I suppose. I’ve known a couple girls who gave some pretty sharp nips.” “I’m Alan, by the way. When you’re finished with that one, can I buy you a drink?”

“Of course, it’s enticing,” she said, ever so nonchalantly. The man sitting next to her was a good looking man and the woman he was waiting for was clearly either stupid. She wanted to give the faceless, dumb stranger the benefit of the doubt and say she had another pressing matter to attend to but figured she would’ve at least let him know had that been the case. “They say you don’t know pleasure until you feel pain but I’m telling you, they’re wrong. Pain is pleasure sometimes.”

“Pleasure to meet you, Alan. My name is Delphine,” she told him. “And I never turn down drink offers. I’ll take whatever you’re having next.”

Olivier knew that the idea of going anywhere the next day would be a stiff, sore chore, but it’d need to be done. If he waited longer it might only get worse. He knew who at the gym would be best to talk with so he’d likely go the next afternoon, though he wasn’t going to touch so much as a two pound weight. At the suggestion of an ice pack, he laughed and shook his head. “I’ll just wait until the morning for something more substantial,” he said, as if they weren’t on the verge of the morning already.

When Delphine went still, Olivier mimicked it and didn’t move a muscle. And he didn’t move his hand. He waited to see what Delphine might say or do. When nothing happened even after he’d seen where her eyes dropped, he tried to suppress a chuckle but couldn’t. He wasn’t here to stare into her eyes and dream and hope she might see his inner goodness. He was here to have a good time after he beat some bastard into the ground.

“I’m off duty,” he reminded her before moving his hand from her leg to her neck and pulled her in to kiss her. He was human and he’d thought about this before, much more frequently in Bali and rarely in the occasionally tense months since their return. There were other things to concern themselves with and in the morning those things would take precedence again, but if anytime was right to do this, it was in the fuzzy hours between night and day when they both had nothing else to worry about.

Two things came into her mind the second Olivier’s lips touch hers. One was fucking finally and the second was that there was no turning back. Their dynamic since Bali was different than the one they had before and while Delphine had never given this much thought, she couldn’t say she hadn’t all together. There were moments in Bali where she thought it was going to happen but didn’t. But now it was happening and she couldn’t care less about what would happen after. Delphine was, for sure, not waiting for anything romantic to happen. She wasn’t looking for love, she wasn’t looking for romance. She never needed nor wanted any of that. What she knew she wanted was him.

The rest of the ride home was spent with much less talking and more kissing. It wasn’t until the car came to a complete stop that she finally pulled away from the kiss. Delphine would usually wait for her driver or her bodyguard to get out of the car and open the door for her but tonight she didn’t wait for anybody. Her driver was too busy trying to pretend he hadn’t seen the whole make-out session between her and Olivier and as for her bodyguard? He was off duty. 

Her two loyal dogs were waiting in the foyer when she walked in. What really surprised her was the fact that her housekeeper was awake. After saying a quick hello to her dogs, she asked her housekeeper to keep the dogs downstairs, claiming she and Olivier had a very pressing matter to attend to, which wasn’t entirely a lie. 

Once she got upstairs and out of the housekeeper’s sight, Delphine immediately moved towards her bedroom, stopping just outside the door. “Now, where were we?” she asked before pressing her lips against Olivier’s once again. 

“Seeing as my date is now-” Andrew checked his watch briefly before taking another sip from his bottle- “47 minutes late, the seats’ available if you want it.” Andrew sat beside the only open seat at the very crowded bar; The Underground had given London quite the good impression with its grand opening and he was interested enough to have made reservations for the night. “I don’t bite,” He said with a half smile. “Usually.” 

“She’s not late,” Delphine said as she took the offered seat and ordered a glass of wine. Usually, she’d rather die than to come to a Rutherford-owned establishment and contribute to their income, but her interior decorator friend insisted she wanted to try out the new place so she complied. “She’s standing you up. Not a very bright one, is she?”

Delphine took a sip of her wine, a Pinot Grigio and then placed her glass back on the counter. “That’s unfortunate. Bites can be quite enticing.”

Melissa only smiled at the woman’s compliment, however backhanded it was. “I get that a lot,” she said with a small nod. And she did – Melissa wasn’t ignorant to the fact she had a reputation for being cold and calculated. Soulless, as her ex-husband once put it. However, there was no denying she delivered the results asked of her, and whatever she lacked in adoration from her peers, she had more than made up for with the respect – or fear – from her rivals. Quite frankly, that was how she preferred it. “Unfortunate how alliances work that way. If it’s any consolation, you’re not as bad as your compatriots.”

Even Melissa had to snicker. Sure. “If that’s the case, then you certainly have a lot to look forward to while you’re here.”

Delphine chuckled at what the woman just said. She was almost a-hundred-percent certain it was meant as a compliment and so she took it as such. “Oh I’m glad you noticed,” she said with a grin. She wasn’t sure if it was because Melissa was a good observer or if it was because she reminded Delphine of herself, but she was one of the very few people who had managed to acknowledge how Delphine differed from her colleagues. Whether she meant it or not was a different story. “I am not as bad as them. I’m worse.”