Princess

Chapter 33: The Least Valuable Ryder

Francis dipped his chin, evaluating my face. He was one of my best friends–I didn't need to force a smile with him. "You doing okay?"

This man was so perceptive, it was so pointless to hide anything from him so I just shrugged and said, "I guess."

"Ariadne," he said slowly, his voice a warning.

I suppressed the smallest smile. "You know how much I hate these events."

Francis trailed a thumb over his lower lip, nodding. "I do too."

"You handle it a lot better than I do."

A smile pulled on his lips. "That's because no one cares about me when my wife is around. She's too beautiful, too charismatic, too Isabella Marie Ryder for people to notice I'm standing right next to her."

Something like a laugh made its way up my throat. "Makes sense."

When both of us noticed yet another person making his way toward both of us, Francis grabbed my arm and dragged me to the dance floor. Within a heartbeat we were dancing in the middle of the room, away from the leering eyes of everyone else, the place where the two of us could take a break from being social, being talkative, being human.

Not many people understood me the way Francis Duval did.

I had no idea how much time had passed before he asked, "You gonna tell me what you're thinking about?"

"You telling me you don't already know?" I raised a disbelieving brow. Francis knew everything. All the time.

He chuckled. "I think you hate being here, you're comparing yourself to your siblings, you want your dad to be proud of you, and you miss Damon. How am I doing so far?"

"If I were a subject on a test, you'd pass with extra credit, Francis," I murmured under my breath.

"Ariadne," he said slowly. "You can talk to me, you know?"

"I do," I insisted. "I always do."

"Not really. You never complain, you never tell people what's bothering you. It's always intrigued me because you are arguably one of the most eloquent people I know–someone who has an exceptional way with words, and yet you do not use them to express yourself."

An unsteady breath escaped me. "It's hard not to compare myself to them."

"Christian and Bella?"

I nodded, throat tight. "It doesn't come to me the way it does for them. It's not that easy for me to talk to people, to get them to love me the way they seem to naturally love every single other member of the Ryder family. All the way from Dad to Mom to Claudia... literally everyone, Francis."

Those greens bore into mine as he moved us across the floor with finesse. Despite the rough upbringing Francis had, he'd assimilated fairly well to the life of the New York elite–no one would guess he wasn't always living in this kind of wealth.

I chewed my lip so hard I was almost sure it was going to bleed. "Being in this family can be hard sometimes."

He smiled down at me. "I know. Believe me, I know."

Of course he knew. "How do you do it?"

"Don't know if I do it at all," he said, eyes drifting to wherever my sister was probably charming someone to donate a couple million dollars for tonight's fundraiser–lung cancer, the same kind that took my mom. "Every day I think I'm not good enough for your sister. And everyday she shows me that she loves me in different ways. I have no fucking idea what I'd do without her."