Only One Night

By verm1llion

101K 885 741

This is a story about a thousand year old royal vampire and a twenty six year old human woman. They have been... More

1| ...One Club
2| ...One Kidnapper?
3| ...One Game
4| ...One Assignment
6| ...One Drive
7| ...One Party
8| ...One Party
9| ... One Party
10| ...One Irritation
11| ...One Interesting Answer
12|...One Foolish Hope
13|...One Absurd Thought
14| ...One Tour

5| ...One Dress

3.7K 66 46
By verm1llion

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Serina holds the red dress close to my body, scrutinizing me from head to toe with her keen fashion sense. A moment passes until she finally shakes her head, disapproving of the dress, "Nope. Not this one either. You need something blue to make those pretty eyes pop."

I groan, annoyed, "That's like the fifth dress!"

She wiggles her finger at me as she makes a tsking noise, "Perfection takes time, and you need to be perfect if you plan on wooing these people."

I roll my eyes.

I knew I shouldn't have told her about my concerns regarding the assignment, but what else am I supposed to do when faced with such an important matter? Obviously, I'm going to call my best friend right after, and that's what I did. We talked on the phone as I read through the rest of the file. Serina seemed to be against the idea of me attending a party hosted by the Nights.

I had no idea she felt any way about the rich family.

It's shocking how diligent she is now when just yesterday she opposed me attending this party. But, this morning she was fine with the idea, ecstatic even, and hellbent on getting us the perfect outfits. We only have today to pick something out with the party being tomorrow. Very short notice but Serina would work her magic.

I still don't know if Alastair is truly Alastair Night or not. I'm too much of a scaredy-cat to text him. It's been two days since we last spoke. What if he is a Night and this whole time he's been planning to take me as his date tomorrow but I flaked on him? God, it would be so embarrassing to show up as someone else, under a fake identity, and he be there to recognize me.

Fuck. Should I text him? The card in my back pocket feels heavy all of a sudden—the decision weighing down on me.

Rina is still scavenging through racks of dresses, hidden in a sea of cloth. I won't have much time, but I grab the card from my pocket and my cell phone from the other anyway. The phone unlocks with face ID and I quickly tap on the cell app, typing the number on the card lightning-fast.

I click the call button. It rings, and just when it is about to hit voicemail—

He picks up, "Hello?"

Oh god, his voice sounds so good. Did he just wake up? Did he always have that deep baritone with slight gravel? I still haven't quite placed where his accent is from.

Stop it! Focus!

"Hey, Alastair, it's me-

"Roselynn?" He interrupts.

"Yeah," I laugh. How the hell did he figure out it was me so fast?

There's shuffling on the other line before he speaks again, worry mixed with joy is clear in his tone, "I'm delighted you called. Are you alright? Has something happened?"

Why would he be worrying about me?

I shake my head but quickly begin to speak once I realize he can't see me, "No, no. I just wanted to reach out about, uh, being your date. Is that offer still on the table?"

He takes in a sharp breath, "Of course. I was hoping you would call but, if I'm honest, I would have reached out soon if you hadn't. I can only wait so long."

"And how would you have done that? I don't remember giving you my number." I reply with a smile on my face for some odd reason.

"I have my ways," he chuckles and my smile grows wider.

I'm sure you do.

"So, when is this event?" I ask.

I can hear him curse under his breath, "It's tomorrow. Short notice, I know. If you had called sooner I would have been able to get you better prepared. But, that doesn't matter. Since you are willing to come I can take care of everything quickly, no worries."

Tomorrow as in the same tomorrow where I am supposed to be attending the mysterious Night family's event. Fuck me. 

"Yeah, I'm sorry for reaching out so late," I glance around. Rina is still out of sight.

"No need to apologize. If you'd like, I can pick you up, and if you have nothing to wear I can have something arranged."

"You're going to be my chauffeur?" I joke.

He laughs, "I can be whatever you want me to be, and more."

Butterflies. Fucking butterflies. I clear my throat, trying to think of something witty to say in return but he speaks first.

"How does six in the afternoon, tomorrow, sound?" He asks.

"Sounds perfect--

A hand taps on my shoulder, interrupting my call with Alastair. I whip my head around to see a confused Serina, her brows drawn in and dresses stacked on each of her arms, "Who's that on the phone?"

Fuck.

"Uh- I'll have to call you back," I say before hanging up and giving her my attention.

I wave her question off, "Oh just some scammer."

She doesn't look convinced, "Okay... But-

I interrupt her, pointing at the beautiful dress choices in her hands, "Woah! These are all so gorgeous! How will I choose?"

She looks down at the dresses, "I found one I really like at the back of the racks, thought the color would bring out your eyes."

I grab all the dresses from her, "Then I'll have to try them on!"

Why did I lie to her?

-

I do another spin per Rina's request and she finally claps her hands in approval, "This dress was made for you baby!"

She's right. It fits me like a glove and the color does wonders for my tan skin.

The dress is a dark blue, and its texture is satin which feels silky against my skin. It reaches my ankles and has a slit that shows off my right thigh. The neckline stoops down a bit and shows off my inner breasts. It's a bit more revealing than I would usually wear. It's backless and risky, but beautiful nonetheless.

"I think this one is the winner," Rina says with a wide smile.

I gaze at my reflection in the fitting room mirror, "I'm going to have to agree."

Serina jumps from the bench, "This dress needs sparkly shoes! I saw the perfect pair just a minute ago. I'll be right back," she swiftly exits the fitting room without another word.

I take her brief absence as a time to scrutinize myself, running my hands along the dress, and pressing the cloth to my skin. It's cool to the touch but the fabric warms where it rests on top of my hot flesh. The dress shows off every bit of my curves but isn't skin-tight. It's perfect.

However, despite the perfect dress, my insecurities threaten to spill in at the sight. I try to push them back, to the darkest corners of my mind. As far as I'm concerned they can die there. I look way too good to be anxious about how it tugs a little weirdly in certain places and that my arms are a bit too harry.

Before I can begin to focus on every detail that makes me want to curl up in a ball and cry, Rina comes back with a pretty pair of shoes.

She was so right about the sparkles.

-

"Thanks for finding the perfect dress. I'd be lost without you Rina," I thank Serina before stepping out of her car with my shopping bags in hand.

"Don't mention it Rosy. So about tomorrow, am I picking you up or?" She asks, her hands resting in her lap instead of on the wheel.

I smile apologetically, "Usually I would say yes, but this is a work thing so we have to come in separately. You're on the list though."

Except now, it's both a work thing and a date thing.

She nods her head, "I understand. Save me a dance?"

"Of course."

She blows me a kiss before driving off.

I watch her pull out of the lot before starting my trek up the three flights of stairs that lead to my apartment—the elevator is out of order. When I get to the familiar red door I notice a package waiting for me. Confused, I pick it up and examine the box. There's a note attached to the outside, tied to a red ribbon. I open the note with caution.

"Short notice. I hope it suits your tastes. Yours, Alastair."

The writing is elegant like it was perfected over centuries. I'm assuming Alastair is the one who wrote the note, and of course, it would make sense for him to have such perfect handwriting, just another thing added to his list of never-ending perfection. I'm not even jealous like I would be, given the chicken scratch I write. Instead, I'm just in awe.

I set the package down, place my shopping bags on top, and unlock my door. Once opened I bring everything in and lock the door again. I flip my lights on and set the package down on my kitchen counter. I remove my shopping bags from on top of the box and set them to the side as I grab a pair of kitchen scissors from my drawer, curiosity killing me.

I quickly cut open the package, and behind the smooth black cardboard is a shit ton of red tissue paper. I tear away at the paper, patience has been thrown out the door. Beneath all that fluffy, annoying, tissue is a remarkably beautiful dress. Without a doubt more beautiful than the one I just bought.

I hold the dress in the air, my kitchen light illuminating it in a soft golden glow. The fabric is velvety and much thicker than the one in my shopping bags. Its color is a lighter blue, matching closer to my eye color than navy. It's long and definitely would reach the floor if I put it on. The dress is strapless with a tied back, laced together like a corset, and the waist is cinched to accentuate the wearer's hips. The neckline is not as steep and the inside is padded—the boob-popping kind of padding.

It's beautiful. Too beautiful. There's no way I can accept this.

I lay the dress on my counter gently, and glance back at the box. I catch the corner of another box peeking from behind the tissue paper left inside. I reach for it. It's about the weight of a pair of shoes. I open it.

My eyes widen in even more awe. The shoes. Oh god, the shoes.

They look like they were plucked straight out of Cinderella but instead of glass, they were made with diamonds. The heels have to be at least five inches and studded with glittering gems. Fuck—the whole shoe is covered in sparkling diamonds.

What about the dress and shoes I just bought?

I quickly set the shoes down and grab my phone, dialing Alastair's number.

He picks up after one ring, "Did you see my gift? Is it-

I interrupt him, nearly out of breath with stress, "Alastair! What were you thinking getting me something that looks like it belongs on a runway model at a Paris fashion show?!"

He chuckles, his deep voice igniting heat in my abdomen, "If it's for you, I would pluck a dress from a goddess herself. You deserve no less."

I swallow, blushing at his words and at a loss for my own.

"Is it to your liking? If not, I can send something else. If it's the color, please, tell me what you would-

"No!" I interrupt, "Sorry. Uhm, the dress is perfect, but-

He chuckles again, "I'm happy you find it satisfactory. Do not worry about the price or whatever else has you questioning your worth of the dress. All that matters is whether you fancy it or not."

I sigh, picking at the skin on my finger as my anxiety weighs down on me, "I can't wear it. I'm sorry, Alastair."

His tone shifts, unsure and concerned, "Why not? Is it the wrong size? Or perhaps the length is a bit much?"

"It's not that," I rub my temples, "I just—it's too much. We hardly know each other and you bought me such an expensive gift. Plus I went shopping with my friend and already bought something. I'm sorry. I just can't."

He hums, "I understand your concerns. As I said before, don't worry about the price, and as for us hardly knowing each other, I'm sure we can fix that. I plan on getting to know you very well Roselynn, if you feel the same of course."

We can't, not if you're Alastair Night. Oh god. What am I doing?

He pauses, "However, since you already bought a dress. I suppose that means you'll have a decision to make. Whether you choose the one I gifted to you or not, I'm sure you will look absolutely divine."

"Wait-

He ends the call. Fuck my life. What am I going to do?

I can't be getting butterflies for a man over a fucking phone call; not even if his voice is as deep, dreamy, alluring, and husky as Alastair's.

I can't.

I feel my phone vibrate in my hand, so I check immediately with furrowed brows of confusion but as I see the notification is a text from the man I just talked to, my heart starts pacing and the furrow in my brows turns into a softened expression.


There's a wide smile on my face as I reread our text messages. How is it that a man could be so considerate? He fucking sent an apology text for hanging up on me because he didn't want to hear me say the dress is too good for me? Where did this man come from? Never in my twenty-six years has a man done that before.

I wait a moment for his reply but when a few minutes pass I assume that's the end of our short conversation. I set my phone on the counter and focus on the problem at hand. My eyes go back and forth between the shopping bags and Alastair's very generous gifts.

On one hand, a dress that was decided upon and approved by my best friend and is absolutely beautiful. On the other hand, a dress that was gifted by a man who might be my key to becoming an A-list journalist and perhaps be even more beautiful than the first dress.

Not to mention the shoes, both are sparkly and gorgeous. Yet one is glitter and the other is fucking diamonds. Diamonds are a girl's best friend after all. Right lady Marilyn?

I glance back and forth between the two, my mind hurting from all the pressure of such a severe choice.

Fuck this. I can't decide. Let's sleep on it.

-

11-15-22

this chapter is sooooo much better then before, jesus the writing was terrible! y didn't y'all tell me 😠

anywyayaysysyss i'm sure you realized if you're an old reader but there's some new content with al and rose! A TEXT CONVOO!! aren't they so cute 😩 i wanted to add some more cute romancy moments hehehe, did i achieve that??

down below is their text convo typed out in case the pics aren't accessible to you.

- - -
6:30 PM

Alastair: My apologies for ending the call so abruptly. I knew if the conversation continued you would have kept giving reasons as to why you are not deserving of the dress, which is simply not tolerable, as you are the most deserving.

Alastair: Also, this is me, Alastair.

Roselynn: ik lolol, there's noone that speaks so eloquently that ik

Alastair: Ah, should I try to speak less formal? To fit in with the people you usually speak to.

Roselynn: no, it's sorta cute

Alastair: You think that I am cute?

Roselynn: possibly heh

Alastair: How do I send an emoticon?

Roselynn: you don't know?

Alastair: No. Is this common knowledge?

Roselynn: it should be lol

Alastair: I see. It appears I am lacking in the ways of technology. Perhaps you may do me the courtesy of teaching me?

Roselynn: ofc! :P

Alastair: I know how to do those! :3

Roselynn: wow, you're so technologically advanced

-

ily guys MUAHMUAHMUAH

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