LOVE IS AN INTERNAL ARGUMENT: #ballerinaromance🩷

Some debates are not fought out loud, sometimes it's in silence.

Some arguments happen in the heart.

And sometimes love is worth losing every defense for...

..

Aliana — Chapter One

I’m Aliana Valencourt, heiress to a beauty and lifestyle empire—though “heiress” feels far more dramatic than my life actually is.

My oldest sister, Adriana Valencourt–Ashborne, is the perfect blend of beauty and brains. Sophisticated, independent, strong-willed. Practically good at everything. I still remember when she did a musical just to add something “well-rounded” to her college resume… and of course, she had a voice that made the entire school suspicious she’d been professionally trained. She’s tough on the outside but loving underneath—our human sour patch kid.

My other sister, Arabella, is our bright light. Loyal, supportive, confident. The theatre kid who was also somehow the cheerleader, the girl everyone knows and gravitates toward. Now she’s in commercials, modeling in our family’s ads, and generally being a star without even trying.

I love them both. I look up to them. And then there’s me.

Aliana.

The baby sister.

The “cute,” quiet one according to the tabloids.

Bookworm and former ballet dancer.

The one who slips out of photos rather than into them.

The past year flipped our world upside down. Some for the best, some for the worst after the Valencourt and Ashborne empires merged. I gained a brother-in-law I adore and, by extension, his two best friends: Soren and Atticus Everheart. The heirs to the Everheart hotel dynasty. The three of them are practically a trio of intimidating perfection.

I’ve always preferred the quiet corners of life—the back row, the soft light, a book instead of a room full of people. My sisters inherited the spotlight; I inherited the comfort of being unnoticed.

Youngest daughter of the Valencourt beauty empire.

Former ballerina.

Current bookworm and proud background character.

But today… the background feels a little crowded.

Because right now, I’m standing at the Ashborne–Valencourt Hotel Gala—an event my mother insisted I attend—dressed in a gown and pretending I don’t see the cameras scanning the room for heirs, scandals, and headlines.

And then he appears at my side.

Atticus Everheart.

A charming smile. A dark suit. A presence that pulls eyes the way gravity pulls stars. Ever since the merger, he’s been this brilliant contrast to my quiet—louder, brighter, easier with people in a way I’ve never been.

“Trying to disappear again?” he murmurs, offering me a drink.

Of course he noticed.

He always notices.

Worse, he never lets me get away with it.

I don’t know when we started getting closer.

Maybe it was the late-night family dinners.

Maybe the business meetings he tagged along to.

Maybe the way he always ended up in the seat next to mine—like it was a coincidence.

Maybe it was him.

Maybe it was me.

…Okay, no, it was definitely him.

But closeness with Atticus Everheart?

That was inevitable.

---

Continuation — Aliana POV

“Trying to disappear again?” he murmurs, offering me a drink.

I take it, careful not to brush his fingers. “I wish,” I say, letting out the softest breath. “Well… you look like you’re having fun.”

A pause.

“I think?”

He laughs under his breath—quiet, warm and when I glance up, there’s something flickering behind his playful expression. Something honest.

“Fun at the beginning,” Atticus says, eyes scanning the crowd with a hint of exhaustion. “Eventually you get tired of the people. The questions. The attention.”

The word attention lands like a dropped stone.

Because he’s always in it.

And I’ve spent my entire life avoiding it.

His gaze returns to me, gentler this time too gentle, which is dangerous. “You’re not going to last an hour here, are you?”

“That’s optimistic,” I mutter.

He grins, and there’s the spark the one that makes everyone look at him without him trying. The one that should annoy me but somehow doesn’t.

“Come on,” he says, leaning closer just enough that I can smell cedar and something warm. “Wanna get out of here?”

My breath catches not enough for him to notice, but enough for me to feel frustrated with myself.

Because this is exactly the kind of moment I avoid.

And exactly the kind Atticus Everheart never hesitates to create.

Before I can answer, someone calls his name from across the room. He doesn’t look away from me not immediately. Not until he absolutely has to.

And it leaves something fluttering low in my stomach.

Something I don’t want.

Something I can’t trust.

Something that feels inevitable.