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beauty was one of the few things in her life that Lucia secretly enjoyed.  There was something liberating about appreciating one’s own good looks. 
    Out of defiance, Lucia stood before the wardrobe placing the red velvet dress back into the closet, and retrieving the black silky gown.  Sliding its cold satin material up over lean hips, she was amazed at how well the dress fit, almost as if it were tailored to her shape.  She slid her bare feet into flat satin slippers that perfectly matched the gown.  She was impressed that whoever ordered the garment had the foresight to realize that with her bad leg she wouldn’t be able to walk in high heels. 
    With the assistance of her cane, Lucia crossed the room to stand in front of the full-length mirror that hung on the bathroom door.  She felt exquisite and looked the part.  One of the reasons she had chosen the black gown was that it came with matching elbow length evening gloves.  They would suffice to disguise her burned hands, but her smile faded as she slowly approached the mirror and realized that the gown’s plunging neckline left her scarred neck and cheek in plain view.  Frustrated, Lucia crossed back over to the closet and threw the doors open. 
    Quickly, flipping through the several dresses that were brought up earlier in the day, Lucia searched for something with a higher neckline or at least something less revealing.  Nothing. They were all the same, with drastically plunging necklines and spaghetti straps if they had straps at all.  Clearly, whoever had the foresight to realize that she wouldn’t be able to wear high-heels due the wreck, didn’t have the prudence to think that she would be embarrassed of her scars.  One thing she knew for sure was that she didn’t want to experience another confrontation with Draken like the one earlier that day. 
    With that thought, a knock sounded at the door and Patrick announced from behind the closed door, “Mr. Shatan is ready to accompany you to dinner.” 
    Despair filled Lucia’s frantic eyes.  Hurriedly, she limped over to the dressing mirror, leaned over the table, and pulled the onyx pin that held long dark curls atop her head.  As her jet-black hair cascaded down around her shoulders, she quickly tried to use the long locks to cover her neck and sighed in frustration as Patrick again knocked, this time louder and announced more firmly, “Lady Lucia, Mr. Shatan is prepared to escort you to dinner.” 
    As if time had stopped, Lucia stood just staring at her reflection in the mirror, deaf to Patrick’s announcement, which was closely followed by a loud discussion and her bedroom door being thrown open for the second time that day. 
    Draken stormed in, filling the room with his massive frame handsomely featured in a crisp white dress shirt covered by a tailored black suit.  He crossed the room quickly.  Leaning over Lucia, who was still bent over the dressing table. 
    She could smell his soap and it reminded her of the scent of a fresh spring rain. 
    Draken placed his hands firmly on the dressing table and peered down at her with his dark eyes evenly set under perfect black brows, “Now what?  I warned you about crossing me Lucia.” 
    She didn’t raise her eyes from her gloved hands.  “I’m not coming to dinner,” she stated evenly.
    “The hell your not,” Draken boomed.  He pulled her up from her chair and saw her wince as his grasp tightened around the same spot on her arms that he had bruised earlier in the day.  He slightly loosened his grip and his look of anger turned to concern as her usually defiant gaze refused to meet his.  “What’s wrong?” he asked. 
    Lucia let a moment pass and took a deep breath before stating evenly, “I don’t want anyone to see me like this.  I don’t want to…repulse anyone, especially when they are dining.  The make-up can’t cover it up and I don’t know how to hide it.” 
    Draken let his eyes drift down to her scarred neck