chapter 8 The gala

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**buzz**

The gate made such a horrible sound.

Stepping outside, the cool evening air kissed my skin, a contrast to the warmth that still lingered from my hurried preparations.

The sky had deepened into a soft blue, the kind that signaled nightfall was fast approaching. I took in a breath, cooling and steadying myself as I began my walk toward the open road.

The sound of my heels clicking against the pavement echoed sharply in the quiet suburban street.

Each step felt calculated, deliberate, the rhythmic *click-clack* cutting the silence like a sharp knife.

I could feel eyes on me. People were staring, their gazes following me as I strode past, their curiosity obvious.

It wasn't hard to imagine why. I wasn’t exactly blending in. The dress I wore clung to my body for dear life in all the right ways, the sleek fabric shimmering under the fading sunlight.

My curves were accentuated, my skin glowing against the cool tones of the evening. I could feel the weight of every eye that lingered.

sometimes a little too long—men and women alike—drawn to the way I looked, as though I’d just stepped out of some glossy magazine and onto their quiet street.

least I hoped thats what they felt

A couple walking their dog paused mid-stride, eyes wide as they took in the sight of me. I could see the woman whispering something to her partner, who nodded, his gaze glued to my figure.

A mother pushing a stroller shot me a surprised look, her eyes flickering from my heels to the dress that swept against my legs. It was clear I didn’t belong here, at least not in this context. I wasn’t dressed for a stroll down the block or a casual evening walk—I was dressed for the gala.

And walking down the road in heels, draped in a gown that screamed sophistication, it felt…... awkward.......Like I had suddenly found myself on the wrong stage in a grand performance. Every click of my heels on the pavement only heightened the feeling that I was out of place.

It was hard not to feel self-conscious, my skin prickling under the weight of their stares, but I kept my chin high, pretending not to notice the attention.

That was one thing I was good at ... pretending...

The pavement stretched ahead of me, and each step felt endless. I glanced down, adjusting the delicate straps of my dress, feeling the fabric shift against my skin.

The neckline dipped more than just enough to catch the eye, but walking down a public street in something so extravagant made it all the more obvious how overdressed I was.

I caught sight of an older man leaning against his porch railing, his brow furrowed as he watched me.

"since when did I have this many neighbors?"

His gaze traveled from my heels, up to the curve of my waist, and then finally met my eyes. I gave him a slutty smile, resisting the urge to speed up my pace.

It was one of those moments where i could almost laugh at the absurdity of it all....here I was, dressed like I was about to attend the most prestigious event of the year, walking down a regular street, heels clicking on uneven pavement, dodging cracks as if my life depended on it.

Finally, as if the universe decided to take pity on me, I saw the glow of a taxi's headlights approaching from the distance. Relief flooded me. as I waved it down with all my might.

The yellow cab slowed as it neared, the driver’s eyes widening slightly as he took in my appearance. For a second, I wondered if he thought I was lost, or maybe part of some strange performance art. But he pulled over all the same, his gaze flickering between me and the rearview mirror as I approached the door.

"luxe event garage" I said commandingly

As I slid into the backseat, the soft leather cool against my skin.

I looked the part , might as well act like it .

The driver glanced at me again, but he didn’t say anything. His silence was a relief, though the adrenaline from my walk still buzzed beneath the surface, I tried to steady myself.

As the taxi pulled away from the curb, I leaned back against the seat, exhaling a breath I hadn’t realized I’d been holding. The stares, the whispers, the awkwardness of walking down the street in a gown......it was all behind me now.

Now, all that mattered was getting to the gala on time.

"here I come Tristan".

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The taxi pulled up to the garage with a smooth stop, the engine idling softly as I stared out the window at the sleek black sedan waiting under the dim street lights. It gleamed beautifully, polished to perfection, looking every bit as luxurious as I imagined. I glanced at the time on my phone.

**6:00 p.m.**and a wave of anxiety rolled through me. I was cutting it way too close.

The driver didn’t say a word. His eyes had been fixed on my boobs the entire ride , he was clearly oogling my cleavage . I was late, already. No small talk, no acknowledgment, just the eerie stare he had on my chest . I fumbled the purse in my clutch, pulling out cash for the fare, and dropped it into the small tray between the seats.

“Thanks,” I said, though my voice lacked conviction. The driver gave a barely perceptible nod, his focus already elsewhere, as if he’d forgotten I was even there.

I pushed open the door and stepped out, heels clicking on the concrete as I straightened up. The garage was eerily quiet, only the faint hum of traffic in the distance and the occasional shuffle of a mechanic or driver passing by.

My eyes locked onto the sedan a stark contrasts to the casual chaos of the garage. Its sleek black exterior screamed wealth, power, everything I was expected to embody tonight.

The driver of the sedan, a tall man with a perfectly pressed suit, stood by the door. His expression was stoic, unreadable, though I could tell by the way he checked his watch that he’d been waiting longer than he wanted to. No pleasantries, no introductions—just cold efficiency. He opened the back door with a firm, practiced motion, stepping aside without a word.

I swallowed, trying not to let the tension get to me. I was late, yes, but I looked the part. That had to count for something..... right? I smoothed down the front of my dress, a last-minute adjustment to calm my nerves, before stepping forward.

As I approached, the driver’s eyes didn’t even flicker toward me. His focus stayed straight ahead, his professionalism unyielding. I slipped into the backseat of the sedan, the door closing behind me with a soft but final thud.

The interior was as luxurious as I’d expected—plush leather, cool air, and the faint scent of something expensive. But there was no time to appreciate the details. I was already running late.

The car pulled away from the garage with barely a sound, gliding onto the road as if it floated rather than rolled. I settled back into the seat, letting out a breath. The tension in my shoulders didn’t ease, though. My heart still raced with the awareness that I was arriving on the brink of disaster.

I glanced at my reflection in the tinted window, taking stock of myself. Despite the rush, I looked flawless hair perfectly styled in loose, bouncing curls, my dress hugging every curve just right, my makeup still holding strong. But beneath the surface, I could feel the rush of adrenaline, the weight of the night ahead pressing down on me.

The driver didn’t ask for directions. He didn’t need to. The route to the gala had already been arranged—every detail of tonight was planned down to the minute. Now, all I had to do was show up and play my part.

As we sped through the city, the skyline stretched out before me, the lights twinkling against the darkening sky. I couldn’t help but think of Tristan Agress, the man who unknowingly held the key to my future. Tonight was everything....a delicate dance.....a performance that had to be flawless.

But I was ready. Or at least, I hoped I was.