THE PREP

DAMIAN’S POV

I tapped my fingers impatiently on the steering wheel, glancing at my phone as it buzzed again.

My father’s name flashed on the screen. I could almost hear his voice scolding me for being late to the “Event of the Century,” as he had called it.

The man should be grateful that I lend him some of my time out of my respect for him. If it was left to me, I wouldn’t show up at all. It wasn’t my pleasure to be around his old business associates, who tend to be nosy, and my father’s snobby wife, Evelyn, my stepmother. The wench!

I declined the call, knowing fully well that I wouldn’t need to answer his many questions if I didn’t want to.

No one could make me do anything; I’m the one with exclusive power, not anyone else. And that’s the respect that comes with it.

“Women….” I muttered under my breath, mentally cussing myself out for bringing Lexie to the house she had shared with her friend, Claudia, Jenny, or whatever.

I still mentally scolded myself for making myself available to drop her off, she could come by herself anyways.

She claimed she still had some of her things to pick up, certainly clothes because I almost never see her wear the clothes that were made available for her.

I’d still have to tell her to trash the things she packed later; no wife of mine would wear clothes that seemed like they were shared at a bus stop.

Not even a fake wife.

I didn’t have time for this; the event was critical.

It was the perfect moment to spite my runaway wife, Victoria. We were supposed to be getting ready to plan our marriage but then she vanished. She just left, no traces, she wouldn’t answer her phone or reply her texts.

If she didn’t want the marriage she could just say it, why leave me hanging?

She proposed to me after all…

And I would be petty enough to pull her back here….

And to be frank, I never planned to go just to honour my father. I was going for other reasons known to me.

Finally, the front door opened, and Lexie rushed out, fumbling with a large bag. She got into the car, slightly out of breath.

“I’m sorry I delayed you.” she said, her cheeks flushed.

I didn’t respond; I just pulled away from the curb and found my route back to the main road.

My mind drifted to the first time I had seen her; she had been so innocent and so clumsy. The way she clung to the pole, I could see her dissatisfaction.

She didn’t want to be there, but she wanted something and wouldn’t leave until she got it.

She could hide her thoughts, but they’d still show on her face. She was different from the polished, calculating women I was used to. She was real, unpretentious.

And that was a rare quality for me; she looked like she could defy me, and I wouldn’t be upset because no one dared to.

Besides, she was perfect for the camera; she just needed a little touch-up.

**********

The car came to a halt, which seemed to distract Lexie from the little sightseeing she was so engrossed in.

One look at her, and I couldn’t help but be proud of myself. I had defiled her and deflowered her. It was my first time fucking a virgin; I never knew they were good, maybe too good even.

“Is everything okay? I noticed that we stopped,” she asked.

“Get down….” I answered coldly,

A mental schedule was needed to remind me that she was sweet, but not sweet enough for me to fall for her. She was different, yes, but not enough.

“EVE’S SECRETS”

One of the most expensive boutiques in all of New York, if I wanted something perfect for her to wear, they’d have it.

I opened the car door for her, and she got down gently. She was trying her best to keep her gaze from meeting mine.

“Why are we here?” she asked.

“You need a change of clothes... and that pile of nothing you call clothes isn’t coming home with me,” I answered and walked into the store.

“Welcome to Eve’s secrets; how may we glam you?” The attendant asked with a broad smile, but when I turned to face her, the confidence washed down her face.

She recognized me and said, “Mr. Valor, welcome, sir!” One of the managers greeted her, her voice practically oozing with deference.

I waved them down slightly.

“Bring out the best you’ve got. Make her stunning, and make all the dresses from a specific brand; I don’t want a brand I’m not familiar with.

“You have twenty minutes.”

The staff scattered, moving with a sense of urgency that I found mildly satisfying. If I couldn’t torture my snobby stepmother, I could as well mentally torture her staff.

“If it’s not costly, I don’t want it." I walked towards a lounge area and sat down patiently on the couch, my legs crossed.

“Would you like some refreshments, Mr. Valor?" The manager asked.

“Martell Cognac…”

“What about you, ma’am?” She turned to Lexie.

“She’d have the same thing I’m having.”

The manager picked up a small bell and rang it. Two other attendants who worked in the bar section of the boutique rushed to me. Did I mention that the boutique was large and had sections?

“I don’t drink; I can’t handle liquor.” Lexie stated.

“That’s why you would drink under my supervision.” It was as simple as that.

She laid back against the couch gently; her expression quickly changed into an overwhelmed one, her eyes wide as racks of clothes and accessories were wheeled out.

I was sure that she couldn’t make sense of what was happening and why they were rushing to my every order.

“These are our finest collections, and they would look really stunning on you, miss.” One of the attendants, whose name was Elle according to her name tag, said this to Lexie.

I signaled to another of the attendants; she came swiftly, and I whispered in her ear, then she left.

Lexie reached for a dress—a simple yet elegant number—but I stopped her; my hand gently brushed hers aside.

“Not that one,” I said, my tone firm.

Lexie stood up and grabbed the cloth I had handpicked. Elle wrapped her arms around her shoulder and walked her into the dressing room.

I sipped from the glass in front of me as my eyes took a quick glance at the Cartier on my wrist.

With each minute that passed, we were getting even more late for the event. I couldn’t care less; I enjoyed the last-minute entry, a man of the hour.

Two minutes later, Lexie walked out back with Elle, and I pressed a big red buzzer mentally.

The dress was a no; she didn’t like it either, and I could tell. Why did it look better when she hadn’t worn it?

“I don’t think it’s my style,” she said, shaking her head. “I don’t like red.”

“We have various options for you to try; how about this casual bodycon bandage dress?” Elle held out a sleeveless, peach-coloured dress, and it was impressive.

I selected a few outfits from the ones on the couch and handed them to her. I knew some would complement my own outfits when she wore them, and we stood together at the event.

Her hesitation was evident, but she didn’t argue. Instead, she took the dresses I handed her and headed towards the dressing room.

I followed, much to the surprise of the staff, but no one dared to comment.

“I think I can handle this on my own, sir,“ she said, turning to face me at the door of the dressing room.

“I don’t care what you think; now strip.”

Her mouth opened to argue further, but the little growl from me silenced her. With a reluctant sigh, she entered the dressing room.

I followed her inside and watched as she took off her clothes. The way her hands shook when she was searching through the clothes made me know that my presence made her nervous.

There was a knock on the door, and the attendant I had whispered to earlier handed me the special outfit I requested of her.

I turned to Lexie, holding up the black lingerie.

“Wear this,” I said.

She looked at it, then at me, confusion evident in her eyes.

“Why? You can’t just make me do things; it’s not in the agreement.” She snapped,

It wasn’t a surprise to me that she’d try to defy me.

“I have no time to read you the agreement that you yourself signed without being forced.” I barked angrily,

“And yes, I can make you do things, because my word is your law now.” I demanded.

Her eyes widened slightly at my tone, but she nodded in defeat and snatched the lingerie from me.

She put it on, and I watched in satisfaction. Then she wore one of the dresses; the rich, deep blue fabric clung to her curves, highlighting her natural beauty.

She looked at herself in the mirror and then turned to me for approval.

“So?” she swallowed.

“Perfect,” I said, my voice low.

“This is the one; you’ll wear this tonight.”

She walked out of the dressing room, and I followed suit. I could tell that she was getting frustrated with me. She could defy me, and I wanted more of it.

“Have you found the perfect dress, sir?” Elle asked.

It is the event of the century after all, so why not make it count?

“Yes, all we need now is the perfect mask.”