THE PARTY

LEXIE’S POV

It’s been three weeks since I started living with Damian, and the life of a wealthy socialite is exactly as the common folks explained it. It was glamorous, with endless events to attend—awards to collect, auctions, and so many formal gatherings.

What I was starting to enjoy the most was spending time with Damian himself; it wasn’t his aggressiveness that drew me more into him; it was his possessiveness.

I felt like I was someone’s most prized possession for once in my life.

“You have such beautiful features, Bella,” the male stylist, Fabio, who Damian had called to come style me up, complimented in his French accent as he held my hair up.

I chuckled softly, looking in the mirror.

“You think so?” I muttered shyly, as I admired how beautiful Fabio had made me look.

My hand brushed my cheek slightly, and I flushed. I was starting to love this new life; it wasn’t me, but then I wasn’t out there hustling for my next meal.

“Of course, Mon amour.”

“Most perfect for a model—you model, right?” He asked as he worked through my hair with multiple hair sprays.

“Oh, um, no, actually. I can’t do any of those,” I replied.

“Such a shame, allowing such elegance and beauty to go to waste,” he said, as he shook his head and clicked his tongue in disappointment.

As I blushed coyly, I met an intense gaze in the mirror. It was Damian, wearing only his white shirt, and stood with his arms folded by the door as he watched us both.

“You’re here to do your job, not throw compliments at my wife,” Damian scolded. Fabio seemed taken aback but bowed slightly to apologize. The smile quickly vanished from my face.

“All done,” Fabio said.

“How do I look, Fabio?” I asked, and Fabio kissed his hand to gesture how beautiful I was.

I couldn’t help but let out a little laugh, which obviously was me just trying to test Damian’s patience.

Fabio had arranged my hair into a neat low bun with a lacy bow. “Ciao, sweetie,”

He gave a short wave before he packed his bags and left the room. I still had a smile on my face as I watched him leave, ignoring Damian’s intense glare.

“You like it?” Damian asked.

“Yes, very much, actually. Fabio is quite good at what he does,” I responded enthusiastically, because truly I was so flustered by how the makeup blended with my skin.

I hadn’t had a makeover since prom night in high school; yes, life got tough after that.

“Hmn, oh really?” He replied in a sarcastic manner, and he moved towards where I sat on the low stool.

He placed his hand on the lacy bow and, with one flip, loosened it. My eyes widened in shock as he removed all the pins that held my hair together, letting it fall on my shoulders.

“You’re not allowed to give compliments to anyone else; you only praise me.” He gritted almost like a whisper in my ear, and my chest tightened.

He could do whatever he wanted, and I couldn’t stop it.

“Take this,” he snatched an envelope towards me.

My eyes darted to it. “Take it!” he urged, and I quickly obliged.

“Open it,” he commanded.

My hands were almost shaky as I fiddled with the envelope. Inside, I found a small diamond engagement ring, and what looked like paper?

I took it out and realised it was a check.

A $30 million check, I had only asked for $5 million. This was too much.

“You can’t pull off an act if your fingers are bare. Put on the ring. And that’s your down payment,” he said, as he pocketed.

Down payment?

Did he mean that there was more to come? I didn’t want to look like a gold digger when this was all over; the money was too much; I couldn’t take it.

“Mr. Valor…" I called, and he shot me a warning glare.

“Sorry, Damian. I had only asked for five million, but“ he cut me off.

“No pants along with your dress.”

*********************

We soon arrived at the function we were headed to. There weren’t many paparazzi, but there were cameramen. My anxiety shouldn’t flare up, hopefully.

I felt naked knowing that I didn’t wear panties. The dress Fabio had picked for me was a red long satin dress;

it was a low back, which meant half of my back was exposed with just a small gold chain covering it, and that itself was a décor.

Damian held my hand firmly as we walked in; my mind calmed.

The event seemed to be a ball or masquerade party—another masquerade event? Socialites sure knew how to spend repeatedly on what they wanted. As we scanned the room, a lady approached us.

She seemed young and had long, glossy brown hair that cascaded in soft waves down her back; her eyes were striking shades of green with thick, dark lashes. Her skin was flawless, with a porcelain-like quality.

She was perfect, in short.

I could see some sort of resemblance between her and Damian; perhaps they were related?

But apart from that, she seemed too familiar. I knew her.

“You showed up on time for once,” she teased, and he pulled her in for a hug. She kissed him softly on both cheeks.

“When did you get into New York, Valerie?”

“This morning, Dad wouldn’t stop chattering about how he wanted his children to be present at his retirement auction. Evelyn, on the other hand, couldn’t care less.”

I finally realised why they looked so much alike—she was his sister.

“Oh, and who might you be?” She finally acknowledged my presence.

My face finally registered where I had seen her; she was a model—Valerie was the face of the most expensive brands—and the girl was quite selective of whom she modelled for too. I heard Verci Fashion was still trying to get her to model for them.

“Wait, Erm. Lexie, right? My brother’s new fiancée?” She guessed correctly; news spread pretty quickly, apparently.

“It’s nice to meet you,” I stretched out my hand for a handshake, and she stared at my hand for a long time, they darted to my engagement ring a smirk playing on her face.

“Enjoy the party,” she forced a smile before she walked away.

I felt my breath coming in raggedly but struggled to keep my composure. Valerie didn’t like me;

as far as I was concerned, the only person who liked me was his dad, and that was probably because he never paid close attention to me.

“She’ll warm up to you,” Damian assured me as his hand rested on my back.

“Come,” he urged, and we approached a table. I recognised Evelyn, so I knew it was his family’s table.

“I see you brought your….thing,” Evelyn commented haughtily. “Are you familiar with things like this, dear?” She turned to me with a grin.

I couldn’t help but remain quiet. I wish I could avoid her forever.

“Never on your best behaviour again, Evelyn,” Damian scoffed as he pulled out a chair for me to sit in before he sat beside me.

I felt utterly uncomfortable; Valerie was throwing uncertain glances at me, and Evelyn was just being a bitch.

“Can I drink?” I whispered to Damian, and he gave a curt nod.

The waiter passed by, Damian signalled for him to come, and he dropped all the drinks on his tray on our table. He bowed to Damian and left.

“Enjoy, love,” he whispered back to me.

I smiled nervously as I tried to avert my gaze from Evelyn and Valerie. I brought the champagne glass to my lips and drank from it.

I felt Damian’s hands running up my thighs from under my dress. I looked around to see if no one could notice his hand movements under the table.

With the glass on my lips, I turned to look at him.

He was staring at me intensely, then he leaned towards my ear.

“Those small lips make me want to fuck your throat.”

I choked slightly on my drink. Valerie turned to look at me, and I muttered a quick

“Sorry…” I cleared my throat and looked back at Damian, who smirked at me.

The event began, and the auctioneer came on stage and honoured everyone’s gathering. He mentioned the celebration of Damian’s dad’s retirement, and the people clapped in recognition.

Then the auctioning started, selling off houses, jewellery, and other luxurious items. Then he mentioned something,

“A luxurious penthouse with a Rolls Royce in Las Vegas, owned by our one and only CEO, Damian Valour.”

“$8 million!” I heard someone bid from behind.

“$10 million!” someone else countered, raising their auction paddles.

“$15 million!”

The excitement in the room was so evident, probably because they had heard that Damian owned the penthouse; some people would be such fan girls.

And then I made a decision of my own, $25 million dollars,” I called out.

The room erupted in applause. Damian was spoiling me with so much money, and I wasn’t used to that kind of life; what I could do was give it away.

“$20 million, going once,” the auctioneer shouted excitedly.

“Twice…” He waited to see if there was any more bid.

“Thrice, and sold! For $25 million.”

“That money was yours,” Damian turned to me.

“It was a lot. Not what we agreed, besides, it’s going to someone who needs it more,” I responded.

“I knew you were something different. Follow me…”