BELLA

When the woman was done, she spun the chair around so I could look in the mirror. I gasped, I could barely recognize myself. My eyes were smoky and dramatic, my lips were a deep red and my blonde hair was perfectly curled. I looked nothing like myself. I felt like a doll, and it made me feel uneasy like I didn't know who I was anymore. The woman gave me a reassuring smile.

“You look lovely dear," she said. But I didn't feel lovely at all.

She handed me a dress, and I gasped when I saw it. It was a deep red strapless low-cut gown. It was beautiful, but it also made me feel uncomfortable. I wasn't used to wearing such revealing clothing. I looked at the woman, unsure of what to do.

“You have to wear this," she said firmly.

“It's part of the plan."

I swallowed hard, knowing that I had no choice.

She handed me a small clutch and a pair of high heels, both in the same deep red as the dress. What was it about red that the boss loved so much, I thought as I slipped on the shoes, wincing as I felt the tight straps cut into my feet. The woman smiled and said,

“You look perfect."

I stood up, trying to get used to the heels. They were much higher than anything I had ever worn before, and I felt unsteady.

"Mr. Moreno will be here in five minutes," the woman said, looking at her watch.

“You have to be ready." She gave me one last look over and nodded, apparently satisfied with my appearance. I felt like I was being prepared for something terrible, but I didn't know what it was. All I knew was that I had to go downstairs in five minutes, and I was terrified of what was to come.

As I stepped out of the room and started to descend the stairs, I was struck by the beauty of the house. It looked like a castle, with its high ceilings and ornate moldings. There were paintings on the walls, and the furniture was all antique and expensive-looking. I felt like I had stepped into a whole new world, one that was far different from my own. I shivered, knowing that I didn't belong here.

As I descended the stairs, my mind raced with thoughts and emotions. I knew that I had to stay calm, no matter what happened. I would try to talk to the boss. I would tell him that I didn't belong here and that I wanted to go home. I knew that there was a chance he wouldn't listen to me, but I had to try. And if he wouldn't listen, I would try to escape. I didn't know how I would do it, but I knew I had to try.

We approached the car, and the driver opened the door for me. I got in, and I expected Mr. Moreno to follow me, but he got into the car on the other side, I sat down making sure to leave enough distance between us. The driver closed the door, and we were alone in the car. I could feel Mr. Moreno's gaze on me, but he didn't say a word.

He turned to me and said,

"Smile, little one. We need to make a good impression tonight." His voice was firm, and I knew that he was serious.

I took a deep breath and did my best to put on a cheerful expression. But inside, I was feeling anything but happy. I felt trapped, and I had no idea what I had gotten myself into.

“Don’t forget what’s at stake here, give people something to talk about and your dad pays for your mistake. Understood?” He said, I rolled my eyes at his words while looking out of the window.

“Look at me when I talk to you and fucking answer me!” he suddenly said with so much authority that made me shiver.

“I understand,” I replied immediately, looking at him.

I knew that my father's life was on the line here and that I had to play my part perfectly. But I also knew that something was off about this whole situation. As the car pulled up to the venue, I steeled myself for whatever was to come. I just hoped that I would be able to get through the night without making any mistakes.

When the car doors opened, we were greeted by a sea of cameras and reporters. The reporters were clamoring for our attention, and I was taken aback by the sheer number of them.

“Behave! No one here can save you from me, little one,” he said, his lips very close to my ear. Did he know I was planning to ask someone for help? I felt his warm breath on my face. He moved back smiling at me sweetly, I took his outstretched hand and got out of the car. “Remember to smile and stay close to me,” he said.

Mr. Moreno put a hand on my lower back, his grip was firm. He led me towards the entrance, and I could feel my heart pounding in my chest. I had never been in a situation like this before, and I felt completely out of my element.

The noise of the reporters was overwhelming. I could hear their questions, but they were all jumbled together and I couldn't make out a single word. I felt like I was in a daze, and I could only focus on Mr. Moreno's hand on my arm. I clung to that touch, using it to ground myself in the chaos. We made our way to the door, and I felt a sense of relief as we stepped inside.

I knew that I had to appear strong and confident, even though I was feeling anything but confident. Mr. Moreno was towering over me, and I felt like a child next to him. I straightened my spine and held my head high, doing my best to look like I belonged there. But inside, I was shaking like a leaf. I had never been so scared in my life.

The hall was decorated with rich fabrics and luxurious furnishings. Chandeliers hung from the ceiling, and the walls were covered in paintings. I felt completely out of place, I wanted to turn and run, but I knew that it was too late for that and I had to see this through to the end.

As I looked around, I saw that many of the women in the room were giving me dirty looks. They were dressed in expensive gowns, and their jewelry sparkled under the chandeliers. I tried to remain calm, but I felt like I was about to burst into tears. Mr. Moreno seemed oblivious to the tension in the room, and he was talking to people like everything was normal.

I couldn’t help but admire the waitstaff. They all looked so composed, like they had been trained to have a perfect smile. Their smiles seemed to be frozen in place, never wavering or changing. I wondered how they were able to maintain such composure, to keep such a perfect smile.

We were led to a table, and I took a seat next to Mr. Moreno. As I looked around, I saw that there were many different tables, and each one had an auctioneer standing next to it. I realized that this was some kind of charity auction, and I felt even more out of place. I had never been to anything like this before.

I reached for a glass of champagne, hoping that it would help to settle my nerves. I took a small sip, and I immediately felt a warm sensation spreading through my body. I could feel the tension in my shoulders start to loosen. I took another sip, and I began to feel like I could get through this. But then I heard the auctioneer clear his throat, but I tuned him out. I was more interested in watching the other people in the room. I saw them chatting and laughing, and I couldn't help but feel a sense of envy. They seemed so carefree, and they didn't seem to have a care in the world.

I felt Mr. Moreno's hand on my leg, and I immediately tensed up. I looked at him, and he gave me a warning look. I knew that I had to play along, but I was terrified of what he might do if I disobeyed him. I tried to focus on the auction, but I felt his hand on my leg like a hot brand. I couldn't help but squirm in my seat, desperate to get away from him. But I knew that I couldn't move, or else he would know that I was disobeying him.

I kept taking sips of my champagne, trying to maintain my composure. I tried to block out everything around me, focusing only on the taste of the drink. I could feel the alcohol start to take effect, and I began to feel a little lightheaded. But I knew that I couldn't let myself get too drunk, or I would be in even more trouble. I had to find a balance, staying sober enough to be presentable but buzzed enough to get through the night.

Suddenly, Mr. Moreno stood up. He looked at me and said, "It's time." I felt a jolt of fear, and I felt my heart start to race. I followed him out of the room, my mind spinning. I had no idea what he had planned, but I knew that it was something I wouldn't like. I felt a sense of dread as we made our way through the crowd.