Lila Sinclair's POV

I stared at my reflection in the mirror, hardly recognizing the girl in front of me. The soft curls Ethan had fixed in my hair bounced over my shoulders, my dress hugged my body in all the right places, and the light makeup made me look like I belonged to this mansion, like I'd always been this polished.

Ethan leaned against the doorframe with that smug grin of his.

"Damn, Lila. If Damien doesn't thank my father for adopting you, I will."

I rolled my eyes, but heat rushed to my cheeks. "Stop flattering me."

"I'm not flattering," he said, stepping closer, his eyes scanning me slowly, deliberately. "I'm stating facts. Tonight, you're about to make one woman very jealous."

I raised my brow. "Stephanie?"

He chuckled, shaking his head. "Smart girl. You'll catch on quick."

I sighed. "So let me get this straight. You're dragging me to your ex's birthday party to... what? Parade me like some trophy?"

"Exactly." He smirked wider, his tone playful but sharp underneath. "Steph's the type who hates losing. She dumped me thinking she'd crawl back whenever she pleased. Tonight, you're going to help me prove she lost me for good."

I folded my arms. "And what do I get in return for being your little prop?"

"Fun," he said immediately, leaning in with a mischievous wink. "And maybe... a tiny crash course in surviving rich-people drama. Trust me, you'll need it."

I laughed despite myself. His energy was infectious...flirty, cocky, but so damn easy to be around.

***

The ride to the party felt like something out of a movie. The sleek black car, the city lights reflecting off tinted windows, Ethan in a perfectly tailored suit beside me. He was humming along to some playlist, relaxed, while I kept fiddling with my fingers.

"You nervous?" he asked, catching me.

"Of course I am," I muttered. "This is my first time walking into some glamorous party as... well, anything."

He reached over, brushing his fingers over mine in a casual but reassuring way. "Relax, Lil babyyy. All you gotta do is stand beside me, smile when I tell you to, laugh at my terrible jokes. Easy."

I smirked. "Your jokes are terrible already. That won't be acting."

"Exactly. You're perfect for this role." he smiled warmly and brushed my hair softly off my shoulders.

The mansion where the party was hosted was dripping in luxury, crystal chandeliers, waiters with champagne, the faint hum of a live band playing something jazzy in the background. And the people... God, everyone looked like they had been carved straight out of fashion magazines.

I froze for a second at the entrance, but Ethan pressed a hand to the small of my back.

"Breathe," he whispered, warm against my ear. "And remember, they wish they looked as good as you."

We entered, and heads turned. I swore I heard someone whisper, "Who's she?" The power of appearances was insane.

Then I saw her.

Stephanie.

She was tall, striking, with flawless red lips and a dress that clung to her like second skin. And the look on her face when her eyes landed on me and Ethan? pure venom dressed in a smile.

"Well, well," she purred as she walked over, champagne glass in hand. "Ethan. You finally learned how to accessorize."

I stiffened, but Ethan slipped his arm around my waist smoothly.

"Stephanie," he said warmly, almost mocking. "Meet Lila. My girl."

Her brows arched, lips twitching. "Your... girl?"

I forced myself to meet her gaze, faking confidence I didn't feel. "Hi."

Her smile didn't reach her eyes. "Cute." She turned back to Ethan, her voice sugar-coated poison. "Didn't think you'd move on so fast."

"Didn't think you'd care," he shot back easily, then kissed my temple for good measure. My stomach flipped, though I reminded myself this was all for show.

Stephanie's laugh was sharp. "Enjoy the party, Ethan. Don't choke on your rebound." And with that, she sauntered off, hips swaying like she owned the floor.

I let out a breath I didn't realize I'd been holding. "She hates me."

"She hates losing," Ethan corrected, grinning. "And thanks to you, she's losing big time tonight."

I couldn't help but laugh. The rest of the evening blurred into music, laughter, and Ethan keeping me close, introducing me to his friends, making me laugh so much my cheeks hurt. For a moment, I forgot I was the outsider.

But somewhere between the toasts and the endless glasses of champagne, Ethan started to slip. His jokes got louder, his arm heavier around me. His laughter, looser.

By midnight, he was leaning against the bar, glass in hand, eyes half-lidded. "Lil babyy... you're the best fake girlfriend ever."

I frowned. "You're drunk."

"And you're... so pretty," he slurred with a lazy grin.

I sighed. "Great. Just great."

"Catch ya later, imma go hook up with some ass." he rose as he walked off

"Great! Time up, Lila." I muttered, and suddenly I felt out of place again. Alone, despite the crowd. Ethan was lost in his drunken haze, his friends laughing around him. Nobody noticed me slip away.

***

The night air was sharp as I walked down the driveway, heels clicking on pavement. I tried to call an Uber, but the app kept glitching. Figures.

Frustration bubbled in my chest. My first night out in this world, and of course, I end up stranded. I started walking, hugging myself, when headlights flashed across me. A car screeched to a halt inches away.

I gasped, stumbling back. My heart pounded as the tinted window lowered slightly.

"What the hell?!" I yelled, anger and nerves spilling out. "Do you not know how to drive? You almost killed me, you idiot!"

No answer. Just silence. My hands trembled as I stepped closer, glaring.

"Whoever you are, you need to open your damn eyes instead of speeding like a maniac..." I cursed.

Yes. This was me, whenever I get frustrated and confused.

"Move away!" I barked.

Then my gaze fell on the license plate.

My breath caught.

I knew that number. I knew the name written on the top of the plate.

My lips parted in shock, the words dying in my throat.

The car's engine revved, and before I could say anything else, it sped off into the night, leaving me standing frozen in the middle of the street.

Damien Blackwood.

It had been Damien.

The realization hit me like ice water, and my knees almost buckled. He'd seen me. Heard me. And the way I had screamed at him...God.

If looks could kill, I was sure I had just signed my death sentence.

Lila Sinclair's POV

I stared at my reflection in the mirror, hardly recognizing the girl in front of me. The soft curls Ethan had fixed in my hair bounced over my shoulders, my dress hugged my body in all the right places, and the light makeup made me look like I belonged to this mansion, like I'd always been this polished.

Ethan leaned against the doorframe with that smug grin of his.

"Damn, Lila. If Damien doesn't thank my father for adopting you, I will."

I rolled my eyes, but heat rushed to my cheeks. "Stop flattering me."

"I'm not flattering," he said, stepping closer, his eyes scanning me slowly, deliberately. "I'm stating facts. Tonight, you're about to make one woman very jealous."

I raised my brow. "Stephanie?"

He chuckled, shaking his head. "Smart girl. You'll catch on quick."

I sighed. "So let me get this straight. You're dragging me to your ex's birthday party to... what? Parade me like some trophy?"

"Exactly." He smirked wider, his tone playful but sharp underneath. "Steph's the type who hates losing. She dumped me thinking she'd crawl back whenever she pleased. Tonight, you're going to help me prove she lost me for good."

I folded my arms. "And what do I get in return for being your little prop?"

"Fun," he said immediately, leaning in with a mischievous wink. "And maybe... a tiny crash course in surviving rich-people drama. Trust me, you'll need it."

I laughed despite myself. His energy was infectious...flirty, cocky, but so damn easy to be around.

***

The ride to the party felt like something out of a movie. The sleek black car, the city lights reflecting off tinted windows, Ethan in a perfectly tailored suit beside me. He was humming along to some playlist, relaxed, while I kept fiddling with my fingers.

"You nervous?" he asked, catching me.

"Of course I am," I muttered. "This is my first time walking into some glamorous party as... well, anything."

He reached over, brushing his fingers over mine in a casual but reassuring way. "Relax, Lil babyyy. All you gotta do is stand beside me, smile when I tell you to, laugh at my terrible jokes. Easy."

I smirked. "Your jokes are terrible already. That won't be acting."

"Exactly. You're perfect for this role." he smiled warmly and brushed my hair softly off my shoulders.

The mansion where the party was hosted was dripping in luxury, crystal chandeliers, waiters with champagne, the faint hum of a live band playing something jazzy in the background. And the people... God, everyone looked like they had been carved straight out of fashion magazines.

I froze for a second at the entrance, but Ethan pressed a hand to the small of my back.

"Breathe," he whispered, warm against my ear. "And remember, they wish they looked as good as you."

We entered, and heads turned. I swore I heard someone whisper, "Who's she?" The power of appearances was insane.

Then I saw her.

Stephanie.

She was tall, striking, with flawless red lips and a dress that clung to her like second skin. And the look on her face when her eyes landed on me and Ethan? pure venom dressed in a smile.

"Well, well," she purred as she walked over, champagne glass in hand. "Ethan. You finally learned how to accessorize."

I stiffened, but Ethan slipped his arm around my waist smoothly.

"Stephanie," he said warmly, almost mocking. "Meet Lila. My girl."

Her brows arched, lips twitching. "Your... girl?"

I forced myself to meet her gaze, faking confidence I didn't feel. "Hi."

Her smile didn't reach her eyes. "Cute." She turned back to Ethan, her voice sugar-coated poison. "Didn't think you'd move on so fast."

"Didn't think you'd care," he shot back easily, then kissed my temple for good measure. My stomach flipped, though I reminded myself this was all for show.

Stephanie's laugh was sharp. "Enjoy the party, Ethan. Don't choke on your rebound." And with that, she sauntered off, hips swaying like she owned the floor.

I let out a breath I didn't realize I'd been holding. "She hates me."

"She hates losing," Ethan corrected, grinning. "And thanks to you, she's losing big time tonight."

I couldn't help but laugh. The rest of the evening blurred into music, laughter, and Ethan keeping me close, introducing me to his friends, making me laugh so much my cheeks hurt. For a moment, I forgot I was the outsider.

But somewhere between the toasts and the endless glasses of champagne, Ethan started to slip. His jokes got louder, his arm heavier around me. His laughter, looser.

By midnight, he was leaning against the bar, glass in hand, eyes half-lidded. "Lil babyy... you're the best fake girlfriend ever."

I frowned. "You're drunk."

"And you're... so pretty," he slurred with a lazy grin.

I sighed. "Great. Just great."

"Catch ya later, imma go hook up with some ass." he rose as he walked off

"Great! Time up, Lila." I muttered, and suddenly I felt out of place again. Alone, despite the crowd. Ethan was lost in his drunken haze, his friends laughing around him. Nobody noticed me slip away.

***

The night air was sharp as I walked down the driveway, heels clicking on pavement. I tried to call an Uber, but the app kept glitching. Figures.

Frustration bubbled in my chest. My first night out in this world, and of course, I end up stranded. I started walking, hugging myself, when headlights flashed across me. A car screeched to a halt inches away.

I gasped, stumbling back. My heart pounded as the tinted window lowered slightly.

"What the hell?!" I yelled, anger and nerves spilling out. "Do you not know how to drive? You almost killed me, you idiot!"

No answer. Just silence. My hands trembled as I stepped closer, glaring.

"Whoever you are, you need to open your damn eyes instead of speeding like a maniac..." I cursed.

Yes. This was me, whenever I get frustrated and confused.

"Move away!" I barked.

Then my gaze fell on the license plate.

My breath caught.

I knew that number. I knew the name written on the top of the plate.

My lips parted in shock, the words dying in my throat.

The car's engine revved, and before I could say anything else, it sped off into the night, leaving me standing frozen in the middle of the street.

Damien Blackwood.

It had been Damien.

The realization hit me like ice water, and my knees almost buckled. He'd seen me. Heard me. And the way I had screamed at him...God.

If looks could kill, I was sure I had just signed my death sentence.

Lila's POV

"Look who called today, pussyyy!" JoJo's voice blasted from the screen before his face even popped up.

I burst into laughter. He was leaning against some neon-lit wall, the strobes from a club bouncing across his dark shades like he thought he was a celebrity. "JoJo!" I grinned, instantly lighter. "God, do you ever change? Every time it's some dumbass word first thing on the call."

"Why would I?" He smirked, lips glistening from a drink. "You love me for it. Admit it."

I rolled my eyes. "You're insane."

"Insanely fine, maybe. Anyway, where the hell are you? This doesn't look like your ratty apartment."

I snorted. "Long story. But first, where are you? And why do I hear 'Despacito' blasting in the background?"

JoJo tilted his phone, showing flashing lights, half-naked strangers grinding against each other. "Club, baby. Some Tinder guy dragged me here. Thought he was gonna be my Prince Charming. Turns out, his cock was like a crayon. I had to cancel the deal."

I threw my head back, laughing so hard my stomach hurt. "A crayon? You didn't!"

"Bitch, yes I did." He rolled his eyes dramatically. "And not even the jumbo pack, like those tiny-ass broken crayons you find at the bottom of a kindergarten desk. Tragic."

I wheezed. "You should never settle for a crayon in the form of a cock, JoJo."

"Period!" He snapped his fingers. "Big, bold, thick, like a Sharpie, minimum. Otherwise, I'm out."

We both cracked up, the easy banter filling my chest with warmth. That's what I loved about him. No matter how shitty things got, JoJo could make me laugh.

"So, babe..." He sipped his drink, smirking. "Who you fucking tonight? Ethan? Damien? One of the butlers?"

"JoJo!" I shrieked, covering my face. "Shut the fuck up and speak to me like an educated human for once!"

He cackled. "Ohhh, listen to Miss Blackwood now. All proper and prim. You've been living there too long."

I sighed, suddenly serious. "Speaking of Blackwoods... I'm cooked, JoJo."

His smirk dropped. "Wait. What? Why?"

I chewed my lip. "Damien."

"What about him?"

I flopped back onto my bed, staring at the ceiling. "You remember how I told you someone almost hit me with a car last night? That was him. And then today, at breakfast, he literally called me a stranger to my face. Said I was too 'ordinary' to be part of this family. Like... he's brutal, JoJo. Ruthless."

"Aww," JoJo said softly, like he was watching a rom-com.

I sat up, glaring. "Aww? What the hell is that supposed to mean?"

"It means," he smirked, "this is the perfect love story in the making."

I gagged, fake retching. "Please. Trash that thought. That man doesn't have a romantic bone in his body."

JoJo raised his brows. "Oh, but he's got bones elsewhere....tell me, who's hotter? Damien or Ethan?"

I hesitated. My face burned. "...If I'm not gonna lie, Damien is so motherfucking hot it's not fair."

JoJo let out a squeal. "See! Go wiggle that ass in front of him and watch him fall at your feet."

I snorted. "Do you ever give out advice that doesn't involve sex?"

"Nope," he grinned.

We laughed until our sides hurt. Then I softened, biting my lip. "But Ethan... Ethan's perfect. He's everything a woman would ever need. Sweet, funny, protective. But Damien..." I swallowed. "Every time I see him, my heart skips. I can't explain it. It's like...."

A sound.

I froze.

"JoJo... hang up. I heard something."

JoJo groaned. "Bitch, is it every day you hear noises in that creepy mansion? If you know it looks like a haunted house, just pack your bags and leave!"

I giggled nervously. "Shut up. Ethan said he'd pick me up in an hour, but right now I'm alone. So who the hell is here?"

"Then you better carry a cross and some holy water." He made the sign of the cross, laughing.

"Idiot. Hang up."

I clicked the call off and stood, phone light trembling in my hand as I stepped into the hallway. My pulse pounded in my ears. Each step echoed too loudly in the cavernous silence of the Blackwood mansion.

I reached the switch, flicked it on, and screamed. "Gracious heaven!"

My foot slipped on the polished floor, and I tipped backward, falling...

Until strong hands caught me.

My breath stilled. My palms slapped against a chest...hard, warm, unyielding. The scent of smoke and expensive cologne swallowed me whole.

Damien.

His eyes bore into mine, dark storms that froze me where I clung to him. My lips parted, my pulse betraying me. For a long, suspended moment, the world shrank to just us...the press of my fingers against his chest, the heat of his body, the sharp edge of his jaw so close I could trace it.

It was unbearable. Intoxicating. Dangerous.

Then he broke the gaze. Just like that. His voice came low, detached. "If you're not fit enough to stand, you shouldn't be walking around."

I straightened immediately, stepping back, adjusting my top. "Sorry."

His eyes flicked over me, unreadable. "Step up your game. Next time, you'll end up in the hospital."

I frowned, heat rising in my chest. "Do you actually think I just threw myself on you for no reason?"

He smirked faintly, still not looking at me. "Wouldn't surprise me. Any girl would kill to feel my skin."

My jaw dropped. The audacity. "Wow. What exactly are you feeling like? A god?"

He didn't stop walking, didn't even turn.

"Why are you so harsh to me?" I snapped. "It was a minor mistake. I apologised."

He paused, shoulders stiff. "Can I breathe?"

I stormed up to him, poking his chest with my finger. "Don't play games with me, Damien. Everyone makes mistakes. You too. And I said I was sorry....so forgive me, for fuck's sake!"

His hand shot out, wrapping around my wrist. He pushed it off him easily, like I was nothing. His eyes cut through me. "Do I need to remind you that you were picked to survive?"

I staggered back, breath catching.

He leaned closer, his voice razor-sharp. "Transfer this little fire of yours to the time when your mother was busy stealing, maybe she wouldn't be rotting in jail."

My mouth fell open. My chest burned. "You're... unbelievable."

He only shrugged, turning away again.

Fury surged through me. "You're not all that!" I shouted after him.

That stopped him. Slowly, dangerously, he turned. His steps were deliberate as he walked back, closing the distance until I could feel the heat radiating from his body. My back hit the wall.

He reached up, fingers sliding into my hair, tugging it back just enough to tilt my head. My breath hitched as his lips brushed the shell of my ear.

"See now?" he whispered, voice dark velvet. "I am all that. And your body knows it. It's begging for it....even if your mouth won't admit it."

My hands had betrayed me, gripping his chest, fingers trailing dangerously low, down toward the ridges of his abs. The pull between us was unbearable, a magnet I couldn't fight.

Then he pushed me back gently, stepping away, leaving me breathless.

"Damien..." I blinked. "uh... are you heading for the tea party? or is it over already?"

He smirked faintly. "Yes, I am."

My brows knit. "uh ..Ethan....He was supposed to pick me up... but he's late. Like, really late, and I don't know why..."

Damien didn't even look at me. "Definitely, he forgot about you, wear something decent. I'll drop you."

I blinked. "Wait... really?"

He was already walking off.

"Thank you... Dada," I teased, testing him.

He only shrugged, not slowing. "Don't make me regret it."

And just like that, he was gone, leaving me pressed against the wall, breathless, furious, and... trembling.