The CEO’s stand-in girlfriend

Charity event

*Lucas*

As the limo glides through the city streets, I can’t help but admire the way the lights sparkle against the darkened glass. This evening is mine, and I’m ready to seize it. I glance over at Ashley, who sits beside me with her hands clasped neatly in her lap. She’s dressed in a sleek, form-fitting dress that hugs her curves just right. Not as stylish as Helen used to be, but she’ll do. She’s fit to be on my arm, and that’s what matters.

“Are you excited?” I ask, trying to inject some enthusiasm into my tone, even if the words feel foreign on my lips.

Her smile brightens, and I can see the flutter of hope in her eyes. “Yes, I actually am. I heard these balls are always spectacular.”

I nod, though inside, I’m cringing at the thought of mingling with the same crowd that adored Helen. She left when I struggled the most, and now she’s living the high life in Europe. It shouldn’t bother me, but the bitterness lingers like a stubborn stain I can’t scrub away.

The limo pulls up to the venue, a grand hall buzzing with chatter and laughter. I step out first, the cool night air brushing against my skin, and extend my hand to Ashley. She takes it, and together we enter the line on the red carpet. Even though we are not really celebrities we are asked to pose for a photo.

The moment we walk in, heads turn. I can feel the weight of their gazes, some impressed, some judging. But I’m a king in this world, and Ashley is my queen, even if she is paid to play the part.

As we navigate through the crowd, I grab a drink from a passing server, scanning the room for familiar faces. “Stay close,” I murmur to Ashley, and she nods, her expression perfectly composed, the obedient girlfriend playing her part flawlessly.

We mingle, exchanging pleasantries and small talk with high-profile guests. I can feel the admiration in their eyes as they size Ashley up. She’s not Helen, but she’s a damn sight better than some of the women I’ve had to endure since the breakup. I feel a swell of pride as I watch her laugh genuinely at my side, tossing her hair back in that carefree way that, in weak moments, makes me want to pull her closer.

But then I spot her… Lisa, one of Helen’s best friends. She strides into the room, her confidence radiating off her like a spotlight. I can see the way she scans the crowd, her gaze landing on us. The smile on her face is one I know too well: condescending, self-satisfied.

“Lucas!” she calls, her voice dripping with saccharine delight as she approaches. “What a surprise to see you here with… Ashley, wasn’t it?” She glances at Ashley, her eyes narrowing slightly, and I brace myself for the mockery that’s bound to follow.

“Such a lovely choice, really,” Lisa continues, her tone laced with sarcasm. “You must feel so lucky to have snatched someone who can bring you to events like this.”

Ashley stiffens beside me, the flush of embarrassment creeping into her cheeks. She’s got the grace to ignore Lisa’s snide comment, but for some reason it angers me. I can’t stand the way Lisa looks at her, like she’s some consolation prize I picked up off the street.

I lock my gaze onto Lisa, letting the coldness seep into my expression. I don’t need to say a word; my stare is enough. I can see the moment her bravado falters, the way her smile freezes as she registers the icy challenge in my eyes. For a heartbeat, the air between us thickens, and I revel in it.

Lisa’s confidence wavers, and she glances away, suddenly more interested in the nearby buffet than in us. “Well, enjoy your evening,” she says hastily, retreating into the crowd like a moth drawn back from a flame.

“Wow,” Ashley breathes beside me, her eyes wide with surprise. “You really put her in her place there.”

I shrug, trying to play it cool, but inside, I’m feeling a rush of conflicting emotions. “She had it coming,” I say dismissively, but the flutter of pride lingers in my chest. “Besides, I don’t tolerate that kind of behavior towards me.”

Ashley’s expression softens as she leans in slightly, an uncharacteristic vulnerability in her eyes. “Thank you,” she whispers, her voice barely audible over the din of the party.

I glance down at her, momentarily caught off guard. “I didn’t do anything,” I reply, brushing her gratitude aside as if it were an annoyance. It makes me uncomfortable when she’s nice to me, when she looks at me with that softness in her eyes that feels like pity.

“Still,” she insists, her eyes searching mine, “it meant a lot.”

I nod, forcing a smile that doesn’t quite reach my eyes. “Let’s just enjoy the night.” I turn away, grabbing another drink. The alcohol washes over me in a comforting wave, dulling the edges of the evening. I watch the crowd, my mind racing with thoughts I can’t articulate.

I want to feel confident, to own my choices, and yet, there’s a nagging discomfort gnawing at me. I don’t want to be the man who needs validation from others. I don’t want to be the man haunted by the shadows of my past. But as I glance back at Ashley, her warm smile cutting through the noise of the party, I can’t help but wonder if there’s a part of me that craves connection, that wants to be seen for who I truly am, beyond the façade I’ve built to protect myself.

“Let’s hit the dance floor,” I say abruptly, my voice louder than I intended. I take her hand, pulling her into the heart of the party, where the music wraps around us like a comforting embrace that lets me shut off my thoughts for a bit.