A Night of Passion (The Billionaire's Lambo Promise)

Sophia’s POV I am an attention w***e. I would do anything for attention and fame. The look of approval and admiration—it’s like my dopamine, and I was addicted. I am not a terrible person; I don’t think I am. We all had a little bad in us, but it was not a bad thing; it was the balance that was necessary in life. The cameras flashed, and I consciously made efforts to look good as I climbed the stairs up to the Knight mansion. I didn’t want any ugly photo seeing the light of day. I had been to this style of parties before, but the difference was that it usually happened in New York and I was always a sneak in. This time, I was a special guest, so it was different. The thing about Dubai was it kept you on your toes; of course you are aware of all of the things it has to give and the luxury and the beauty, but what happens in Dubai is always a mystery. The best gossip came from Dubai; the best experiences of people’s lives happened here; lives changed here, and honestly, lives also went crashing down here. I stepped into the fancy hall, and I fell instantly in love; it was grand and extra like every other thing in this city. Chandeliers hung low across the room, and waiters passed drinks around expertly; eyes turned to me, and the usual whispers and gossip started. ‘Why is she so vulgar?” A woman said as she passed me, and I shrugged it off. I didn’t care about this society's women and their gossips, but I stared down at my dress. Was it really vulgar? “Ouch!” I yelped as I bumped into someone, very firm, very male. “Freaking simpleton.” He cursed, and before I could even get a glimpse of him, he was gone, disappearing into the crowd without saying sorry. “Asshole.” I said under my breath, knowing it was inappropriate language by this society’s metric, but you took the girl out of Brooklyn, never Brooklyn out of the girl. The elites were always so rude. I was still frowning when I picked up a drink, but little relief coursed through me as my friend and associate sighted me from across the room and immediately made her way towards me. Finally some excitement! Ama Gyah was stunning and a force to reckon with. She marched towards me with a disapproving frown on her face; she was dressed in a hot pink maxi gown that highlighted her curvy features. Her choice of outfit looked very much like the native Dubaians outfit, and it made me wonder if there had been a theme that I wasn’t aware of. With a net worth of almost two million dollars, my friend was rich and a successful socialite. Her stylish exuberance and intimidating aura always made me feel like a plain Jane, and believe me, I was gorgeous. “Why did you wear that?” She snapped at me immediately when she got to me, not bothering with pleasantries. “Why are you so obsessed with disobeying rules?” That was typical Ama, harsh and direct. I watched as she scanned my body, and I tried not to squirm even though I badly wanted to. “The prompt you sent me didn’t have anything that said that.” “While in Dubai, do as the Dubaians do? Was that not in the prompt?” She asked me and grabbed my hands, pulling me away from the entrance. I followed her and sent kind smiles at those who greeted me. This society was particular about who they let into their circle; I knew that, but I also knew I was more than fit to be in that circle, and I was going to be in it. “Well, pardon my ignorance; it wasn’t exactly clear. How do Dubaians do? I have seen women in abayas and those fancy dresses, dangerously handsome men, and expensive cars of a million varieties, but it’s all so…….” I trailed off, and she looked frustrated for a second. “You’re too literal, Soph. Just act like you have millions of dollars invested in oil somewhere, and you should have worn a longer dress. Top people will be here tonight!” Ama replied, finally looking away from me. I straightened the frills at the end of my maroon bodycon dress and settled by the bar table. Ama settled next to me, her eyes spanning the floor, looking around for something— possibly her next victim. My phone buzzed just then, and I pulled it out from my purse, but then I hesitated. I knew who it was, and I didn’t want to respond; it would probably be filled with accusations. “Is that him?” Ama asked me, and I said nothing. “Sophia! When are you going to dump him?” She asked, and I stood up straight, ready to defend him. “It’s not happening. I sincerely like him. He is kind.” I replied and took another sip from my champagne, watching with interest as more people came in, the rich and the influential, the affluent. He was the last person on my mind as I stared at my future, and I wanted to keep it that way. “And possessive! Dump him! They are cool, better, and richer men in this very room, and that is why we are here, so you can meet them.” Ama was grounded, already irritated. “No. I am here because I want to meet with prominent figures and socialize and mingle. This is for my career. Not to seek out men like a vulture.” I corrected her, and she rolled her eyes. Ama stood straight and forced me to do the same as she watched me in horror. “Sophia, don’t be foolish. You are beautiful, what with your dashing auburn hair and amazing shape and this dress you’re in? You can get anybody and anything you want tonight. The artists in this room….” “I don’t want to talk about bland musicians. They are all boring and proud and arrogant. Did you know someone bumped into me earlier?” “That is usually mild flirtation! Sophia who? Was it Ryan Knight? I heard he is here somewhere!” Ama squealed. “I don’t know who it was, but I can bet a hundred million that even Ryan is also bland, proud, boring, arrogant and thinks the whole world revolves around him…” “Sophia!” Ama hushed me, throwing her head back and laughing, but she wasn’t looking at me. I continued my monologue, having more fun than I would care to admit. “What? I am right! I can also bet he smells like s**t and he is bad in bed! I heard mummy’s boys are always bad in bed….” “That is the most interesting way I have been described.” A cold and icy masculine voice said from behind me, and I froze, my world coming to a standstill. I didn’t turn around immediately, but I could already guess who it was; when I eventually turned around, the rest of my world shattered. I knew him. I had seen him in news and magazines and from a distance, but now, handsome millionaire rockstar Ryan Knight, with a net worth of over seven hundred million dollars, was standing in front of me, brooding and unsmiling. “Mr. Ryan. What did you hear?” I asked foolishly, trying not to appear as nervous as I really felt. “Sophia!” Ama silently scolded, but I wasn’t listening. “Enough. You don’t look like your words,” he muttered as he leaned in, icy glare bored me “And how do you mean, Mr. Ryan?” I asked, lifting my chin up so I could stare back into his piercing green eyes. All I could say was that his pictures didn’t do him justice; Ryan looked like a fallen angel. Calling him a demon would probably be wiser, but then he looked like he was a literal angel, like his sad green eyes could cure you of any sickness and his face as soft as a cloud would promise you eternal life. I was entranced. “Simply that your words sound more serious than your face looks.” He replied, and I opened my mouth to speak but left it open. I didn’t know if I should feel complimented or insulted. Ama laughed. “Is that an insult, Mr. Knight?” I asked him, and he didn’t smile; his face remained unreadable. “Don’t call me that. Ryan.” He said instead, and I swallowed as my stomach fluttered. There was something about his voice. “You don’t smell,” I whispered, as my words lost their meaning in my head; he smelled intoxicating. He was too close, and I was going mad. The hall was suddenly too quiet for me to think. “Well, that has been corrected. You want to know how I do in bed now?” He asked me next, and it was then my brain stopped pretending to function. “You don’t know that I want that.” I argued, and he finally broke a smirk. It was suddenly too hot in the hall, and the party was barely halfway through. “I know what you want,” Ryan said, his voice dark like a promise. “Is that what you think?” I muttered, too weak for it to be a question. Someone save me! “I don’t care what you want though; I know what I want, and it is you. Tonight.” Ryan replied; he picked up another drink and handed it over to me. I took a sip because I needed it and swallowed awkwardly. “What do I get in return?” I asked, daring to dream. “I can’t give more than I have to offer; I don’t have a heart, so I won’t promise you love. One night, a brand new Lamborghini.” He cooed, and my eyes widened as a thousand emotions coursed through me. My tongue was too heavy to speak, so he continued. “That’s my deal. The question is… can you handle it?”