CHAPTER TEN: DINNER PARTY
1180 Words
The invitation arrived on a Tuesday.
Black envelope. Gold seal. No return address.
Carmen handed it to me at breakfast. Her face was pale.
"What is it?" I asked.
"Read it."
I opened the envelope. The card inside was thick. Expensive. The words were printed in gold.
You are cordially invited to a dinner at the home of Mr. Alexander Black. Black tie. Saturday. Eight o'clock.
Below the invitation, a handwritten note. Alexander's writing.
"Wear the red dress. Don't embarrass me."
"Why is there a dinner?" I asked.
Carmen didn't look at me. "Mr. Black hosts events sometimes. Business associates. Investors. People he wants to impress."
"Why am I going?"
"Because you're his." Carmen finally looked at me. "And he wants to show you off."
My stomach turned.
"I'm not going."
"You don't have a choice."
"I'm not a trophy."
"To them, you are." Carmen picked up the invitation. "To them, you're the woman Mr. Black bought. The woman he keeps in his house. The woman who wears his collar."
"The collar is hidden."
"Not at this dinner." Carmen set the invitation down. "He wants you to wear it. Outside. For everyone to see."
"No."
"Señorita"
"I said no."
Carmen was quiet. Then: "You should tell him that. Not me."
She left.
I sat at the table. The invitation was still in my hand. The gold words blurred.
Wear the red dress. Don't embarrass me.
I wanted to burn it.
Instead, I folded it carefully. Put it in my pocket. Walked to the writing room.
I didn't write.
I stared at the wall.
And I waited.
He found me there at noon.
He was wearing a suit. Black. Expensive. His hair was perfect. His face was unreadable.
"You got the invitation," he said.
"Yes."
"You're wearing the red dress."
"No."
"Ava"
"I'm not a trophy. I'm not a possession. I'm not something you show off to your friends."
"They're not my friends. They're my investors."
"What's the difference?"
He walked to the desk. Sat on the edge. Looked down at me.
"The difference is money. Friends take. Investors give." He paused. "And right now, I need them to give."
"You're a billionaire. Why do you need money?"
"Because I'm building something. Something big. Something that will change Madrid." His hand touched my face. "And I need you to help me."
"How? By wearing a collar? By playing dress-up? By smiling at men who see me as a w***e?"
His jaw tightened. "No one will see you as a whore."
"That's exactly what they'll see. Because that's what I am. The woman you bought."
"You're not a whore."
"Then what am I?"
He was quiet. His hand dropped from my face.
"You're mine," he said. "That's what you are."
"That's not an answer."
"It's the only answer I have."
I stood. Walked to the window. Looked out at the garden.
"I'll wear the red dress," I said.
"Good."
"I'll wear the collar."
"Good."
"I'll smile at your investors."
"Good."
"But I won't pretend I'm happy."
He walked to me. Stopped behind me. His hands rested on my shoulders.
"I'm not asking you to be happy," he said. "I'm asking you to be mine."
"You already own me."
"Then act like it."
I turned. Faced him.
"Fine," I said. "But after this dinner, you owe me."
"What do I owe you?"
I looked at him. His gray eyes were dark. Waiting.
"Another visit to my father," I said.
He nodded. "Done."
"And the key to my collar."
He paused. "No."
"Alexander"
"The collar stays. That's not negotiable."
"Then I'm not negotiable either."
I walked out.
He didn't follow
Saturday arrived too fast.
Carmen spent the afternoon getting me ready. Bath. Hair. Makeup. The red dress.
It was shorter than I remembered. Tighter. The neckline dropped low. The fabric showed everything.
"You look beautiful," Carmen said.
"I look like a whore."
"You look like a woman who owns the room."
I looked at myself in the mirror. The collar was around my neck. The silver rings caught the light. Anyone who looked would know. Anyone who looked would see.
I was his.
The door opened. Alexander walked in.
He was wearing a tuxedo. Black jacket. White shirt. Bow tie. His hair was perfect. His face was unreadable.
He looked at me.
His eyes moved down my body. Slow. Deliberate.
"Turn," he said.
I turned.
"Come here."
I walked to him.
His hand touched my face. His thumb traced my cheekbone.
"You're beautiful," he said.
"I'm your trophy."
"You're my everything." He leaned closer. His lips brushed my ear. "Tonight, you'll smile. You'll charm. You'll make every man in that room wish they were me."
"And what will you do?"
"I'll watch. And I'll remember that you come home with me."
He kissed me. Hard. Demanding.
Then he pulled back.
"Let's go."
The house was full of people.
Men in tuxedos. Women in gowns. Champagne. Music. Laughter.
I stood beside Alexander. My hand on his arm. My smile fixed.
"Mr. Black," a man said. Old. Gray hair. Fat fingers. "So good to see you."
"Mr. Delgado. This is Ava."
The man looked at me. His eyes dropped to my neck. To the collar.
"Lovely," he said. "Absolutely lovely."
"Thank you," I said.
"Where did you find her?"
"She found me," Alexander said.
The man laughed. "Lucky man."
"Lucky woman," I said.
The man's eyes widened. Alexander's hand tightened on mine.
"Yes," the man said. "Lucky woman."
He walked away.
Alexander leaned closer. "Careful," he said.
"I'm always careful."
"You're always dangerous."
"That's why you bought me."
He almost smiled.
The night went on.
More men. More women. More champagne. More smiles.
Every one of them looked at my neck.
Every one of them knew.
By ten o'clock, I was exhausted.
"I want to leave," I said.
"Not yet."
"Alexander"
"One more hour."
"No. Now."
He looked at me. His gray eyes were cold.
"The contract says"
"The contract says you own my body. It doesn't say you own my exhaustion."
He was quiet. Then he nodded.
"Wait in the car," he said. "I'll be there in ten minutes."
I walked out.
The night air was cold. The stars were bright. The car was waiting.
I climbed inside. Closed my eyes.
The door opened. Alexander slid in beside me.
"You did well tonight," he said.
"I did what you asked."
"You did more." He took my hand. "You made them want you."
"I don't want to be wanted."
"Too late."
He kissed me. Soft. Slow.
"Take me home," I said.
"I am home."
"No." I looked at him. "Take me to bed."
He smiled. Real this time.
"Yes, ma'am."
The car drove through the gates. The house swallowed us. He led me upstairs. To the bedroom.
He closed the door.
"Tonight," he said, "you're not my trophy."
"Then what am I?"
He pulled me close.
"You're mine," he said. "And I'm going to show you exactly what that means."
He kissed me.
And for the first time, I kissed him back like I belonged there.
- Writer
