His to Consume

State of Confusion

Lena's POV

That night, I laid on the bed thinking about the series of events that had transpired over the past weeks. No, I was aware that I could not alter history, but I could envisage a better tomorrow. And that tomorrow had no place for Grant or anyone else for that matter.

In the morning, I woke up resolved. I was going to show Damien and, more importantly, myself that I could be a worthy person without him. And even if it proved to be the hardest thing to do, I was going to go out there and fight for him, for us.

Damien entered my office, an envelope in hand, ready to take over. I was so entrenched in work, trying to organize several bits and pieces into place, that I hardly noticed him. He coughed politely, my attention diverted from my work, and when I looked up, he was right beside my desk with an unreadable look on his face.

"Lena," he began, after a moment's silence, and extended the envelope to me. "This was delivered this morning. It is an invitation for an awards gala. Your organization is one of those on the guest list."

I raised an eyebrow, surprised. "There is an award night? Are you serious?"

Damien confirmed, as I accepted the invitation from him. "Yes. The awards this year are presented for excellence in business development. In view, they appear to be awarding those organizations which have developed and spearheaded improvements."

I felt a wave of joy. It has been a tough year, and this invitation was a clear testament that we were indeed going to reap the fruits of our labor. "This is fantastic, Damien," I said, breaking into a smile. "I appreciate you informing me."

He offered a slight bow of his head, the habitual restrained formality of his ever present. He was about to walk away, but something in me made me call out to him before he reached the exit door.

"Damien," I finally spoke, although hesitantly. He halted his movements and turned to face me, expectant. I inhaled. "Would you...would you be my date to the gala?"

Some warmth appeared in his face, but he also seemed a bit to take care of himself at the same time. "Of course, lady," he said. It was polite rather than the affection I wanted it to be. He inclined his head shortly after, before striding out of the office and leaving me with a vague discontent. He did say yes, but the way he had done it made me feel like there was something off. Nevertheless, I was excited about the upcoming night and chose not to dwell on such thoughts.

Later that afternoon, I resolutely came to the conclusion that the day had finally arrived to shop for the appropriate dress for the occasion. I finished work a little bit ahead of schedule. I ambitiously made my way to the city's upscale mall in the hope of spending some peaceful time admiring gorgeous dresses along with a variety of accessories. You see, I wanted to stand out at the gala not only because of my organization, but because of Damien as well. I wanted to prove to him that I could be the woman he was looking for and the one who was respectable and trustworthy.

I walked into a few more shops and went through a few more dresses and even more changes, trying to find one that fit. An hour later, I found myself in a shop that specialized in sophisticated cocktail dresses. I was in awe at the sight of this long, deep-blue dress that sparkled under the lights when I heard a voice behind me.

"Well, well, isn't this a turn of events?" The voice had a level of condescension that made me tense up immediately.

After this, the man turned back and saw that Grant's mother, VerenaWells, was a few feet away, looking back with contempt. She was dressed to kill as always in a fitted power suit that seemed to shout pure class and high social standing. She surveyed me with her steely eyes as if assessing a badly dressed girl who had strayed into an upscale establishment.

"Mrs. Wells," was my monotone reply as I nodded my head up and down to greet her. Somehow, I was better prepared for the confrontation; however, I still did not like the way she looked at me.

She lifted her chin, an insufferable expression of faux surprise on her face. "Didn't expect to see you here, Lena. Shopping for something special?" Her gaze dropped to the dress I was holding. "Or are you simply checking out a 'best buy' dress that is unfortunately not for you?"

I inhaled deeply, steadied myself. "I actually have a function to go to," I said, meeting her stare unflinchingly. "I just thought I could get something cute."

Verena was taken aback for a fraction of a second. "A function? How cute, I suppose such places can be so lenient these days." She surveyed the area, her look at me irritated because clearly this is not a dress for someone like me.

I felt my cheeks burn in rage, but I made sure that she could not see that she had gotten to me. "I am sorry to say, but I am here hoping to attend an awards gala because my company has been selected to be honored for their achievements this year," I said, controlling my voice.

"Oh, the awards dinner," she chuckled, a pungent playfulness edging her features. "Yes, it is quite a season. Even though this year they seem to have many more such. Obviously, Grant's firm has been invited too. I find it quite beyond belief that in such surroundings you would be at ease."

It pained knowing that there was some truth in what she said, but I refused to show any sign of weakness. "I don't think any of that will be a problem for me," I said resolutely.

Her eyes raked over me, finally focusing on the garment I held. "Well, if that is what you're going to throw on, at least you will look... dragged out. Although I must say, I do hope that you will not disgrace yourself, sweetie. Those affairs have a little bit of... class about them."

I felt another wave of irritation build up, although I managed to keep my voice steady. "Thank you for your concern, Mrs. Wells. I think I will be quite alright. I know how to behave myself."