Engaged To One Brother But Craved By The Other

6. Engagement Party

Only then did Emily realize Nicholas’s shameless eyes were fixed on her soaked dress — on the hard outline of her n*****s beneath the fabric that clung dangerously to her skin.

She pushed him back, voice sharp. “You’re my brother-in-law, yet you act so shameless all the time.”

“Brother-in-law,” Nicholas echoed, a faint smirk tugging at his lips. “That name sounds so good on your lips, sister-in-law. Say it again.”

He leaned in, his breath warm against her ear.

“You’re unbelievable.” Emily turned away, anger rising through the embarrassment. He was impossible — a walking disaster. She stormed off, found Emma and Freya, and practically dragged them out of the club.

The taxi driver helped her carry the two girls into the living room, where they collapsed on the couch. After throwing a blanket over them, Emily finally let herself breathe.

She showered, letting the cold water run over her face, but her thoughts refused to calm.

Nicholas holding the gun.

The rage in his eyes.

The seriousness in his voice.

That Nicholas wasn’t drunk or wild — he was dangerous, purposeful. And yet… that same man had teased her moments later like it was all a joke.

His parents were murdered. The plane crash that had once dominated the news wasn’t an accident after all.

She shut off the water, shaking her head. Better not get involved in the Valencia business. Even Nicholas has two faces.

The next morning, Emily made hangover soup before waking Emma and Freya.

“It feels like I was hit by a train,” Freya groaned.

“I feel worse,” Emma mumbled.

Emily smiled faintly and returned to the living room where the ten dresses lay untouched.

She was supposed to pick three for tonight — the engagement party.

Her friends noticed the dresses and gasped, instantly more awake.

“Wow, this is gorgeous!” Emma said, holding up a silk dress with a slit running dangerously high.

“These are for the engagement?” Freya blinked, stunned.

“Sent by the Valencias,” Emily said flatly. “Madam Catherine asked me to choose three.”

“Engagement party?” they shouted in unison.

Before she could protest, they grabbed the dresses and dragged her to her bedroom.

“Emily, are you crazy? This is a huge day and you’re not even excited!” Emma said.

Emily frowned. “I don’t love him.”

“Then at least love the process,” Emma countered. “Or it’ll feel worse.”

Freya pulled out a sequined gold dress, holding it to the light. “Try this one, girl. You’re going to be the center of attention.”

“I don’t want to,” Emily groaned, but the girls were relentless.

One by one, they helped her try on every dress, rating each one like professional stylists until they picked three favorites — one for the ceremony, one for the engagement moment, and one for the after-dinner celebration.

For the first time in days, Emily smiled. Their laughter filled the house, and even the unopened boxes from Madam Catherine revealed breathtaking shoes and jewelry.

“Emily, you didn’t just get engaged to Noah Valencia,” Freya teased, twirling around with a necklace. “His grandmother practically adores you.”

"But you didn’t even invite us to your engagement party?" Freya pouted.

Emily’s face lit up. "Do you guys want to come?"

"Of course!" the girls yelled in unison.

After picking out the necklace and dresses, they made food to eat.

"You shouldn’t eat too much, or you’ll feel sleepy on such a big day," Emma said, handing Emily a small portion of the food they made.

Emily shook her head and took the plate anyway.

Freya rolled her eyes. "We know you’re a glutton, so eat without pretending you care about Emily’s figure."

As the two bickered, Emily’s mind drifted. The after-party dress Emma and Freya had picked out was a black sleeveless gown with a high slit. It was stunning—but she’d been to the Valencia household before, and she’d seen the way Nicholas acted. Her chest constricted at the thought. Why did she seem to fear him? She told herself she would wear whatever she liked—and if he stepped out of line, she would put him in his place.

After they ate, the girls began raiding Emily’s closet to find something to wear. By the time she finished showering and stepped out, her whole room was a mess.

"What the hell happened?" Emily shouted.

Freya was curling her hair while Emma was busy working on her face.

"This is a Valencia party—high-end men will definitely show up. I have to look my best. Who knows, I might meet my Mr. Right at your engagement party," Emma said delightedly.

Did meeting Mr. Right involve turning her room into a war zone? All her dresses were scattered on the floor—casual wears mixed with party clothes in total chaos.

"No one is leaving until my room is back to the way it was before this disaster," Emily warned, looking horrified. Still, there was a warmth in the little room, laughter bouncing off the walls.

Emma pulled her to a stool and sat her down before grabbing her makeup box.

"What are you doing?" Emily asked.

"Working on your hair and makeup. I’m sure you don’t want to take your everyday look to your engagement party," Emma said, not waiting for a reply as she started on her face. Freya soon joined in, taking over her hair.

It seemed to be a tough one, but they finally settled on a look Emily approved of—simple, but still fabulous.

She slipped into her dress while Emma and Freya tidied the room. For a moment, she couldn’t help but stare at her reflection in the mirror. A beautiful woman stared back—a halter-top silk dress hugging her frame, showing off her fair skin and delicate collarbones.

Emma appeared behind her, smiling. "You look gorgeous, Emily. Even if this Noah Valencia isn’t in love with you, he should still be proud to have such a beautiful bride."

Emily nodded and laughed softly, but Freya suddenly leaned in behind her, grinning. "Emily, you’re going to help your friend, right? You’re going to introduce me to Nicholas Valencia."

The smile on Emily’s face faltered. Something tugged at her chest, and suddenly the dress felt too revealing, too exposed.

Emma noticed instantly. "Are you okay?"

Emily nodded, forcing a smile. "I’m sure you’ll meet him yourself," she said lightly. "He has a way of making an entrance."

"I'll book us a ride," Emma said as they walked out. But before she could finish, they noticed a Bentley Mulsanne parked outside Emily’s house. The girls gasped as the tinted window slid down and a chauffeur stepped out, bowing respectfully.

"I was sent by Madam Catherine Valencia to take you to the engagement party," the man said, bowing again.

Emily and her friends stood frozen for a moment before finally stepping into the luxurious car. Within minutes, they were speeding through the city toward the grand Valencia mansion.

"God, for one split second, I want to be Emily Duke. Grant me this wish, Messiah," Freya joked, pressing a hand dramatically over her heart.

When the car stopped, the chauffeur stepped out and opened Emily’s door. The instant her heels touched the ground, flashes erupted in her face—camera lights blinding her vision. She blinked rapidly, caught off guard. She hadn’t even realized a crowd of reporters had gathered at the entrance.

Panic coiled inside her chest as the flashes kept coming. Two heavily built men stepped forward, guiding her through the crowd while questions fired from every direction.

"Are you the future daughter-in-law of the Valencia family?"

"Why did you arrive in the Valencia’s private car?"

Emily kept silent, her throat tightening. Only when she reached the entrance did she notice that the chauffeur hadn’t allowed Freya and Emma to step out of the car until she was safely inside.

Finally able to breathe, Emily barely had a moment to gather herself before a group of maids appeared and whisked her toward Madam Catherine.

"You look elegant, my dear," Madam Catherine said with a proud smile, "but we must make you flawless for the announcement."

Flawless? Emily thought as she was ushered away once again.

The outfit she’d chosen earlier was brought in, and within minutes, a small team surrounded her—styling her hair, brushing makeup across her face, adjusting the fabric of her gown. When they finally stepped back, she almost didn’t recognize the woman staring back at her in the mirror.

"You look fabulous, Miss," one of the makeup artists said before exiting, leaving Emily alone in the quiet room.

This wasn’t the life she wanted. Being tied to the Valencia name meant losing her own voice—her choices swallowed by their influence.

The door creaked open. Her heart fluttered involuntarily, but the feeling quickly sank when she saw Noah step in. She silently chastised herself—who had she been expecting?

Noah’s expression was unreadable as he approached. He didn’t smile. His eyes swept over her once, cold and assessing.

"Let’s go," he said simply.