As I pull up to Valarie's apartment building, I can't help but notice the difference between this place and the neighborhoods I'm used to. It's not that her building is bad—it's well-kept, clean, even charming in a way—but it's definitely not what I'm accustomed to. The streets here are narrower, the buildings more compact, and there's a certain hustle and bustle to the area that's absent in the quiet, sprawling neighborhoods I grew up in. I've always been surrounded by wealth, by homes with gates and long driveways, by lawns that seem to stretch forever. Here, the city is more alive.

I park my car—a sleek, black Aston Martin that blends into the night like a shadow—right out front and check my watch. She told me she'd come down instead of having me come up, which I'm grateful for. Not that I mind the idea of seeing where she lives, but I imagine her apartment is as different from mine as her building is from my parents' estate.

I lean against the car, watching the entrance, and after a moment, the door swings open, and Valarie steps out.

And damn, she's a sight to behold.

She's wearing a dark green dress that clings to her curves in all the right places, the fabric shimmering slightly under the streetlights. The color makes her green eyes stand out even more, like emeralds against her fair skin. The dress has a low neckline, revealing just enough to be alluring without crossing the line into overt, and the skirt flares out slightly, falling just below her knees. Her auburn hair is styled in loose waves, cascading over her shoulders, and her lips are painted a deep, rich red. She looks like she's stepped out of a classic film, a mix of elegance and sensuality that takes my breath away.

I straighten up as she approaches, and I can't help the small smile that tugs at my lips. She's stunning, and the thought that she's here with me, that I get to be the one on her arm tonight, sends a thrill through me.

"Wow," I say as she reaches me, my voice low. "You look... incredible."

She blushes slightly, her cheeks tinged with a delicate pink, and I open the car door for her, taking her hand to help her in. Her skin is soft, warm, and I feel a jolt of something I can't quite name when our hands touch. It's like electricity, a spark that travels up my arm and settles somewhere in my chest. It reminds me of the kiss she left on my cheek.

"Thank you," she murmurs, her voice just as soft as she slips into the passenger seat. I close the door behind her, taking a moment to collect myself before walking around to the driver's side.

I slide into the car, the leather seats cool against my skin, and I glance over at her as I start the engine. She looks... nervous, maybe a little out of her element, and it makes me want to put her at ease, to make sure she feels comfortable tonight. This world—the one we're about to step into—isn't hers. It's mine, with all its pretenses and expectations, and I don't want her to feel out of place. I want her to enjoy herself, to see that there's more to this life than just the surface-level bullshit.

The drive to the gala is smooth, the city lights blurring past us as I navigate the familiar streets. I can feel her eyes on me occasionally, like she's studying me, trying to figure me out. I don't mind it. In fact, I like that she's curious, that she's not just accepting things at face value. It's one of the things I admire about her—she's thoughtful, perceptive, not easily swayed by appearances.

As we pull up to the event, I glance over at her, watching as her eyes widen slightly in awe. The gala is being held at one of the most prestigious venues in the city, a grand old building with towering columns and a sweeping staircase leading up to the entrance. It's the kind of place that screams money, the kind of place where people go to see and be seen.

"I've never been to an event like this before," she says, her voice tinged with wonder as she takes in the sight before her.

I can't help but smile at her reaction. There's something endearing about the way she's looking at everything, like a kid in a candy store. "It's just a bunch of people pretending they're more important than they are," I tell her, but my tone is light, teasing. "But I guess it's nice to look at."

She glances over at me, her lips curving into a small smile. "Still, it's impressive."

I pull up to the front of the building, where a valet is waiting to take the car. I hand over the keys, then walk around to Valarie's side, opening her door and offering her my hand again. She takes it, and I help her out of the car, feeling that same spark when our skin touches. I tuck her hand into the bend of my arm.

As we walk up the stairs, I'm hyper-aware of the eyes on us. This is a world where everyone knows everyone, where connections are made and broken with a handshake, where reputation is everything. I can feel the weight of those gazes, judging, assessing, trying to place who she is, who I am. But more than that, I can feel my father's eyes on us, watching our every move.

The moment we step inside, it's like stepping into another world. The room is filled with people dressed to the nines, the air thick with the scent of expensive perfume and the low hum of conversation. Crystal chandeliers hang from the ceiling, casting a soft, warm light over everything, and the walls are lined with mirrors, making the room seem even larger than it is.

I lean in close to Valarie, my voice low as I guide her toward the bar. "I need a drink, and trust me, you're going to need one too if you're going to survive my family."

She glances up at me, her eyes wide with curiosity. "They can't be that bad."

I let out a soft chuckle, shaking my head. "Just you wait."

We reach the bar, and I order us both a drink, something strong enough to take the edge off. As we wait for the bartender to prepare them, I steal a glance at her. She's still taking everything in, her eyes wide with wonder, and I can't help but feel a strange mix of pride and protectiveness. She doesn't belong in this world—not really—but here she is, holding her own, not letting herself be intimidated.

When our drinks arrive, I hand her a glass, watching as she takes a sip. She doesn't flinch at the strength of the liquor, just nods appreciatively.

"So," I say, leaning against the bar, "what do you think so far?"

She looks around, her eyes lingering on the chandelier above us, on the people milling about in their designer clothes. "Honestly? It's a little overwhelming," she admits. "But it's also kind of amazing. I mean, look at this place. It's like something out of a movie."

I smile at that, taking a sip of my drink. "Yeah, it does have that effect."

We stand there for a moment, just taking it all in, and I realize that despite everything, I'm glad she's here. I'm glad I asked her to come. There's something grounding about her presence, something that makes all of this seem less suffocating.

The moment we step away from the bar, I feel the tension in my shoulders tighten just a bit. I know what's coming next, and it's the part of the evening I've been dreading since the moment I asked Valarie to accompany me to this gala. Introducing her to my parents feels like walking into a lion's den, and though I know Valarie can hold her own, there's a part of me that doesn't want her to have to.

As we make our way through the crowd, I spot them easily—my father's tall, imposing figure, and my mother, elegant as always, her expression as neutral as it ever is at these kinds of events. They're surrounded by a small group of guests, laughing and chatting, perfectly playing the roles they've mastered over the years. My father's presence is undeniable, the kind of man who commands attention without even trying. He's talking animatedly with a senator and his wife, his laughter a little too loud, his hand gripping a crystal tumbler filled with amber liquid.

My mother stands beside him, offering polite smiles and quiet nods, her gaze sharp as she scans the room. She's always been the more reserved of the two, her words calculated, her demeanor cool and collected. The opposite to my father's more boisterous nature, but somehow, they've made it work all these years. They're the epitome of a power couple—untouchable, intimidating, and more often than not, exhausting to be around.

As we approach, I feel Valarie's hand tighten slightly on my arm, and I glance down at her. She looks composed, but I can see the slight furrow of her brow, the way her lips press together in a way that tells me she's nervous. I squeeze her hand gently, offering what I hope is a reassuring smile.

When we finally reach my parents, my father is the first to notice us. His eyes flicker over to me, a hint of curiosity in them as he takes in the sight of Valarie at my side. The senator says something that makes him laugh again, but it's clear his attention is now focused on us.

"Well, well, if it isn't my son," my father says, his voice carrying easily over the noise of the crowd. He turns to the senator and his wife, a broad smile on his face. "I'd like you to meet my boy, Adrian. And who is this lovely young lady?"

The senator's wife, a woman with perfectly coiffed hair and a dress that probably costs more than my car, smiles warmly at Valarie. "How wonderful to meet you both," she says, her voice sugary sweet. "It's always a pleasure to see the younger generation attending these events. Such a lovely couple."

"Thank you," Valarie replies, her voice steady. "It's nice to meet you as well."

My father's gaze sharpens as he studies Valarie, and I can practically see the gears turning in his head. He's trying to place her, trying to figure out which family she belongs to, which connections she brings to the table. I can't blame him—it's what he does, what he's been trained to do in a world where every relationship, every interaction, is a potential business opportunity.

"Father, Mother," I say, keeping my voice even, "this is Valarie. She's my date for the evening."

My mother's eyes flicker over Valarie, her expression giving nothing away, but I can tell she's making her own assessments. "Valarie," she says, her tone polite but distant. "It's a pleasure to meet you. Adrian rarely brings guests to these events."

Valarie offers a small smile, but I can see the nerves in the way her fingers tighten around her clutch. "Thank you for having me," she replies, her voice soft but clear.

My father raises an eyebrow, his gaze never leaving Valarie. "Valarie, you say? And where are you from, dear?"

And there it is—the question I knew was coming. The one that will determine whether or not my father decides she's worth his time. I feel a knot form in my stomach as I wait for her answer, but Valarie doesn't miss a beat.

"I'm originally from a small town upstate," she says smoothly, "but I've been living in the city for a few years now."

My father nods slowly, as if weighing her words, and I can see him filing that information away, trying to decide if it's worth probing further. But before he can ask anything else, I step in.

"We were just on our way to the silent auction," I say, cutting off any further interrogation. "I wanted to show Valarie some of the items they have up for bid this year."

My mother's lips curve into a small, almost imperceptible smile. "Of course," she says, her tone light. "It's always a highlight of the evening. Enjoy yourselves."

I nod and guide Valarie away from them, feeling the tension in my shoulders ease slightly as we put some distance between us and my parents. As we walk, I glance down at Valarie, trying to gauge her reaction. She seems calm, collected, but I know better than to take that at face value.

"I'm sorry about that," I say quietly. "They can be... intense."

Valarie looks up at me, a small smile on her lips. "It's okay," she says. "I expected as much. They weren't rude or anything."

"No, they weren't," I agree, though I know my father was probably holding back more questions. "But still... I didn't want you to feel uncomfortable."

She shakes her head, her smile widening just a bit. "I'm fine, Adrian. Really. I know this is your world, not mine, but I'm not completely out of my depth."

I can't help but smile at that. She's tougher than she looks, and I'm glad for it. She's handling this better than I expected, and it makes me admire her all the more.

We reach the section of the ballroom where the silent auction is being held, and I can see Valarie's eyes widen again as she takes in the sight. The items on display are as extravagant as they are varied—everything from fine art and jewelry to vacation packages and rare wines. It's a showcase of wealth and excess, and I can tell it's not something Valarie is used to.

"Have you ever participated in a silent auction before?" I ask, trying to keep the conversation light.

She shakes her head, her gaze sweeping over the items on display. "No, I haven't. This is... incredible. And kind of overwhelming."

I chuckle softly. "Yeah, it can be. The idea is to place a bid on the items you want, and the highest bid at the end of the night wins. It's all for charity, of course, but it can get pretty competitive."

Valarie nods, still taking it all in. "I don't think I could even afford to place a bid," she says with a laugh. "This stuff is way out of my price range."

I smile at that, leaning in closer. "You don't have to worry about that," I tell her. "If there's anything you like, I'll place a bid for you."

She looks up at me, surprise flickering in her eyes. "That's sweet, but I don't think any of this is really my taste," she says, her voice soft. "It's beautiful, but... not really me, you know?"

I nod, understanding completely. "Fair enough. But if you see anything that catches your eye, just let me know."

We continue to browse the auction items, and I'm relieved that Valarie doesn't seem to be intimidated by any of it. In fact, she's handling herself with more grace and composure than most people I know. I can tell she's curious, fascinated even, but she's not overwhelmed. And that makes me feel a little more at ease, knowing that she's comfortable here, with me.

As we walk, I catch sight of my father across the room, his eyes still fixed on us, watching our every move. I know he's analyzing Valarie, trying to figure out who she is, where she comes from, and what she means to me. And though I don't care about his opinion as much as I used to, there's still a part of me that wants his approval. But more than that, I want Valarie to see me for who I am, not who my parents want me to be.

After a while, we find ourselves at the edge of the ballroom, near a set of large, glass doors that lead out to a terrace. The night air is cool and refreshing, and I can see the city lights twinkling in the distance. It's a beautiful view, and I can't resist the urge to take her outside, away from the noise and the crowd, just for a moment.

"Want to step outside for a bit?" I ask, gesturing to the terrace.

Valarie nods, her eyes bright. "Yeah, I'd like that."

We step out onto the terrace, and the noise of the party fades into the background, replaced by the soft hum of the city below. The air is cool, a welcome contrast to the warmth of the ballroom, and I take a deep breath, feeling some of the tension in my chest ease.