Playing the Rich Game

Urghh.

My frown deepens as I stare at the black bodycon sleeveless dress I have on. It is beautiful, no doubt, lined with little diamond stones and doing an amazing job of highlighting my curves. But something is missing.

"Dalia, I think you look good. This is the third dress you've tried on," Karen groans and pours another shot of tequila into her mouth.

At this rate, she'll be drunk before we get to the gala.

"I know it looks good, but I don't want to look good. I want to look dashing, amazing, gorgeous," I reply, tugging on the zipper until it gives way and the dress falls to the ground, exposing my matching nude underwear.

"Who’s this guy again?" she asks, pouring herself another shot.

I should stop her, but her drunk ass might be useful at some point tonight.

"His name is Dante Stone. I've been with him for the past two months. He's a bit of a crackhead and, needless to say, stupid. He's been useful for a few million, but I'm done with him. If there's a kind of victim you shouldn't hang around for too long, it's the plain, unassuming, and often unintelligent men," I finish, tugging another dress off the hanger.

Karen nods. She probably hears nothing I said, but she nods anyway. I step into the red dress. It is an old treasure, something I had completely forgotten about until now. I bought it a few months ago in Spain when I was trying to get to a Northern prince.

Did it work? Hell yes.

If gorgeous was a dress, this would be it. It is a short corset dress that stops right below my ass, long enough to cover the subject matter but short enough to attract attention. I smile at my reflection. It is exactly what I need: not slutty, but the right combination of sexy and elegant. I pair it with pump silver heels and some silver jewelry.

"Get your ass up, K. We're gonna be late," I say as I grab my white purse from my closet and my car keys from the desk.

"Well, whose fault is that? You're the one who needed to try on all the dresses in your damn closet," she replies groggily. But I can hear her following behind me, and that is good enough, so I don't reply. Instead, I wait for her in the car outside and watch as she barely makes it in on her feet. I don't care, honestly. She isn't my responsibility, and I sure as hell will not play nanny, especially tonight of all nights.

The drive is short since the road is free and thankfully, Karen stays quiet, staring outside the window all through.

The huge hall comes into view, brightly lit and crowded with various luxury cars.

"We're here. Try not to embarrass yourself," I say to her as I turn off the car engine and step out of my Ford Ranger.

"Oh please, this isn't my first rodeo," she scoffs, putting on her sunglasses and strutting into the hall.

Who the fuck wears sunglasses at night? They're called fucking SUNglasses for a reason!

Like I said earlier, playing nanny isn't on my list tonight. First, I need to find Dante and close his chapter once and for all.

I grab a glass of wine from a table as soon as I walk in and hold it between my well-manicured nails, taking in the environment and everyone around. It's a skill I learned from a young age, and it not only helps me identify certain threats in an environment but also-

I feel a hand snake around my waist and immediately jerk away to turn around.

Dante.

“You scared me,” I say simply, regaining my composure.

“Oh I'm sorry sweetheart, I wasn't trying to give you a scare, I just wanted to give you a nice surprise,” he replies with his annoying smile.

“Well I knew you'd be here so what's the use of trying to surprise me,” I roll my eyes.

Dante isn't a looker, but he tries to make up for that by wearing the most expensive things. But that can only distract a person for so long. He is blonde and a bit chubby but not so much that it's irritating. He has blue glassy eyes, one of the things that fascinated me about him.

“I'm sorry sweetheart,” he says, dropping his glass of wine on the nearest tray and reaching for me once more.

I step out of his reach, “I'm not interested in an apology Dante,” I reply coldly.

His face visibly falls, and this is my chance to land the final blow.

“I'm not doing this with you anymore,” I say with finality.

I hand him my glass of wine and press his fingers around it, rubbing his shoulder tenderly. “Say hi to Trish for me,”

I walk away without sparing him a backward glance, Trish is his daughter from his ex-wife, but she is such a sweetheart and unlike her dad, I think I might miss her for a bit.

I can see heads turn as I walk past the crowd of people, and I mentally applaud myself for a job well done. I would say I'm surprised at how I'm able to capture the attention of every room I enter but sincerely I'm not. I've seen my reflection and I honestly turn myself on.

The soft music that is playing in the background comes to a stop and a deep alluring voice captures everyone's attention.

“Good evening beautiful people,” the voice says and I can't help but look around until I find the owner.

“It's a beautiful evening today and I'm glad you all could make it. I just want to remind everyone here that we only live once, and it better be one hell of a lifetime,” he finishes and raises a glass.

Soft murmurs and chuckles follow as he exits the stage, but for some reason, I keep staring at him. Something about his aura has me in a chokehold and I can't seem to look away. His tall lanky but well-built frame and his composure as he walks back into the crowd are by far the most captivating thing here.

“That's Tristen King,” Karen's voice makes me almost jump again but I only jerk a little.

“Of course I know that,” I reply, rolling my eyes.

Of course, I know who he is, I don't think there's a person connected to the internet who doesn't. But it's the first time I've been in the same room with him, and seen him up close.

“You were staring a lot so I thought you didn't,” she shrugs and gulps down the rest of her wine.

“Are you okay?” I can't help but ask.

“Yeah, I'm good. See you around,” she says and runs off into the crowd until her lilac dress gets lost in the sea of people.

She's not okay, but I'll deal with that later.

“Dalia,” Dante's voice brings my attention to his presence next to me.

He has only ever called me by my name on very rare occasions.

“Dante,” I reply in the same tone.

“I would like to see you, privately.” His tone is serious and the look on his face is one I had only seen once, which was after his ex-wife tried to rob him.

I nod and follow him, smiling gently at guests who look my way until I am out of sight and behind a closed door with him.

“Why are you doing this to me, darling?” His voice is tight with emotions that he seems to be holding back.

I sigh calmly, “I'm simply tired of being your little secret. It's degrading and I can't stand it anymore,” I reply, looking away from him and feigning sadness.

“Then give me some time to make it right, give me some time to make you mine in front of the whole world Dalia,” there's a small break in his voice.

Aww.

I scoff, “It doesn't feel as good now you know. If you wanted to, you would.”

“Please, don't go. I'll do anything,” he almost whispers, falling to his knees as tear drops stain his cheeks.

“Is this supposed to be a grand gesture?” I ask dryly, rolling my eyes.

I can see the expression on his face go from pleading to hurt, and then confusion.

“Excuse me?” He asks with furrowed brows I think I hit his pride.

“I can go on my knees too you know,” I say in the same tone.

This time, he gets up from the floor and points a finger at me, anger radiating in his eyes.

“I think you're starting to forget your place, you are nothing! You are nothing but a whore who gained favor from me!” he says.

“Really? Is that all I was to you?” I ask with a low and emotional tone, I let tears cloud my eyes. Men think that women are always emotionally unstable so I've learned to use that to my advantage.

His anger falters and he starts to stutter, “No-n- no of course not. I was just - why did you say all that?”

“Because I wanted you to fight for me, and prove to me that I am worth more, but I guess you've shown your true intentions,” I let the tears roll down my eyes.

“No,” he walks towards me and cups my face in his large palms. “ I was just upset, I was out of my mind - I'm so sorry I made you feel like that.”

He lowers his lips to mine and I let him, allowing him to savor the tenderness of my lips since it'll be the last time. His hand leaves my face and skims down my body, wrapping around my waist and pulling me closer. I let my right leg leave the floor and wrap around his waist.

He takes the sign and lifts me off my feet, placing me on the nearest desk.

I hurriedly unbutton his shirt and toss it aside, fisting my hands in his hair as I let him kiss down my neck to between my breasts. As soon as I feel his fingers at the zip of my dress, I push him away, giving him a stern look.

His face mirrors confusion.

“Correction,” I start breathlessly. “I never needed favors from you.” I regain my composure, watching his disheveled expression. “And what makes me a whore? The money?” I laugh without humor, looking him straight in the eye and climbing down from the desk.

“Okay then,” I nod, grabbing my purse and taking out some bundles of cash.

“Here's your pay, I mean you pleasured me too, so you should get paid right?” I hold the money up to his face, urging him to take it and tipping him over the edge even more.

He doesn't move a limb, just stares at me in utter shock, so I throw the money at his face, shattering the last ounce of pride he might be holding on to.

“I guess if there's anyone who is to be shamed as a whore, it's you. I mean, I'm giving you money, and I'm tossing you aside” I shrug and give him the most innocent smile possible.

“What is this?” He asks.

“Just a demonstration that I call the shots on whether this ends or not.”

He doesn't move, almost like his shame is keeping him immobile.

“Let's hope we never see each other again,” I click my tongue and walk out.

Back in the hall with the soft classical music, I draw in a deep breath, fix my hair, and put on my best smile. That took a dramatic turn but at least it's over, Dante probably hates me enough to never speak to me again.

Cheers to creating a bigger hate fan base.

My phone chimes in my bag and I reach for it, suddenly reminded that I have no idea where Karen is. But the message isn't from her, it is from my father. An email that simply says- YOU'RE GETTING MARRIED, AWAIT FURTHER INSTRUCTIONS FOR PREPARATIONS.

Shock comes in first, then anger follows. I stare down at the text with furrowed brows, digesting every word.

Married? I know my dad to be a self-centered idiotic bastard but getting me married without my permission is a new level of low for him.

I would send a text back, but I've lived as my dad's puppet for long enough to know that I wouldn't be getting a reply. If I want answers, I have to ask him myself.

With blood boiling, I shove my phone back into my purse and take a step forward, only to trip on a set of long firm legs.

My eyes go wide as my body loses control and I prepare to get slammed onto the hard floor and face the embarrassment of a lifetime.

But I feel strong arms wrap around my torso, suspending me from falling to my demise, the smell of freshly picked flowers and chopped wood invades my nostrils and in a split second, I'm facing Adam's apple.

I gulp and take a moment before looking up at the person who had saved me.

Tristen King.

There is something about his aura, so - powerful, it could make a weak man bend a knee, and even the strong would struggle to stay upright - like I'm struggling right now.

“Are you okay?” He asks, but there's barely a hint of concern in his voice.

“Yeah, thank you. I wasn't paying attention,” I reply in the same manner.

Something else I picked up having to grow up with a father like mine. Mirroring.

“Stay attentive next time young lady,” he nods politely.

“You too,” I reply.

He walks past me, towards the exit. I know I wasn't one of the early birds but isn't it a bit too early to be leaving the party?

Oh, what the heck. I should just find Karen and go. I need to speak to my father.

_

My flight arrives in Boston in the early hours of the morning. I had already secured a car that would take me to my father's hotel. It's been at least 13 years since my father and I lived in the same place at the same time, and about 5 years since we last saw each other. My relationship with my father is like that of a business partner, a very distant investor. He sends out instructions and I carry them out, but this is too much of an order, this is my entire life.

The car arrives and I get in, unable to focus on the road and the beauty of the city due to all the thoughts going on in my head on how I would face my father. I barely even take notice of how long the drive is from the airport or our arrival until the driver calls for me.

“We're here Miss Dalia,” he says in a thick Australian accent.

“Oh. Thank you.” I reply, trying to gather my things while he steps out of his car and holds the door open for me.

I hold my mini travel bag in one hand and my Louis Vuitton handbag in the other, facing the hotel with my heart pounding in my chest.

No matter how much I grow up, I don't think I'd ever be able to kill the anxiety that comes with being in the same place as my father.

He's a dangerous man, and that's a lot coming from his daughter.

I draw in one long breath and walk into the hotel, a pretty receptionist is sitting in front of the computer screen with her glasses resting on her nose.

“Hello Good morning, uhmm, I'm here to see Mr Hale. He's the owner of this place, let him know that his daughter is here to see him,” I say with a warm smile.

She looks up from the screen and studies me for a few seconds.

“Mr Hale is not in at the moment, and you don't have to lie about being his daughter.” She replies.

Uhmm, what?

I don't bother to argue or ask any further questions, “Okay, I would like to get a room then, it was a long flight here,” I say instead.

There's no need to make a fuss about what she said, it's not like I'm proud to be his daughter anyway.

She nods and begins tapping on the keyboard.

“Name?” She asks.

“Dalia Hale,” I reply.

She pauses and looks up at me from the top of her glasses. I don't respond, giving her a dead stare until she continues tapping at the keyboard.

“Credit card,” she opens her palm and I pull my credit card out of my pocket and hand it to her.

She looks at it and confirms the name before inputting the needed information and handing it back to me.

“Your room is on the second floor to the left,” she says, handing me my keycard.

“Thank you,” I collect it from her and reach for my credit card too. “Please be sure to tell Mr Hale that I'm here when he gets back. It's important,” I smile mockingly and grab my stuff, heading to the elevator.

I don't know what my dad has been up to, but he's been up to something to make his receptionist think that I'm lying about being his daughter. But then again, we've never seen each other and I doubt my dad goes around talking about what an amazing daughter I am.

I get to my room and keep my bags by the closet before throwing myself on the soft bed. Fatigue engulfs my entire body and I'm reminded of how tired I am.

This is the first time I'd be seeing my dad in 5 years. A part of me is dreading it, but I can still feel a little part of me that can't wait.

It feels like a few minutes since I closed my eyes but when I hear the loud banging on the door and try to get up to speed, the instability of my body suggests otherwise.

“Who is it?” I ask in anger at the loudness of the knock.

I reach the door and open it without waiting for a response and standing in front of me is my father. He's aged a bit more since the last time I saw him but that did nothing to his ever-green eyes. That is the only feature I wish I got from him.

“Fath-” I start to say but his hand flying across my face cuts me shut.

“How dare you show up here without my permission?” He asks in his ever condescending tone.

I bring my hand up to rest on the cheek he'd slapped, feeling the throbbing from the impact.

“Not the welcome I was hoping for, but what did I expect?” I sigh.

He takes a step into the room and shuts the door.

“I told you to await further instructions. Why are you here?” He asks.

I swallow a non-existent lump in my throat, reaching for courage.

“Because I'm not doing it,” I reply.

“Is that a joke? You better give it another thought young lady.”

That was an unsaid threat. I know it.

“I have been a good puppet to you all my life and I have carried out your instructions without question. But this is too big of a deal to carry out. Marriage to a random stranger is too far!” I say, feeling tears well up in my eyes. I can feel the little girl in me who just wants her father to give a shit about her showing her pathetic face, but I am unable to push her back in.

“This isn't just a couple of months dad, this is the rest of my life!” I raise my voice, letting the tears fall freely.

He doesn't move a muscle, he just stares at me, stiff and completely void of any emotions.

“You're still pathetic. I thought you were getting better,” he spits out with disgust.

“And I don't remember ever telling you that there were options for you to pick from,” he says, folding his arms and resting on the door frame.

“I'm not going to do it. This time I say no!” I reply, finally finding some much-needed courage.

“Okay then,” he shrugs. “I can always bring in Kisha. She's already 20 years old, not a child anymore -”

“We had a deal! You said you would leave her alone-” I say in disbelief, my sadness fading away and giving room for anger.

“If you cooperate!” He yells, pointing a finger at me and approaching me dangerously. “I said I would let her be if you cooperate, and right now you're not cooperating, Dalia. So if you would like me to kick you off the chess board then fine, there's a reason why there are two knights. It's either you or Kisha.” He says with finality, leaving the choice up to me but also knowing the only choice I'd go with.

“Fine. I'll do,” I sniffle and wipe my cheeks, shutting out that stupid little girl.

“Good girl.” He coos and pats my head like a dog.

“You're going to be getting married in 3 weeks. Your job is to stay married to him for a year and take his company. Find a way to do this- and you're free” he says.

My eyes snap up in utter surprise.

Free.

“What?” I ask.

“You heard me, if you pull this off, then you can go ahead and do whatever the fuck you want,” he says again.

Freedom? I never thought I'd hear these words from him in my life. I'd always felt like my only chance at freedom would be his death. And yes, I have thought about killing him a couple of times, but it's hard to kill the only person who made you everything you are.

I straighten up, paying more attention now, a new excitement building within me.

“What do I need to do? And who is the target?” I ask, more professionally now.

“The target is a man you must have heard of, Tristen King.” He says.

For some reason, my heart falls to the pit of my stomach and bounces right back up, but I do my best not to show anything.

“He's a business legend and a highly accomplished young man. Your job is to seduce him until he falls for you and lets you have everything, but a man like Tristen is a hard nut to crack, so if you can't make him fall in love with you, find a way to steal it.” He says, walking to the bed and making himself comfortable. I turn around as well, so I can keep my eyes on him.

Why does it have to be Tristen King?

I nod, taking mental notes of everything he'd said.

*You're going to be meeting him at the rooftop hotel in two days, I've already done a startup for you. All you have to do is show up and work your magic” he finishes.

“In two days? That means -” I start in realization.

“Yes that means you're not supposed to be here,” he points out.

“Thankfully you haven't unpacked, grab your bags and come outside, I have a plane waiting to get you back right now.”

I nod without a word.

He gets up from the bed and walks past me, this time I don't turn around until he says my name.

“Dalia,” he starts softly.

“Yes, father?” I reply without changing my position.

“If you ever show up uninvited again, I'll kill you.”

I don't reply, I don't know how to.

I listen to the door slam and then his retreating footsteps. Fuck.