ERIC'S POV

I watch The Grand Hall of my hotel getting crowded quickly.

Men and women crawl boastfully all over the place, resembling the ants' invasion. Most of them are finely dressed, being rich, influential, and famous. Some less fortunate are getting their jobs done here while earning their wages and observing all this glamour from a respectful distance. There are also people from the fashion business or media. With all their equipment and gadgets at the duty, they are covering this social gathering.

Nicolette Heels accompanies me, the leading fashion designer in my firm, my partner in crime, and sometimes, a blonde I fuck.

We take our seats in the first row of the audience, together with other VIP guests.

"Good evening, ladies and gentlemen! Let's give a big, loud round of applause to the man who started this event, hosting it in his hotel for the past six years, the owner of this gorgeous place, and Every Fashion Inc. We are also very grateful for his generous donation to our cause. Thank you from the bottom of our hearts! I give the floor to Mr. Eric Every!" A lady presenter in her early thirties announces my opening speech.

Everyone greets me with applause and praise that never seem to end.

As I take a stand to reach the stage, Nicky grins, brushing her lips against my cheek lightly, enjoying being under the spotlight. That's one of the perks she gets in return for helping me with my plans. But these plans have nothing in common with fashion whatsoever.

And with charitable events, they correlate even less.

"Ladies and gentlemen, thank you for attending this fashion show! The success of this event means a lot to me. I'm honored to be here tonight and lucky enough to be able to help, inviting you all to donate to this worthy cause, raising funds for this year's beneficiary, St Ann's Orphanage." As I start my speech, the clique explodes with blooming cheers, celebrating the importance and wealth I represent today.

Sometimes, though most treat me like this city's shiniest star, I still feel like a simple poor boy, not belonging here, among the affluent and powerful ones.

For a second, my gaze drops down on my clammy hands, and a memory flashes fast through my mind.

At the age of fourteen, I became an orphan myself. But there was my uncle Marco and his men to catch me in their net, more or less safe, something most of these kids I choose to help today never chance to encounter.

At least, about this charity, I have been honest. It means a lot, as giving something for nothing is a rare thing coming from me. I would say it's out of the goodness of my heart if I had one left. So, let's contribute it to my personal life experience.

I snap out of my drama, continuing with the talking performance.

"I thank all participants, presenting their creations, and all visitors attending. Without you, there wouldn't be any tickets sold or money raised. Welcome to the Every Grand Hotel and enjoy the show! And now, I pronounce this year's Every Fashion Night open!" While speaking, my eyes wander around, searching for the woman.

The one I desire and hate at the same time. The woman I want beside me as I destroy her. Her whole family and her in particular.

Whenever I encounter Giselle Armel, I can't take my eyes off her. The sweet brunette, with big, almond-shaped aqua blue eyes, dark auburn curly hair, and splendid figure of an hourglass, occupies my mind. She is so different from the women I usually take to my bed.

My money, my good looks, and my social status don't make her sway. It seems nothing does.

But that doesn't stop me from trying. I know better.

She turned me down many times in the last four years since she came back from France. We go way back, Giselle and me. But most of our history is irrelevant today. Only a tiny part of our past, yet the significant one fuels and feeds my bloodstream with revengeful thoughts for the last thirteen years.

I see her now, with her boyfriend, an heir to Merck Inc., one of my business partners, Justin Merck. The guy is a handsome blonde, but just like his father, he is a pussy.

Giselle looks splendid as always, wearing the heart-smashing red gown that reaches her knees in layers of silk chiffon, flowing under the smooth surface of silk satin fabric. Like she is a damn princess, right out from some fairytale. I imagine rolling it all up at her waist as I rip her panties out and bury myself balls deep into her sweet, tight, warm interior.

I'm so far from Prince Charming, being more like the monster from her worst nightmare.

A thousand tiny turquoise butterflies dance, printed over the skirt of her dress. The corset of her strapless gown doesn't protect the perfectly rounded breasts of even more perfect size. Not from my gaze.

I dream of untying those laces, crisscrossing her back. And then devouring with my mouth her pebbled nipples as I fuck her and listen to her moans. Her shoulders rest nicely wrapped in red and turquoise stole that I would happily use for tying her hands to my bedpost. Not my typical thing, but I wouldn't skip it with her.

Some silly turquoise butterfly hairpins sit on her hair, turquoise heels kissing her feet as she graciously walks.

Giselle is the leading designer in her family company, Armel Fashion Inc., and her creations are phenomenal, receiving standing ovations. Nicolette doesn't stand a chance against Giselle's designing talent. Or her beauty, grace, and intelligence.