Kisses with Misplaced Couples.
When Eva stepped into the party, it was as though the air itself shifted. Conversations faltered, music seemed to hush for a fraction of a second, and a hundred pairs of eyes turned toward her.
Whitney, the makeup artist extraordinaire, was mid-laugh with a small circle of friends when his jaw dropped.
"Oh... my... God." His voice carried just enough for the nearby crowd to turn. "That's Elie Saab Haute Couture. That gown alone is worth more than most people's yearly salary. And those heels, are those Christian Louboutin 'Ballerina Ultima' stilettos? They were custom-made, only five pairs exist in the world!" His eyes widened further. "Wait, wait, wait, is that the Aurelia Diamond Choker? The one auctioned in Denmark two days ago for twenty million dollars?!"
Before anyone could answer, Whitney shoved his drink into a bewildered woman's hands. "I have to meet her. I cannot keep calm."
He glided through the crowd with the urgency of a man chasing a shooting star. When he reached her, he tapped her shoulder, and froze when she turned.
"...Eva?" he breathed, blinking like he'd just been told the moon was made of gold. "The boss's plus-one from the other day?!"
Her lips curved into a polite smile. "Oh, hi, Wilson... erh I mean Whitney."
"Hi, Eva, I swear, for a second I thought a high-profile celebrity had just graced us with her presence. Where did you get these get-ups? I am flabbergasted. This is a twelve out of ten. You look..." He placed a hand on his heart. "Absolutely. Breathtaking."
"Thank you," Eva replied softly, almost shy.
Whitney's eyes swept her again. "Everything on you screams dangerously expensive. Don't walk alone tonight, girl, you might get kidnapped." He winked.
Eva blinked, slightly baffled. She had simply picked things from her cloakroom without much thought.
Was it really that extravagant?
Just then, Cathy's voice rang out, bright and bubbling.
"My friend is finally here!" She pulled Eva into a hug. "But why so late? Oh wow, Eva, you're the prettiest woman here tonight!"
"You can say that again," Whitney said dramatically. "With you looking like this, someone might think you're the boss's new bride."
Eva frowned. "What?"
Gina leaned closer, eyes wide. "Don't tell me you didn't see the news yesterday?"
"What news?"
"The boss is married," Gina announced like it was a royal proclamation.
Eva's world tilted. "W-what did you say?"
"Lopez released the announcement yesterday, a marriage certificate and everything. He's officially off the market. No wonder he's been smiling lately. Honestly, I think this whole party is to reveal Mrs. Damian Lopez to us." Cathy's cheerful tone contrasted painfully with the way Eva's stomach twisted.
Eva's pulse roared in her ears. What exactly is happening? Did I just walk into a trap? Oh no! Damien can't be that foolish. What if he is? What can I do?
Whitney fanned himself dramatically. "Exactly why I came. I wasn't going to miss this reveal for anything in the world. And for the record, I think she's in our midst tonight. Because honestly, I feel strongly within me that it is someone from the office." He winked at Eva.
Gina snorted. "Our office? Please. No one there is classy enough for the boss. It must be some heiress. We'll see soon enough when she's announced."
Before Eva could process another word, the music shifted to something slow and rich. An announcement rang through the hall:
"Couples, please join us on the dance floor for the evening's waltz."
Eva was still frozen in thought when she suddenly felt a warm, steady hand slip around her waist. A voice, low, smooth, and far too close, breathed against her ear.
"May I have this dance?"
Before she could answer, she was swept effortlessly onto the dance floor. Her body tensed immediately.
Victor.
The ripple he caused was immediate. Heads turned.
"Oh my God... it's that guy again," someone whispered.
"Who is he?"
"That's Eva's boyfriend. You don't know? He came to pick her up from work once, you should have seen them. Gorgeous couple. And he's filthy rich."
"No wonder she can afford to dress like this," another voice murmured.
And as the rumors swirled like champagne bubbles, Victor held her close, steering her across the floor with dangerous ease, while Damian, somewhere in the crowd, watched.
Victor's grip was iron, his strong arm locking Eva against him, leaving her no space to breathe, let alone pull away. The music was slow, elegant, but his hold made it feel like a cage.
Her heart pounded wildly, half from fear, half from the sudden memory of Damian. That memory sent a cold shiver racing down her spine.
And then, she felt it, a chill from her back.
That chill was not from fear alone. It was him.
When she glanced toward the far end of the hall, her breath caught. Seated in a velvet high-back chair that might as well have been a throne, Damian Lopez watched her with eyes so sharp they could cut glass. The dim amber lights above him cast shadows over his jawline, making him look even more dangerous, more regal. His stare pierced straight through her, and Eva suddenly felt like Victor's touch burned.
Eva's pulse stumbled. Her instinct screamed to get away, to step back, but before she could even try, movement caught her eye.
Seraphina.
Like a swan gliding across a still lake, she approached Damian, the picture of grace and designer perfection. Without hesitation, she settled herself on his lap, looping an arm lazily around his shoulders, and pressed a delicate, deliberate kiss to his cheek.
Gasps erupted instantly.
"His wife, is Miss Seraphina Blake?" someone whispered loudly.
"They look perfect together!" another voice chimed.
"She's stunning, the boss is so lucky. What a power couple."
Eva's stomach tightened. She knew Seraphina's move was calculated, an open claim, a public staking of territory. It was all theater, and Seraphina was milking it for the applause. But if it diverted attention away from Eva, so be it. Eva was even thankful she did, so she gave a good riddance to their bad rubbish.
Victor, unfazed, continued to glide her across the dance floor with that smooth, predatory grace. His voice, low and cool, brushed her ear like a razor.
"Ana," he murmured, the name tasting like a threat. "Was this our agreement?"
She stiffened.
"I told you, resign. Come with me to Singapore. And this is your reply?. You sold your house. You hid your mother and your brother. Did you really think you could varnish from me?" His tone deepened, barely leashing his anger.
Eva's fingers trembled where they rested against him.
"So you're with him now hun?" Victor's gaze flicked toward Damian. "You think someone like that will save you? You think he cares about you? Do you even want to know what he would do to you when he finds out you are Ana? Wake up girlfriend,"
The music swelled as he spun her elegantly, but his words were a blade beneath the silk.
Then Victor's eyes found Damian's again, locking on like two predators circling the same prey. A silent, heated challenge pulsed in the air between them. And then, Victor pulled Eva closer. Closer still.
"Look," he whispered, tilting his head toward Damian and Seraphina. ""Can you see that, he's frolicking publicly with his girlfriend or perhaps his wife. Can you see them? Kissing? That's the kind of woman befitting a man like that. And they do look good together. I don't mean to hurt your feelings but it's the truth, someone of that caliber parades himself with woman like that, beautiful, untouchable classy, someone of high social standards. That's who gets the title of wife. You? You'd be nothing more than his mistress. A warm body in his bed, that's all, nothing more."
His voice softened suddenly, full of desperate longing.
"...but I can give you more Ana, I can cherish you, and make you my one and all, Ana can't you see how much I love you, can't you see what you are doing to me? Can't you see how far I can go for you? Huh, Ana be mine, please be mine" He suddenly said in a soft voice full of needs.
But before she could react, he crushed his lips to hers in a kiss, soft, lingering, intimate.
Gasps and murmurs exploded from every corner of the room. Fingers pointed.
Whispered speculation spread like wildfire.
And from his seat, Damian Lopez inhaled sharply, just enough for those who knew him to sense the crack in his composure. His eyes darkened, the dangerous kind of dark that promised storms.
Eric, who had been standing quietly on the sidelines, froze mid-breath. His eyes widened as the drama unfolded on the dance floor, Victor's brazen kiss, Damian's unflinching glare. But before he could even process it, something warm and sudden collided into him. latched onto him like an octopus, pulling him into an unexpected, forceful kiss that stole both his breath and his balance.
When Seraphina's lips finally left Damian's, Seraphina's perfectly painted smile greeted him.
"Is that your PA?" she asked slyly, her voice dripping with mock curiosity. Then, with a self-satisfied glimmer in her eyes, she added, "So, it's true she has a boyfriend." The words tasted like triumph on her tongue.
The truth was, Seraphina hadn't even planned on being here tonight. When she arrived at the building earlier, she had no idea there was a party, until Eric, in some careless moment, let it slip. That was all she needed. Within minutes she was dressed to kill, swearing she would not miss whatever Damian had planned, not for the world.
On the way over, she had seen the gossip headlines flashing across her phone: Damian Lopez marries in secret. She had scoffed outright.
"Married? Is that his pathetic little trick to get rid of me? How laughable," she muttered to herself, smirking at her reflection in the rearview mirror. "That spot belongs to me. Me and me alone."
But when she arrived and saw Damian sitting alone, looking every bit the untouchable king she remembered, her heart had leapt. She had sauntered toward him with her usual feline grace, already picturing how she'd reclaim the spotlight at his side. But then, snippets of hushed conversation reached her ears, rumors that Damian had planned this entire evening to announce his wife's identity.
Can Damian truly be married? She began to wonder, truth be told, she feared that creature a whole lot. Damian was bold, yes, but reckless enough to marry someone else? The thought was like ice water down her spine. She knew what he was capable of, how daring, how unshakably decisive he could be, and that knowledge only deepened her unease. Still, she clung stubbornly to the hope that it was all just ridiculous gossip.
Her pulse stuttered. No. That can't be possible.
Then came the comment that hit her like a strike to the chest.
Someone, smirking, had pointed directly at her and declared, "I'll bet my entire salary the boss's girlfriend, Miss Seraphina Blake, is also the boss's wife."
Something in her shifted. Wife. The word wrapped around her like a silk robe. If they were going to talk, then she would give them something to talk about.
With her chin lifted high, she closed the distance between them and slipped into his lap without hesitation. His eyes, cold, warning, met hers, but she ignored them entirely. Leaning forward, she brushed a deliberate peck against his cheek, claiming him in front of everyone.
"Damian," she purred softly, "this news about you getting married, tell me it's fake." Her smile was honey, her tone threaded with possessive certainty. "You and I, we're meant for each other. You know that."
Her voice dropped to a near-whisper, the words laced with a fragile vulnerability that was anything but accidental. "I have nowhere to go but to you. If you leave me, I'd rather die than face that reality alone."
Then, as if the confession were nothing but a casual truth, she smiled again, bright, confident, unshaken. "So no, I'm not threatened. In fact, I love you even more."
Her smile bloomed again, sugary and sure of itself. "And you look so handsome tonight. Come dance with me, please? Please, pretty please," she teased like a spoiled child, tugging playfully at his arm.
But then she saw his lips, perfect, tempting, and the urge was too strong to resist. She leaned in and kissed him.
Now, there were three kisses happening in the building, each between the wrong pair.
To the crowd, it looked intimate, mutual. But in reality, Damian's mind was far from her, every ounce of his attention locked on Eva and Victor across the dance floor. His jaw tightened, his eyes cold steel. He did not kiss her back.
When he finally registered what she was doing, his response was sharp and merciless, his teeth sank into her lower lip, hard enough to make her flinch, and then he shoved her away.
Seraphina's breath caught, pain radiating through her mouth. But she masked it instantly, forcing a light laugh as she rose gracefully to her feet, concealing the taste of blood behind her lips.
No one in the room seemed to notice what had happened, no one except her. The humiliation burned hot in her chest. Her eyes stung, but she would not cry.
She turned in search of a lifeline, and found Eric, only to feel the floor drop out beneath her.
Eric, her Eric, was locked in a kiss with another woman. A younger woman. Fresh-faced, delicate, breathtaking in her own understated way.
Seraphina's heart clenched. And for the first time that night, she felt something she hated more than humiliation.
She felt replaced.