The Gala

The midnight blue silk dress felt like water against Ella's skin. Beautiful, yet humiliating. The back dipped low, nearly to her spine. Cutouts at her sides revealed skin with each step. The neckline emphasized her lack of undergarments – Adrian's strict requirement.

Martha had spent hours on Ella's preparation. Hair swept up to expose her neck. Subtle makeup. Strappy heels that forced smaller steps. A sapphire pendant at her throat – "not a gift," Martha had clarified, "just a loan."

The limousine approached the hotel. After two months of isolation, the thought of a crowd made Ella's anxiety spike.

"Remember your training," Adrian said. He looked perfect in his tuxedo.

The "training" had been simple: stand slightly behind him, answer briefly, anticipate his needs, accept his touches without flinching.

"Yes, sir," she replied quietly.

Adrian's hand moved to her bare knee, sliding upward. "Victoria will be there."

Ella stiffened at the mention of his fiancée. Their office encounter had added new complexity to her situation.

"She'll be playing her role, as will you," Adrian said. "Any conflict would be inappropriate."

The limousine joined the line of vehicles at the hotel entrance. Through tinted windows, Ella saw camera flashes capturing the city's elite.

Adrian withdrew his hand and reached into his jacket pocket. He pulled out a bracelet matching her pendant. "Your wrist."

She extended her arm, watching him fasten it around her. To others, it might look like a lover's gift. She knew better – it was another mark of ownership.

"For tonight, you are my companion," Adrian said. "Not my assistant or other arrangements. My date. The distinction matters here."

The limousine stopped. Attendants opened doors. A red carpet led to the hotel.

Adrian exited and circled around, extending his hand with practiced gallantry. Ella placed her hand in his, letting him help her out. Cameras flashed more intensely – Adrian West rarely had dates, especially unknown women.

His hand moved to her lower back, guiding her forward. She maintained the serene smile Martha had made her practice for hours.

The hotel lobby gleamed with crystal chandeliers. Waiters glided between guests with champagne. An orchestra played softly.

"Adrian! There you are." A tall woman in her fifties approached, diamonds at her throat. "We thought you might not come."

"Margaret," Adrian greeted her with a cheek kiss. "I wouldn't miss your foundation's event."

Margaret's eyes assessed Ella. "And who is your lovely companion?"

"This is Ella Morrison," Adrian replied, hand still at Ella's back. "Ella, Margaret Robertson, our hostess."

"A pleasure, Mrs. Robertson," Ella said, exactly as instructed.

"Morrison," Margaret repeated. "I don't believe I know your family."

"Ella is new to our circle," Adrian cut in. "She's been... working closely with me recently."

His emphasis made Margaret's eyebrows rise. "I see. How... progressive of you, Adrian, to bring your... employee as your date."

The implication was clear. Margaret turned back to Ella with a cold smile. "Enjoy the evening, dear. The champagne is excellent."

As she left, Adrian's fingers pressed harder against Ella's back. "You did well. Let's circulate."

The next hour passed in uncomfortable introductions. Adrian never directly explained her role, but his careful words painted a clear picture – somewhere between mistress and escort.

"Champagne?" Adrian asked, signaling a waiter.

"No, thank you," Ella replied.

"She'll have one," Adrian countered, taking two glasses and handing her one. "Drink. You look too tense."

Ella took a small sip. Adrian guided her toward a group near a pillar. Victoria stood among them in a striking crimson gown.

"Adrian, darling," Victoria greeted him with a cheek kiss, glancing briefly at Ella. "You remember Jackson Howard?"

The man beside Victoria turned. He was genuinely handsome – tall with warm brown eyes and an easy smile.

"Jackson," Adrian nodded, his posture relaxing slightly. "Been busy?"

"Too busy," Jackson agreed warmly. His eyes moved to Ella with interest. "And who's this?"

"Ella Morrison," Adrian replied, hand sliding to her waist. "My... companion for the evening."

Jackson's smile remained, but something flickered in his eyes – a brief concern. "Pleasure to meet you, Ms. Morrison."

"Likewise, Mr. Howard," Ella replied quietly.

"Jackson is my oldest friend," Adrian explained. "We grew up together on neighboring estates."

"Now I run my family's foundation," Jackson added. "Less exciting than Adrian's corporate empire, but fulfilling."

Victoria laughed sharply. "Jackson is being modest. His foundation is transforming education in poor communities. He's being honored tonight."

"Congratulations," Ella said, genuinely impressed.

Jackson smiled, his eyes warm. "Thank you. It's a team effort."

"Speaking of teams," Victoria cut in, "Adrian tells me you've been providing him with very... specialized assistance these past months, Ella."

Ella froze, unsure how to respond.

"Victoria," Jackson said, a warning in his voice.

"What?" Victoria replied innocently. "I'm merely acknowledging Ella's... position. Everyone here knows what kind of 'assistance' she provides."

Heat rushed to Ella's face. Nearby guests pretended not to listen.

"Victoria," Jackson said more firmly.

Adrian merely smiled, arm tightening around Ella. "Ella has many talents. Her value extends beyond conventional assistant duties."

The implication was clear. Several women exchanged knowing glances. An older man smirked.

"I'm sure her... services command a high rate," Victoria continued. "Though for someone as wealthy as Adrian, the expense hardly matters."

Ella felt sick. They were discussing her like a prostitute, and Adrian was encouraging it.

"If you'll excuse me," she attempted to step away.

Adrian's fingers tightened, keeping her at his side. "Ella is being modest. Her compensation package is quite substantial. Worth every penny."

The group laughed. Despite her elegant dress, Ella had never felt more exposed.

"Adrian." Jackson's voice had hardened. "A word?"

The tension between them was sudden but not hostile. Adrian nodded. "Of course." He turned to Ella. "Stay with Victoria. I'll return shortly."

Before she could protest, he followed Jackson to a quieter corner, leaving her with Victoria.

Victoria sipped her champagne, eyes cold. "Don't look so upset. Everyone understands. Most of these men have had similar... companions."

"I'm not what you think," Ella said quietly.

Victoria laughed. "Of course you are. The only difference between you and professionals is your exclusivity to Adrian. For now." She smirked. "Though two months is actually a record for him."

Across the room, Jackson spoke intently to Adrian. Adrian's face remained calm, but his posture showed tension.

"They've been best friends forever," Victoria commented. "Though Jackson can be tediously moral sometimes."

Ella noticed Adrian taking a drink from a passing waiter. Then another. It was unusual – she'd never seen him have more than one glass at dinner.

Victoria followed her gaze. "Interesting. He usually doesn't drink at these events."

Before Ella could respond, Adrian returned, his expression dark. Jackson followed, looking concerned.

"We're leaving," Adrian announced, taking Ella's arm firmly.

"So soon?" Victoria asked with mock disappointment.

"Goodnight, Victoria," Adrian replied coldly. He nodded to Jackson. "Jackson."

Jackson's eyes moved to Ella, genuine concern in them. "Ms. Morrison, it was a pleasure."

His kindness – the first real respect she'd received in months – made Ella's throat tighten. "Likewise," she managed before Adrian pulled her away.

The limousine arrived, and once inside, Adrian immediately reached for the bar, pouring scotch and drinking it quickly.

"Sir?" the driver asked through the intercom. "Back to the penthouse?"

Adrian stared out the window. "No," he said finally, his voice strange. "Take us to the West estate."

"The estate?" the driver sounded surprised. "Yes, sir."

Ella watched as Adrian poured another drink. In two months, she'd never seen him like this. The city lights faded as they drove into exclusive suburbs.

Finally, they turned down a long drive toward an iron gate that opened automatically. Beyond it stood an imposing mansion of stone and glass, lit by landscape lighting.

As they circled the fountain and stopped at the entrance, a strange feeling washed over Ella. This place seemed familiar. The columns, the stone path, the windows – she knew them somehow.

"Sir?" the driver asked. "Will you be staying the night?"

Adrian blinked, unfocused. "Yes," he decided. "Return in the morning." He turned to Ella. "Come."

As they climbed the steps, Ella's sense of familiarity grew stronger. She had been here before, she was certain.

The doors opened to reveal an elderly butler, who looked surprised. "Mr. West. We weren't expecting you."

"Evidently," Adrian replied, swaying slightly. "Prepare my suite, Edward. And a guest room for Ms. Morrison."

"Of course, sir," Edward replied, his eyes moving curiously to Ella's face. Something like recognition flashed in his expression.

Ella stood frozen in the marble foyer, eyes drawn to the sweeping staircase. At the top, she somehow knew, was a hallway with blue wallpaper.

"Have you been here before?" Adrian asked, noticing her expression.

Ella shook her head. "No, I don't think so," she whispered, uncertain.

Adrian studied her face. The alcohol had softened him, made him less guarded. "You look like her," he said suddenly.

"Like who?"

Instead of answering, Adrian turned toward what Ella somehow knew was the library. She followed, each step bringing fresh waves of familiarity.

The library was exactly as she'd somehow expected – walls of books, a massive fireplace, leather chairs. A portrait hung above the mantel – a beautiful woman with golden hair. Elizabeth West, Adrian's mother.

Adrian poured another drink, his movements unsteady. "Why did you bring me here?" Ella asked quietly.

Adrian stared into his glass without answering. His eyes drifted up to his mother's portrait, a complex emotion crossing his face that Ella couldn't quite name – regret, perhaps, or shame.

The silence stretched between them, heavy with unspoken thoughts. Ella remained still, sensing that any movement might break this rare moment where his guard had slipped.

Adrian's gaze shifted to Ella, studying her features with an intensity that made her uncomfortable. For a moment, something like confusion crossed his face, as if he were seeing her clearly for the first time. His eyes moved from Ella to the portrait and back again, his brow furrowing slightly.

Jackson's words from earlier seemed to echo in the silence. The alcohol had loosened something in Adrian – not just his physical control, but the careful walls he maintained around his thoughts. He took another sip, wincing slightly as the liquor burned down his throat.

"Do you know why you're here?" he finally asked, his voice rougher than usual.

Ella shook her head. "No."

Adrian's eyes lingered on her face, a strange recognition dawning in them. "You look like her," he said simply, before turning back to the portrait. The rest remained unspoken, but Ella understood he wasn't referring to his mother.

The door opened before Ella could respond. "Your rooms are prepared, sir," Edward announced. "Shall I show Ms. Morrison to her accommodations?"

Adrian blinked, the moment of vulnerability vanishing. "Yes. That will be all."

As Edward led her from the library, Ella glanced back to see Adrian still staring at his mother's portrait, his expression a mix of grief and anger. For the first time, she saw him not as a monster, but as a damaged man still haunted by his past.

Edward guided her up the stairs and down a corridor with blue wallpaper, exactly as she had somehow known. With each step, her déjà vu grew stronger.

"Here we are, miss," Edward said, opening a door to a guest suite. "If you need anything, please ask."

"Thank you," Ella replied, still trying to understand the strange familiarity.

As she entered, Edward cleared his throat. "If I may say so, miss," he said carefully, "you've grown into a lovely young woman."

Ella turned sharply. "What?"

The butler's face remained neutral, but his eyes suggested he knew more than he was saying. "Nothing, miss. A mistake. Good evening."

Before she could question him, he closed the door, leaving her alone with her confusion and the certainty that the West mansion held answers to questions she hadn't even known to ask.