BILLIONAIRE’S FAKE GIRL

Isabella’s Pov

The large ballroom was filled with expensive designer gowns and well-tailored suits. I looked around, nervous as I knew that I did not belong here.

I clutch my dress as I move through the crowd, the girl's glares were like a dagger and their words were as sharp as a sword.

“What is she doing here?”

“Who is she…”

“She looks…..simple..”

“She looks poor.”

I sighed and ignored them, blocking out the bitter and wagging tongue. I straightened my back with pride as I gripped the glass that held my champagne tight as I walked through the room, trying to blend in.

My eyes ran through the room, looking for a savior who would save me from the impending doom that lurked around the corner.

My art gallery was on its last thread. The legacy left behind by my father was just days away from being closed up, with an eviction notice and unsettled debts.

This gala was my only chance to find some rich and caring enough to help or invest in my dream.

That's when I spotted him— Graham Forster, a famous art collector and a lover of anything art.

“Isabella,” I whispered to myself. This was my ticket to make it out of debt. I took deep breaths in as I walked confidently toward him and I tried to push my desperation out the window.

I was a few steps away from my savior and the worst happened. My heel got stuck at the hem of my dress making me stumble forward. My glass tilted causing the content to spill as I collided with a huge person.

“Watch where you are…..” the person said, his voice cold as he watched the drink drip down on his suit—an expensive Dolce and Gaban suit.

My eyes darted up to see a man who could pass as a Greek god. His dark eyes told me he wasn't used to this kind of embracement.

“Oh my goodness! I'm sorry……” I stammered, setting the glass down on the tray of a passing waiter.

“I'm so sorry….let me..” I tried touching him.

“Stop….” he said and I froze, he brought out a handkerchief as he began to clean up the mess, “You have done enough, miss.”

I felt embarrassed as my head dipped down to avoid his gaze, “I'm sorry. I didn't mean for any of this to happen, sir.”

“I'm aware.” I could feel his gaze on me, his eyes studying me and I could tell he was wondering what I was doing here.

I tried to deflect his stares as I opened my mouth to contain my apology but his next question had me weak in the knees.

“You are not part of the guest list, are you?”

My heart dropped to my stomach as I scrambled for words to fit my situation, “I…I…I”

His eyebrows arched as he waited for my explanation but nothing seemed to come forth to my mouth but the truth.

My head dipped further, “No…” I sighed as I admitted what could get me kicked out, “I'm not part of the guest.”

The handsome man straightened, “I thought so.” he said as he folded his handkerchief back into his pocket, “so…..what are you doing here?”

I looked up as I glanced around and then back to him. I didn't know what to say. Should I be honest? Would that make my situation worse than it was? But his piercing gaze made me shudder as it made lying feel impossible.

“Hmmm….I’m here to find a…” I cleared my throat, “An investor or a donor? You see, my father’s art gallery is.….”

“Dying.” he finished my statement, taking me aback, as his lips curled up into a smile.

My shoulders dropped, “Yes. I sighed, “I came here looking for someone who loves art and would be willing to donate or invest in it and keep my gallery from closing down.”

“Let me take a wild guess,” he leaned in closer, “You thought that if you attend a gala filled with people who have more money than sympathy and common sense, you could save your gallery?”

My eyes widened at his blunt assessment of the situation but the truth is that he was not wrong in any way.

“Look, I'm sorry about the drink I spilled on your body and I was not planning to do that or ruin your night but I had to do something. I am not just trying to save a business—it was all my dad left me and I wanted to keep it open.”

I looked up at him and his gaze had something in them—pity? But before I could make out what it was, it was gone in a blink of an eye.

As he was about to respond, a woman's voice interrupted

“Noah, darling. There you are.”

I turned to see a woman who could pass as the angel of beauty. She was tall, her hair well laid, jewelry dancing in the light and her gown hugged her body pronouncing her curves. She walked towards us and I could feel the confidence from every step but there was something else—possessiveness.

“Hennessy.” the man who I had come to know as Noah spoke out.

“Oh, I was wondering where you disappeared to,” she said as she slipped her hands into his. Her gaze moved to me, it was sharp and dismissive, “and who may this be?”

“Nobody…” his tone was as cold as hers, but he paused for a while, as his expression changed, “She is my date.”

I blinked hard and long, trying to make sure I heard correctly, “What?”

The lady’s eyebrow shot up, “Your date?”

Noah turned his gaze to me with a smirk, “Yes….she is my date.”

“I—” my voice fluttered as I looked at Noah, his eyes warning me not to blow this all up.

Hennessey eyes flickered from Noah to me, “I see….I would leave you two to whatever this is.” she gave a smile which I could tell was fake.

She walked away and my heart calmed down.

Hennessey’s heels clicked sharply against the marble floor as she walked away, her figure disappearing into the glittering crowd. I let out a breath I didn’t realize I was holding, my heart still pounding in my chest. Noah’s hand, which had somehow found its way to the small of my back, lingered for a moment longer before he pulled away.

“Thank you,” I whispered, my voice trembling. “I don’t know why you did that, but… thank you.”

Noah’s dark eyes bore into mine, his expression unreadable. “Don’t thank me yet,” he said, his voice low and steady. “You owe me an explanation, and I don’t have the patience for games.”

I swallowed hard, my mind racing. What could I possibly say to this man who had just saved me from utter humiliation? Before I could form a coherent sentence, he leaned in closer, his breath warm against my ear.

“You’re lucky I’m in a generous mood tonight,” he murmured. “But don’t think for a second that this makes us even. You’re going to tell me everything—why you’re really here, and what you’re hiding.”