Bodyguards escorted Tiffany toward the private helicopter her father had sent for her. Just earlier, she'd been told about a special meeting with the Alphas in Ormon City.
"Did my father give you any specific instructions about this abrupt trip?" she asked.
"No, Miss," replied one of the guards. "He only said your presence is highly requested at the meeting."
Tiffany quietly climbed into the helicopter and settled in her seat. They would travel from Liban to a private estate in Ormon City, where her father was meeting the city mayor. Ormon was miles away, but with her father's private chopper, it would only be a three-hour ride. She'd heard her father and the mayor were planning a new business venture, though she was sure it involved shady dealings.
The clock read past six, and the evening air felt icy against her skin. Despite her thick coat, the cold still managed to seep in, stirring the emptiness she'd felt since she was a child. Biting her lip, she focused on the task ahead. Someday, the bad memories won't be able to catch up with her anymore. She just had to be patient…
Just then, a bodyguard placed a headset on her, and after a series of radio announcements, they lifted off into the night.
Three hours later, the bodyguards helped Tiffany step out onto a wide lawn. According to the men, the estate belonged to the mayor himself. Just steps away stood a grand building, its glamorous façade were adorned with glittering lights. A classical music was heard as the noise from the helicopter faded.
Upon reaching the building, two women in black-and-white suits approached her. "This way, Miss," they said in unison. Tiffany followed, walking with steady steps as her guards trailed behind. They entered an elevator that led to a lavish hallway, where portraits of sensual, intricately styled women adorned the walls. She couldn't help but stop for a minute just to admire the artistry.
Eventually, they reached a private room where her guards waited outside, and another assistant ushered her in. The women who'd escorted her bowed and left.
"Good evening, Miss," greeted a woman inside. "I'm Mylene, your hair and makeup stylist for tonight. The Don sent me to assist you."
"Am I supposed to wear that?" Tiffany asked, pointing to a dress displayed nearby.
"Yes, Miss."
Tiffany ran her fingers over the soft fabric, letting out a quiet sigh. "Lovely."
But that was an understatement. The black evening gown was breathtakingly elegant—a floor-length, made of silk, with a fitted bodice embellished with intricate beading. She admired the sweetheart neckline, delicate off-shoulder sleeves, and the high slit along the side, obviously designed to emphasize her figure.
"I didn't realize this was a party."
"It's a masquerade ball, Miss," Mylene replied. "Your father is waiting for you. You'll be his muse tonight."
"Fine," Tiffany muttered. Without another word, she changed into the gown.
Her father had a habit of using her as his "muse" at these social events, given he lacked a trophy wife to parade around. She didn't enjoy these surprise appearances, especially with the shallow company her father preferred.
But tonight was different—it was her first Alpha meeting. Hence, no matter how last-minute, she wouldn't complain. Instead, she urged Mylene to perfect her look; she wanted to impress the Alphas.
But deep inside, she couldn't help but wonder what this was all about. It's probably just a cover-up to keep the meeting under wraps, she reasoned, reassuring herself that everything would be fine.
Just then, her phone rang, interrupting her thoughts. Her assistant quickly handed it to her.
"Hola?" she answered without checking the caller ID.
"Has visto el vestido, Tiffany?" ("Have you seen the dress?")
Hearing that voice instantly lifted her spirits. It was her favorite person in the world. "Mamita Dionee!" she squealed. "Yes, I'm wearing it right now!"
"Oh, I hope you like it, dear. Your impulsive father demanded it finished immediately, with hardly any notice. Can you imagine how annoyed I was? Tenía muchas ganas de que fuera perfecto!" ("I wanted it to be perfect!")
Admiring the intricate details, she realized how the gown's beading and cut highlighted her transformation from a girl into the powerful woman she had become.
"It's absolutely perfect, Mamita Dionee. No te preocupes. (Don't worry.) I love it. Truly, eres el mejor estilista de moda de España." ("You're the best stylist in Spain.")
"Te quiero, cariño." ("I love you, darling.") Dionee replied. "And gracias for saying I'm Spain's best stylist—that's certainly true," he chuckled with his endearing laugh.
Tiffany grinned. "Indeed, Mamita. I love you too. I hope you can visit me here in the Philippines soon."
"Positivamente, definitivamente, sí, sí, sí!" ("Absolutely, definitely, yes, yes, yes!") he replied jovially. "You never know!"
***
As expected, everyone's eyes were on her when she entered the hall. Only her chin and red lips were visible beneath her mask, yet she was easily the most captivating figure in the room. She moved toward her father, who was already beaming with pride.
The Don introduced her around, and several influential men showed interest in the Don's Alpha daughter. Tiffany restrained herself from snapping at her father for throwing her into this crowd without warning.
"I didn't know there'd be a party," she whispered as they finally took their seats after the dreadful introductions.
"You know why," he replied gruffly. "It's part of your training."
She rolled her eyes at his stubborn ways and his insistence on control.
Watching his mustache stain with red wine, she took a sip of her champagne, inwardly sulking. "You always do this to me," she muttered just loud enough for him to hear.
"Then you should always be prepared, my dear," he said with a wink.
Tiffany knew he'd never apologize for dismissing her feelings. Pushing the matter was pointless, so she decided to appear interested in those around her. A short while later, the city mayor entered the room, and Tiffany found herself face-to-face with a rotund man in a striking violet tuxedo. She adjusted her smile as he approached.
"Compadre!" her father greeted the mayor. They exchanged warm compliments and some friendly banter before her father finally introduced her.
"Compadre, meet my beautiful daughter, Tiffany."
The mayor eyed her intently, and though it made her uncomfortable, she kept her composure, wishing the night would end soon.
"It's a pleasure to finally meet the heiress," he said, kissing her hand.
"The pleasure's mine, Mayor," she replied politely.
"She still has to prove herself worthy, Compadre," her father interjected. "But she's one of the top students at the Academy. Even my toughest goons can't beat her in training." The praise made Tiffany smile a bit, despite herself.
"Ah, Compadre… young lady," the mayor said. "I'd also like you to meet my son, Yuan Lloyd Marquez."
Only now did Tiffany notice the striking young man standing behind the mayor, dressed in a pristine white suit with a subtle mask adorned with diamonds and a red rose on his collar.
"I've heard quite a bit about you, young man," the Don said warmly. The two men shook hands. But when Tiffany's gaze met his, she froze, her eyes widening in surprise. She recognized him, even through the mask.
"I-It's you…"
Yuan took her hand and brought it to his lips, ignoring her shock. Then, with a playful wink, he left Tiffany utterly speechless.
"Hello, Miss Blonde."