The Billionaire's Weakness

Chapter 8 - The Fall Formal

Chapter 8 - The Fall Formal

Warning! This chapter might be triggering to some readers!! It depicts someone having a seizure.

Lucille's POV

I have the dress, I have the shoes and a cute little matching clutch. I've made my make-up simple, with my signature cat eyes look but a little more intense, paired with a deep red lipstick. Yeah a meek Cinderella look was never my style, and thanks to my two new bodyguards, I have been able to be more like myself, the Lucy I was back in Paris, without the fear of being bullied. The dress that is currently hugging my body like second skin is another reminder of my home in France. Camille was a dear and organise for an haute couture piece to be send from my favourite designer.

Of course the fashion sensation has no idea his creation will only be displayed among teenagers at a school ball, albeit filthy rich teenagers who probably have their own connections with designers that will eagerly send them couture pieces. I might have asked Camille to embellish the truth a little... OK, I asked her to flat out lie and say I'm walking the red carpet as I'm attending a movie festival, but hey, it's not like this stunning beaded number was free, or cheap, for that matter. But the guilt of Albert Le Blanc knows no monetary limits, as my father didn't say a word about my most recent spend when we talked yesterday. I guess he's joined that rich parents' trend of buying their children's happiness.

I take out the only thing that I brought with me from home, which reminds me of my mother. If I'm being honest, this is the only thing we have left, and I felt like I needed it with me. Nobody said anything about the ring mission, not my father certainly not Thomas. Looking at the intricate design that showcases the perfect pearl on top of the ring, I slide it onto my finger and I instantly feel serene. It feels so right, so blissful, and I'm ready to enjoy my evening, feeling like my mother was right there next to me, helping me get ready for the party,

Franco announcing that I'm his date for the fall formal has proven to be a good thing after all, because despite their serious jealousy, none of the girls even bothered looking my way, never mind plot the next prank that their loyal lackeys could execute. And by lackeys I mean the likes of Bentley and Rowley who seem to lack the acquired skill of using their own brain instead of following other people's orders.

Three short knocks on my door announce that they boys are here. I decide it's best to ignore the swarm of butterflied that suddenly catch life at the imminent prospect of seeing Franco all dressed up. As much as I tried not to, it has become my dirty little secret that I have developed a crush of the heartthrob. I would never admit it out loud, especially not to him, but yeah, I have failed in being above the female population in my school and have fallen for the bad boy's charms. I don't even understand how that's possible, when I knew from the start that he's the type to dip his taste buds in every possible flavour without ever committing to one. Despite all that, my reason has been overwritten by my teenage girl hormones.

I stuff my phone in the tiny clutch and practically glide to the door. I open it and wait for their reaction, which thankfully doesn't disappoint.

"Wow!" Alaric compliments me monosyllabically while giving me a thorough once over. "I'm glad I convince you to go with pearls instead of sequins. You, my dear look exquisite." He finishes his inspection with another nod of approval. Indeed, Alaric was the one who voted for this dress, insisting that it will look good on me. I guess he was right, but no matter how much he compliments me, I stull ache to hear something from Franco. And I'm shamefully admitting that I'm hoping it will mirror Alaric's words.

"You truly are breath taking, Lucy." Franco finally speaks, the words sounding like they got a little caught in his throat. I can't help but blush like the i***t that I am, but mostly because he called me me 'Lucy', and that felt intimate, somehow. Only my family uses this name, and I'm a little surprised and touched that he chose this nickname for me. Or, I may be reading way too much into things, and this is just Franco being the panty damper that he usually is around a girl that he likes. OK, fine, I hope he likes me. I'm not sure what that's going to get me, but is it really so bad to want something? 

"Thank you." I breathe out, dreaming about being that one girls who changes the notorious player and get's him to commit. Committing to what, I don't know yet.

"It looks like we're all set. Let's go then." Alaric breaks the awkward silence that started to loom over me and Franco, out eyes being caught in an intense staring contest.

I lock my door and drop the key in my purse, hoping that I didn't damage the screen on my phone, only to be surprised once more by Franco, who takes my hand. Alaric look at the unexpected gesture that his friend did and rolls his eyes dramatically before urging us to start moving.

All the way to the grand hall where the party is being held, I spend freaking out the fact that Franco and I are holding hands. He did it so casually and like it's not that big of a deal, when to me, is huge. And it seems like everyone else noticed the closeness because I can almost hear the whispers go above the music.

A photographer stops us at the entrance and all three of us pose for a picture. Alec is somehow impossibly close to me, and the picture snapped reflects just that.

"Who wants it?" The guy holding the camera asks, as the picture instantly comes out of a fancy photography printer.

Both guys looks at me, and I blush, failing to hide my awe at the fact that they would let me keep the picture. I take one look at it and grin like the Cheshire cat, before tucking it carefully in my purse, planning to hold it dear to my heart forever.

We lost Alaric at some point, he looked like he had a little too much of that contraband champagne, that a few students were passing around, when our chaperones were too busy scrolling through their social media pages on their phones. But the most surprising thing so far was to find out that Franco did not drink.

At first I thought it was a joke, or that maybe that he was trying to be a gentleman because he assumed I wouldn't drink either, but no. I had a few sips of champagne, or maybe more than a few, and Franco did not even touch it. In fact, he only drank water so far, and I should know, I've been glued to his side ever since we left my room. It feels natural, our closeness doesn't seem forced, and the more time alone I get to spend with Franco, the more I start to like him.

"Let's dance, you look like you need to work that champagne out of your system." Franco starts pulling me towards the dance floor.

"You're right, I should work it out before it makes me take bad decisions." I tease. It  might not be something that I should pride myself in, but I didn't have nearly enough alcohol to cause even a light buzz. The wild behaviour that helped get me shipped out to this school, has also increased my alcohol tolerance by a lot, and especially when it comes to champagne. If I seem like I'm a dazed mood right now is purely because I'm drunk on Franco, and he is pouring me glass after glass.

Sometime after the fourth slow dance, I give up trying to keep my body as far away from Franco's, and I relax. He takes advantage and practically pulls me into his arms, our bodies still swaying to the music. I look around and there are a lot of occasion couple doing the same times, everyone enjoying the moment so much that nobody seems to care that Franco and I are together. Not even Cinthia and the others girls that were pining over Franco. They look more than comfortable in another pair of arms.

In the dark corner I notice Gianni, Franco's bodyguard, getting really cosy with my Science teacher.

"What?"  Franco asks confused, most likely wondering what cased my sudden giggling fit. I nod towards the handsy couple, causing my date to groan. He stops our slow dance, but keeps my hand in his. Before I can understand what's happening, Franco has taken out outside, both of us laughing at the so called chaperones and the fact that they are worse than the horny teenagers they were supposed to be watching. 

I don't know what possessed me to guide Franco on a brisk walk that follows the same way back to my dorm, but he doesn't protest. He's also not saying anything as I fumble with my ridiculously small bag in order to get my keys, and proceeds to walk in as soon as the door is open.

When I close the door after him, and instinctively lock it, I start feeling him behind me and he hugs me and kisses my exposed shoulders. His lips feel hot as lava against my cold skin, and a light shiver caresses my whole body, I turn around slowly, gazing tentatively at his lips. Franco understands what I want and he leans in to kiss me. He's not the first boy I've kissed, but it definitely is the first that managed to ignite sparks in me.

We must have kissed for ages before I decided I have had enough of this and that I want more. Franco grins and fishes out a condom from his pocket, before slowly undoing my dress. That cheeky bastard was sure he had this in the bag, and I hate that he was right. But right now, I'm too hooked to be able to stop, and honestly, I don't want to. 

Having s*x for the first time wasn't as magical and Earth shattering as I heard from my friends, but it was very pleasurable. I might have omitted to let Franco know that I was a virgin, and when he realised that I was, he panicked a little and completely changes. He was so gentle, almost too gentle, but he did made me feel safe, and made my first time the best experience I could have gotten.

It proved a turning point for Franco, like he realised I was different than he imagined, his opinion over me changing completely, because It's past 2 am and we're still talking, all curled up in my bed. I'm getting a new Franco, a version that I feel he doesn't show many, as he speaks about his family's legacy and how he's planning to take over when he finishes his studies. I also learned that Alaric's father works for Franco's family, and that Franco sees him like the brother he never had. 

I was telling him about my own brother, Thomas, and how he is expecting to do the same thing and take over the family business, though I have a feeling Franco's family is much wealthier. 

"I really hope he doesn't grow up to be like our strict father." I murmur and the only reply is silence. I sit still and smile when I notice Franco's breaths evening out. I peek from his arms and see his eyes closed. He looks so peaceful, that I can't resist snuggling into him and allowing my eyelids to shut as well.

Two strong arms, resembling iron bars, cage me against a chest, keeping me tighter that would be comfortable. I can hear a heart thumping hard, and it feels like I'm being attacked. It takes me a second to shake the sleep off and see that I am still in Franco's arms, only that he doesn't look alright. 

I don't know when or how I managed to pry Franco's arms off me, turn him of his side, throw the pillows as far away from his face and grab a phone, all while counting. 1 minute and 45 seconds. I think. I struggle with keeping Franco on his side, his face unobstructed. His whole body is so tense that I'm afraid he's going to break., shatter.

I look at the device. I don't think it's my phone, but right now it doesn't matter, emergency services can be dialled from any phone, regardless of the fact that my fingerprint can't unlock it. I breathe relieved when it's confirmed that I was right. 2 minutes and 10 seconds before I get connected. This is not like in the Medical Dramas I enjoy watching, I can honestly say I've never been more scared in my life.

"Is the patient breathing?" A calm and calculated voice asks me.

"Yes, but I think he's having a seizure."