Billionaires Desire

under the orphaned mask

The night had already settled into a soft hum by the time Atticus and Desiree arrived at the anniversary party. The grand estate was filled with well-dressed guests, all of them mingling beneath the dim glow of crystal chandeliers. Desiree felt their eyes on her the moment they stepped inside—curious, questioning, and more than a little judgmental. She lowered her gaze, careful not to let it show how much she hated these kinds of gatherings.

Atticus, as always, seemed completely unfazed. He strode through the crowd with his usual air of quiet authority, barely acknowledging the stares and whispers. Desiree followed a step behind, her black dress clinging to her frame, both alluring and demure—a perfect match for his tailored suit.

They were late, though Atticus didn’t seem to care. He grabbed a glass of champagne from a passing server and tapped it gently with his finger, the soft chime catching the attention of those nearby. Slowly, the murmur of voices died down as the crowd turned toward him.

“I know I’m late for the gift-giving,” Atticus began, his voice calm but commanding, cutting through the silence like a knife. “The most valuable gift i can offer or maybe the cheapest.” he's silent pun made everyone curious.

His gaze shifted toward Desiree. The slightest flicker of hesitation passed through her, but she quickly masked it, lowering her head before stepping forward. She walked toward the grand piano positioned in the corner of the room, its polished surface gleaming under the lights. Desiree had been dreading this moment, not because of the performance itself, but because of the attention it would bring.

The whispers started the moment she sat at the piano.

“Who is she?”

“Is she famous?”

“I didn’t know Atticus knew any musicians.”

Her fingers hovered over the keys for a brief moment, and then she began to play. The soft, haunting melody of “Solas” filled the room, each note dripping with emotion. It was a piece meant to evoke quiet reflection, its gentle rhythms lulling the listeners into a trance.

The room grew silent as the music washed over them. Desiree kept her gaze fixed on the keys, her fingers moving with precision and grace. She could feel the weight of their stares, but she remained focused. This was her role tonight—a carefully selected gift, just like the piano, an ornament in Atticus’s world.

As the final notes faded into the air, a gentle wave of applause spread through the room. The clapping was polite, restrained, as though the guests weren’t quite sure how to react. But Atticus’s parents approached her, both of them wearing warm smiles.

“Solas, You played it beautifully,” Atticus’s mother said, her tone full of approval. “It’s been years since I’ve heard someone play that piece with such emotion.”

“I'm honored really.” Desiree formed a gentle smile.

“you should be,” his father added, “quite the performance. But I’m curious—what exactly is your relationship with Atticus? Miss?”

Desiree opened her mouth to answer, but Atticus was faster. “Father...” he said simply, not allowing Desiree the chance to explain further. His tone left no room for questions, and his parents exchanged a knowing glance before letting the subject drop.

Desiree looked at him the his parents to softly scoff out a smile “Desiree Aki. Happy anniversary.” she said her words washing away the tension for his parents nooded smiling genuinely.

---

The night wore on, the soft murmur of conversations and clinking glasses filling the air as the party moved into full swing. Desiree stood outside now, holding her own glass of champagne as she stared up at the night sky. The cool breeze brushed against her skin, a welcome relief from the crowded warmth inside.