The Billionaire's Brat Wants Me

For a moment, it almost looked normal.

Two couples sharing a table at a Christmas party. Drinks, lights, soft music playing somewhere behind us. Nothing about it screamed "disaster waiting to happen." But then again, things never do, until they do.

Tasha was the last person I expected to see that night. Yet there she was, seating across from us, dressed to kill and smiling like she was auditioning for sainthood.

The guy—Devon, as I later learned—looked every inch the man who knew his worth. Confident posture, tailored suit, that quiet kind of ease people mistake for charm. The type who didn't just walk into a room, he assumed it would adjust around him.

Val crossed one leg over the other, the faintest hint of amusement in her eyes. I could already tell this wouldn't end quietly.

Tasha started it simple, but the kind of simple that's meant to make a point.

"This is Devon," she said, her hand resting deliberately on his arm like a name tag she wanted everyone to see. "He's the regional head of marketing over at Luminate Group."

It wasn't just an introduction. It was a statement, one she clearly expected to land.

Devon gave a polite nod. "Pleasure."

I nodded. "Kai."

"Celestia, Kai's wife." Val said easily, her tone warm, unaffected. "I've heard of Luminate. Good company." She tilted her head slightly towards Tasha, eyes glinting. "You must be very proud of him."

For a split second, I thought I saw Tasha flinch. Because somehow, Val had made the compliment sound like a pat on the head.

Devon chuckled lightly. "I try my best," he said, looking amused, while Tasha smiled too tightly to hide the strain.

Val hummed softly, the sound light and thoughtful as she brushed her fingers over my sleeve. Her gaze flicked briefly toward Tasha, just long enough to make the meaning clear, before she said, "Kai's the kind of man most girls would kill to have." A faint smile curved her lips as she turned back to Devon. "I just happened to be the one who does."

And just like that — first hit, clean and elegant.

Tasha blinked, her smile faltering just slightly. I almost pitied her.

Devon, oblivious, smiled. "You two married long?"

Val's smile widened. "Feels like forever," she said, eyes drifting to me for a second. "But we've actually been engaged for years. He likes taking his time."

Tasha stirred her drink a little too sharply.

I cleared my throat. "We both do," I said, quietly. "There's no rush when you're sure."

It was the kind of thing that would've ended the topic. If it were anyone else. But Tasha wasn't anyone else.

"So," she began, turning her glass slowly, "Celestia. That's quite a name. Unique. Kind of… old-fashioned."

Val didn't miss a beat. "Oh, thank you. I like traditional things. They tend to last longer."

Devon coughed into his drink. Derrick, a few tables away, was trying very hard not to look in our direction.

Tasha smiled again, thin and rehearsed. "Right. And what do you do, if you don't mind me asking?"

"I don't mind," Val replied smoothly. "I run a few things here and there. Mostly projects that make people's lives easier." She tilted her head slightly. "I'd tell you more, but you might call it bragging."

Tasha blinked. "Oh. Impressive." She sounded unimpressed.

"Not really," Val said lightly. "I'm just lucky to have the freedom to do what I love."

There was something about the way she said freedom that made my pulse tick. It wasn't random, she wasn't talking about work or hobbies. She was talking about me. About the fact that she could hold my hand, call me hers, kiss me if she wanted. Things Tasha could never do, no matter how much she might've wanted to.

Tasha caught it too. Her jaw tightened, just slightly, like she'd felt the hit but refused to show it.

"So," Tasha said after a pause, "you two met in college, right? That's what Derrick mentioned once."

Val smiled. "Mm. First semester. I annoyed him for like a week before he finally gave in."

I turned to her. "Annoyed me? You practically hunted me down."

She grinned, unapologetic. "Exactly. Persistence pays off."

That earned a few chuckles from nearby tables, but Tasha didn't laugh. She was too busy trying to mask the irritation curling in her expression. Devon looked caught between laughing and pretending he didn't exist.

Val leaned back slightly, her tone light, almost teasing. "It's funny, isn't it? Some people chase things that were never meant to be theirs. They could spend years trying, and it still wouldn't fit."

Tasha froze mid-sip.

Devon blinked, glancing between the two women with the faintest frown. "Uh… are we still introducing ourselves, or did I miss something?"

Val didn't even look at him. She smiled then murmured, "Something like that," her gaze still fixed on Tasha.

Tasha set her glass down a little harder than necessary. "You're really something, aren't you?"

Val smiled sweetly. "Thank you."

The air between them shifted, subtle but sharp. You could almost hear the glass stretch from the tension. I stayed quiet, not because I didn't want to step in, but because I knew exactly what she was doing. If anyone could finally get Tasha off my back, it was Val. And she'd do it far better than I ever could.

Then Tasha exhaled slowly, the pretense fading. "You know, this whole act would be adorable if it weren't so delusional," she said, voice barely above a whisper but loud enough for the table to hear. "He's not even your husband."

The table went quiet. Conversations from nearby faded, curiosity replacing sound. People turned their heads. It was one of those moments that felt like it lasted forever — awkward, brittle, waiting for someone to shatter it.

Val didn't flinch. She didn't even blink. She just smiled.

"Oh right," she said softly, almost kindly. "I forgot you looked at my husband's file."

It landed like a bullet wrapped in silk.

A few nearby heads turned again, people pretending not to listen but failing miserably. Even Devon stiffened, his eyes darting between them. "Wait, what file?"

Tasha's lips parted, but nothing came out. Val tilted her head, feigning innocence. "You didn't think he'd tell me? That was bold, Ms. Team Leader."

Tasha's face flushed, anger simmering beneath her composure. "Seems like you're forgetting I can make things difficult for him," she said, her tone cutting sharper than she meant.

The tables nearby went quiet; a few people had clearly heard it, and understood what it meant. Even Devon's expression shifted, like he'd finally caught on to what was really happening between the two of them.

And that's when Val finally got angry.

Her smile faded a little, replaced by something colder. And she did something I've only seen her do like twice in the four years I've known her, she used her name.

"Funny," she said quietly, "I could also say the same, Ms. Team Leader."

"Have you heard of Moreau Dynamics?" she asked. She let the name hang a beat, then added, quieter: "Celestia Valentina Moreau."

She didn't shout. She didn't need to. "We don't take kindly to people who threaten what's ours," she finished, calm as a closed door.

The nearest tables went quiet. Even Devon froze. Recognition flickered through a few faces nearby. I could feel it ripple across the room like a slow, spreading wave.

Tasha's lips parted, but she said nothing. Devon sat back, clearly wishing he could disappear.

Val smiled again, small but decisive. "Now," she said softly, "I believe we were talking about something else before you lost your composure, weren't we?"

Somehow, she made lost your composure sound like lost your dignity.

Tasha stared at her for a long, trembling moment. Then she stood abruptly. "Devon, let's go."

Devon hesitated, just a fraction but then followed. They walked away, quiet enough that the sound of her heels on the floor felt like applause. Slow, painful, undeniable applause.

Across the room, Derrick was watching from his table, eyebrows raised, phone in hand like he was debating if this counted as something he should record for proof later. When our eyes met, he mouthed what the hell just happened? I shook my head.

Val turned to me, her composure softening the second our eyes met. The steel in her gaze melted into something uncertain.

"I'm sorry," she said quietly, the edge in her voice gone. "I didn't mean to make a scene."

For a second, I almost laughed, not because it was funny, but because she genuinely thought she had.

"Val…" I started, but stopped there. There wasn't really anything to fix. Not from where I was sitting.

She looked down, her thumb tracing the rim of her glass. "I just—" she exhaled, "I don't like people talking to you like that."

Then her voice rose again, sharp with irritation. "She really doesn't know her place. Some people don't understand boundaries unless you spell it out for them."

Her words lingered, clipped and low, before her tone softened again. "Sorry," she said quietly. "I... I shouldn't have done that here."

I smiled a little, leaning back. "It's fine. Honestly, she kind of deserved that one."

She hesitated, her eyes searching mine. "So you're not… mad?"

"Nope."

She tilted her head slightly, a small, curious smile tugging at her lips. "Not even a little?"

I chuckled, shaking my head. "Not even a little."

Val's eyes lit up again, that bright, radiant spark snapping right back into place. "Good," she said simply, then beamed, the tension melting from her face. "So... where were we?"

And just like that, she started talking about the decor again, the lights, the table setup, something about how the centerpiece didn't match the drapes.

I laughed under my breath, shaking my head. That was my Val — overprotective one minute, calm the next; fierce as a storm, then soft as sunlight. Somehow, she was all of it, and I wouldn't have her any other way.

That's where the night started to feel normal again — or at least, our version of it.

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To be continued...