"Do you think I look alright?" I twirl around in the dress Zander sent for me whilst Daphne and Stacy study their work. 

Zander came over and with his help I was able to finish most of my paper by early evening. We then chased him away and the girls excitedly took charge of getting me ready for tonight's charity gala. 

Tonight's dinner will be held at the Starhill Gallery overlooking the beautiful Belmont topiary gardens. I've never been to this side of the city before, only heard of the numerous events occasionally held there where only the rich and influential can be seen. 

Which is why the girls have spared no expense on my hair, make up and jewellery. Daphne lent me her diamond set, two studs and a delicate necklace with a small pendant. Stacy took charge of my hair, styling it into a half do with matching diamond pins to hold some of my thick dark hair back. 

The studded pins aren't real diamonds but they look so authentic, it makes the entire ensemble work. 

The dress is another thing all together, all chiffon and soft trimmings accentuating my every curve. The deep blue colour makes me think of midnight, the diamonds on my head like stars. 

"You look perfect," Stacy places a hand on her hip, clearly satisfied with her work. 

"Agreed," Daphne says before dabbing a little blush on my nose. "Forgot to add some there." 

"You girls are the best," I gush and then lean in for a hug.

They quickly back away like I'm about to bite them. "No, no hugging. Don't ruin what we so carefully curated." 

I roll my eyes but smile at them nonetheless. I couldn't have done today without them. The phone rings and it's Zander, telling me that he's outside. My stomach feels like it's being twisted into knots as I reluctantly tell the girls goodbye, promising to fill them in after tonight immediately. 

I put on my heels and head to the lifts, wondering why I'm getting more and more nervous by the second. When the lift door opens to the ground floor, I catch Zander waiting by the foyer, dressed in a black suit, his tie the same dark blue as my gown. 

He looks up when I step out and pauses, it reminds me of those movies I used to watch where the girl dresses up for the first time and walks down the stairs. His expression is exactly the same as those guys, jaw going slack in surprise, eyes wide like he doesn't quite know what he is looking at. 

"Is it enough?" I ask when I reach him, doing a half twirl to show him the dress and my hair. 

He seems to be at a loss for words, studying me from head to toe silently. 

"What?" I ask again, alarm slowly settling in. Is it too simple? Do the women at these events wear more jewellery, more extravagance? Even my clutch is small and unbranded. I hold it tightly to my side. If he tells me this isn't enough, I'm turning around and heading back to the room to undress. 

After what feels like forever, he finally clears his throat and holds a hand out to me. "We should go." 

I take his hand hesitantly and let him lead me outside to the dorm entrance. Instead of the blue McLaren, there's a limousine parked outside today. Thankfully, it's a Sunday and most students aren't hovering around at this hour so not many students catch us getting into it. 

The seats are long and spread out over the span of the vehicle. I notice a built in bar on the other side of us, housing an array of liquors ranging from whiskey to wines. 

Zander is fidgety and quiet, which is so unlike him. He fusses over the casing that houses the liquor and finally unlocks it. 

"Would you like something to take the edge off?" He begins pouring himself a glass of Hennessy on the rocks and I tell him I'd like a glass of Rose. 

Once he's done, I take a long sip and stretch my legs out before me with the ample space we have. Zander's seated next to me but he's so focused on the view outside, he hasn't uttered a word since he handed me my drink. 

Which is the opposite of how he was today when we were working on my paper. He couldn't keep his mouth shut then. 

"What is wrong with you?" I finally ask him because the awkward silence has stretched on for too long. We're now on the highway already, heading to Starhill Gallery which would take about an hour. 

He turns to me and then looks away just as quickly. "Nothing, why?" He begins to tap his foot on the floor, taking another swig of his drink. 

"Umm, for one, you've hardly said a word to me which is rare especially for you." He laughs when I say this but still refuses to make eye contact. 

"Are you nervous about meeting your father? About me meeting him?" I press further. We go over a bump and the liquid in my glass almost spills over. I take a tentative sip, hoping to finish it before we reach. This is the best wine I've had in my entire life. I make a mental note to take a picture of the label before we leave. 

"Nervous about meeting my father?" Zander scoffs. "Please. I've run circles around that man since I was a kid." 

"Then why are you acting like we're about to march into battle and we're on the losing side." I say, earning a half grin from him. 

"Do I look that off base?" He wonders. 

"You can't even look me in the eye. How are you supposed to introduce me to your father when you're acting like a nervous wreck. And you're tapping so hard, the floors about to give way." I tell him sarcastically and hit his thigh lightly, the wine making my movements easier, more fluid. 

He stops moving his foot immediately and finally turns to look at me. "You make me nervous, Danielle." 

What? I want to ask him what he means but he's staring at my lips and then my eyes. Suddenly, the limousine feels too small for just the two of us. 

"You're so fucking beautiful." He says it so honestly and I wonder if he's about to lean in and kiss me. I swallow hard and the car jerks, throwing me forward. Zander's arm wraps around my shoulder, steadying me before I fall face down onto the floor. 

I look out to see us turning down a lone road, a thick coating of trees looming over us on either side. It feels like we're heading into another dimension and then finally we come across a sprawling glass house. A crowd has already formed inside and there are many more getting out of their luxurious cars on the driveway.

The gallery is beautiful, all glass and gold accents, lighted up by soft yellow lamps. Flowers and creepers crawl up the sides of the building, forming a web of greenery that spans the entire wall. 

We stop just by the entrance and I suddenly feel so nervous, like I shouldn't even be here. Zander must sense my uncertainty, because he places a firm hand over mine and squeezes. 

"Don't worry I'll be with you the entire time. We'll be in and out, you say hi to my dad, exchange a few words and we're gone. Got it?" 

I bite my lip and imagine Daphne berating me for ruining my lipstick. I quickly nod just as the driver opens our door and the evening fresh air pours inside. 

Zander helps me out and we head to the entrance, giving our names to the person manning the guest list before being allowed to enter. Everyone around us is dressed to the nines, decked head to toe in designer labels with make up and hair done to perfection. There's a few paparazzi stationed by the entrance, they shout out Zander's name and I look away when they beg for a picture. 

It's beginning to become a little overwhelming as I feel the flashes of their cameras taking our pictures. Thankfully, someone else draws their attention away quickly. 

My eyes widen when I recognise an A-list celebrity and her partner getting out from their G-Wagen. Isn't she the one who won an Oscar last year? 

Once our names have been cleared, Zander gently guides me inside by placing a hand on the small of my back. 

The glass house didn't look so large from the outside but it appears unrealistically sprawling once we step into it. Small rounded tables have been set up all over the space, with guests standing around them conversing and drinking champagne. Waiters and waitresses carrying trays of hors d'oeuvres weave through the crowd, offering shellfish cocktails, caviar laden potato mash and empanadas. 

I take a piece when a girl stops before us, just for courtesies sake even though my appetite is literally non existent right now. 

Zander hands me a champagne flute and then we head towards the tables by the podium. "Tonight's charity dinner is in aid of the special needs wards at all John Hopkins hospitals. We're hoping to garner enough funds to be able to build completely new wings in every hospital across the country." 

I nod and swallow down the empanada, because my palm is growing sticky. It scratches my dry throat and tears spring to my eyes. 

 It's a good thing he's telling me this because I never paused to wonder what tonight's gala was all about.

"Through donations?" I ask him in a choked voice and he nods. 

"Donations through an auction. A few elite families have gathered some of their most prized artefacts to be sold tonight."

I wonder if the Wyatt's belong to one of those 'elite' families. As if on cue, Zander spots his father by the table just before the podium. The man is around the same height as his son, with the same build, dark hair and facial features but the similarities end there. 

There's a hardness in his face that Zander doesn't have and while his son is handsome and charming, the older Wyatt looks stiff and un welcoming, like he has a signboard on his head telling me to stay away. 

Or maybe that's just how I feel because of the way he's looking at me. 

He's talking to another man around his age and his face switches so completely when he greets his son. He grins, all warmth and sunshine but it's so fake, I can't be the only one who sees through it. 

He then fixes the same practiced smile on me and I greet him cordially, trying not to stare at the way his forehead is so botoxed and unmoving when he grins. 

"Senator Wyatt, this is Danielle Nio, an Economics Major at Daltech. On scholarship." Zander adds quickly and it feels like he's selling the idea of me to his father. So much for not being nervous around the old man. 

"And Econ major, huh?" He looks like he's trying to raise his eyebrows but I can't really tell with all those placid muscles. "And on scholarship? You must be Asian." 

That sounds rather backhanded but I nod anyway, not wanting to be rude. 

"Are you mixed? If you don't mind me asking," He adds when I don't elaborate further. 

"Mother's Indonesian. Father Dutch-American," I answer, noticing the crowd thickening around us. 

His lips purse and the fine lines around his mouth multiply. "Interesting. Welcome to our Twenty Fifth annual charity gala, my dear. I hope you enjoy tonight." He lifts his drink and waits for me to do the same. 

"Thank you for the invite." I bring my glass to his and there's a soft clink when our flutes touch. Senator Wyatt never loses eye contact, in fact if looks could kill I'm certain I would be buried beneath this building at this very moment. 

Just then someone greets Zander and his father shoos him away, leaving me to his mercy. 

"Let's take a walk," The Senator says to me, holding out his elbow and I all but clam up, not wanting to touch him. "I want to show you our pieces for the auction tonight." 

There are people around us watching and I know I have no choice but to link my arm through his and let him lead the way. 

"At least then we can speak more privately." He says, softer this time. We head to the back of the building and I wonder if I'm about to make a mistake.